𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋! | harry styles

𝐕𝐈𝐈

HE doesn't say a word as he leads me downstairs, flicking switches that bathe the basement with light.

Right before my eyes, Harry morphs into the professional empowerment coach. It's as if the world upstairs is just a place he visits from time to time, but this is where he belongs.

He brings me into the "anteroom" first and offers me a seat at a round table with a single photo album resting on it.

"This is where I meet with my client before the shoot. We look through the album together, talk about what's going to happen, her goals for the shoot... anything else she wants to share with me."

"May I?" I point to the album, and he slides it toward me.

"Of course."

He stands next to me and flips the book open to the first page. "This woman came to see me five years after giving birth to twins." The photo is gritty and real, not what you'd find in a magazine. She is standing in front of a white backdrop, fully clothed, shrouded in half-light, eyes focused off to the side. "Here's our 'before' picture. She clearly does not want to be seen," he explains.

He turns the page, and I can hardly believe my eyes. "Same woman, three hours later." The difference is literally night and day. The woman is completely undressed and positively radiant, her gaze directed straight into the camera as if it's a best friend she's just told her most intimate secret. She is tastefully posed on a wooden stool to hide her private parts, but every ripple, stretch mark, and roll is on display for the eye of the camera.

"How did you do that?"

"'Closer' by Nine Inch Nails." The memory makes him smile. "Really, really loud."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. I still remember how I felt when she smiled for me." His voice holds a tenderness that turns me to mush. He points to the next photo, a woman practically curled into a ball on the floor, clutching her knees to her chest. "This one... a victim of domestic abuse."

"Oh my god."

He flips the page slowly, and a lump forms in my throat. Same woman, relaxing on her side, naked under a strategically twisted white sheet, chin propped up in her hand. "And... after," he says softly.

"She looks almost flirty there."

"She was incredibly brave."

I reach for his hand and draw it around my shoulders. He stays quiet while I flip through the rest of the album. Every body size and shape is represented. Not every "after" picture is fully bare, but each woman's personality jumps off the page after her session with Harry.

A lump forms in my throat. I am so very grateful to have met this man.

"These photos must go for a fortune."

"They're not for sale. The client pays for the session; everything is theirs to keep. All the photos in this portfolio-along with the few you'll see hanging on the walls-I've been given permission by the models to display here. They help inspire other women who have a hard time getting started."

I stand up and wrap my arms around him. "You are amazing; you know that?"

He shrugs. "This is my super power."

I smile, recalling our conversations about Umbrella Man. "Show me the rest?"

"Said Dorothy to the Wizard."

He leads me into the next room, and I have to laugh when I see the open umbrellas lining one wall. "I guess you had a few to spare."

"I gave you my favorite one."