PETAL | HARRY STYLES

FIFTY-FIVE.

Harry sits in front of the piano in his house. A house that suddenly feels cold and dark and empty. So absence of light. Of warmth.

Of Fleur.

It's 3am. His fingers have been dancing along the keys emotionlessly as he stares off into nothing.

Only a week. It's only been a fucking week and it feels as though it's day one.

Rosie is sound asleep upstairs in the crib beside their bed. No, his bed. It's just his bed now. Though, he still leaves her side empty in hopes that one morning he'll wake up to her face.

Rosie's been adjusting well. Just sleeping and drinking formula and pooping. Only a week old and she adores her father. Always tugging at his pearl necklace which he instantly puts a stop to.

Sure, she can chew on his rings or rip his necklaces from his neck. But she's not allowed anywhere near the pearl necklace. It's not just something he can replace.

She's not someone he can replace.

His life has been a whole whirlwind. There's so much piling on that he's feeling himself crack under the pressure. But he knows if he doesn't keep busy, he'll eventually crack.

Fleur's family is still in London. They want to take part in planning of the funeral. Mainly so Harry doesn't have to go through it alone.

Anne and Gemma temporarily moved in. Though, Gemma is less around than Anne, of course. She leaves the house to see Michal so he doesn't come over and bother Harry and Rosie. Not that Harry would even notice.

The news of Fleur's death had spread like wildfire before Harry could do anything about it. Within two days, everyone was talking about how "Harry Styles' radiating girlfriend had passed". They knew about Rosie as well. But it didn't get any farther than just the fact that Harry Styles is in fact, a new father.

Fans are devastated. They really did love Fleur. Not just for Harry, but just in general. Everyone is in shambles. But they don't feel the way he does. They never saw her the way he did.

Never loved her the way he did.

Does.

Always will.

The album is hanging in the air. Harry hadn't spoken to Jeff in a week. Not after he called to send his condolences and that was that. Harry didn't want to talk music. He didn't want to talk about anything.

Frankly, all Harry knows is that before the year is over, he'll just have Jeff drop it so he doesn't disappoint everyone.

Maybe not. Maybe no one should hear it. Not the music he shared with Fleur. The songs that meant so much to him.

It also didn't feel right to release a breakup album with songs about his ex when his fiancée is gone. Fleur never minded, though. She was the one who encouraged him to write about Camille.

Speaking of, Camille called. Sent him her condolences and claimed he was on her mind. Told him Fleur was brilliant and stunning and she knew Harry was whipped from the start.

Harry appreciated it. Wished her well and they went on their ways.

He never went through her bedside drawer. It's not that he didn't want to, he just knew he wasn't ready. He knew it wasn't going anywhere so he'd go in there when the time felt right. But recently it's been calling to him. As though Fleur herself is begging him to open it.

Lord knows he'd do anything for her.

With a heavy sigh, his finger falls down on another key but he's abruptly stopped by the noises coming from the baby monitor he has propped up. Sounds like she's waking up.