The ending of Sarah and Harry's story, will they or won't they?
It has been five years since Harry and Sarah have seen each other. Sarah is now 29 and she is happily living in New York and pursuing her career. Harry is now 30 and he is living in Ho...
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The lights are bright above my head, my eyes squinting at the light. My first thought is that I fell asleep in the waiting room, that everyone else is around me. But then I remember the harsh reality, the fact that I'm actually in a bed instead of a chair. The beeping of the machines beside me bring me back to last night, to all of the pain of last night.
I look to my side, my eyes falling on a sleeping Harry slouched in a hospital chair. His snores are quiet as his head hangs low, his mind shut out from the world. I focus my eyes back onto the ceiling, the bright lights breaking through my eyes. Why would they ever put such bright lights over a hospital bed?
"Harry." I hoarsely call out, hoping my soft, tired voice will be loud enough for him to hear. I reach across the bed when he doesn't wake up, my fingertips pushing into him. His head immediately snaps up, his exhausted eyes looking into mine.
"Are you okay? Do you need something?" Harry asks urgently, doing his best to make sure that I'm okay and comfortable. I point up at the light, unsure if my voice is strong enough to utter another word. I need water, something that'll help me communicate with Harry.
Harry finds the light switch, instantly turning it off. My eyes are able to fully open now, the light not blinding them any longer. Harry grabs a hold of my hand, the one that isn't hooked up to a machine, and he kisses it softly. He's acting as if last night's conversation didn't happen, as if I didn't catch him in a lie.
"Can I have some of your water?" I ask, my eyes looking at the table and seeing a bottle of water. Harry must've gotten it while I was unconscious, while I had no idea what they were doing to my body or what was happening to it. I still feel uncomfortable, but the pain from earlier is long gone.
Harry gets the water at lightning speed, his hand tilting my head up as I take small sips of water. It's cool and refreshing as it travels down my throat, my mouth not feeling like a scorching desert anymore.
Once I'm done drinking, I settle back into place, my head resting on the soft pillow. Harry sits at the edge of my bed, his hand on my knee. I know he's trying to keep me comfortable, trying to let me know that he's here, but last night left me feeling completely different. Last night he was pushing me away all over again, but I don't think he realizes that we're more perfect for each other now than we ever were before. I don't think he wants to say goodbye to us either.
Right at this moment, a doctor walks in, clipboard in hand. I have no idea who this woman is, but the first thing she does when she walks in is smile right at me. I'm ready for her to tell me what happened, for her to try and soften the blow that my baby is gone. I haven't looked down at my stomach in fear, in fear that I'd be flat and back to normal all too soon.
"How're you feeling Sarah?" The doctor asks, her fingers tinkering away with the machines. She records all of my vitals on the computer, her hands typing away feverishly. I look up at Harry, wondering if he'll tell me what happened.
