Yellow.

three.

"Daddy, are you awake?"

A small voice softly speaks and tugs on the floral material belonging to the apron tied around Anne's waist, and there is no response. The door is slowly pushed open and Anne pokes her head into the room with a warm smile plastered on her freshly cleansed face. It is a neatly arranged room, still holding onto memories from his childhood and recent life history, smells warm and much like him. Everything is arranged in place and it looks like he did another form of rearranging again, because Anne probably touched some of his stuff while he was at his own place.

"Morning handsome man, someone wants to see you," she says planting her loving eyes on him and gets a gentle nod in response.

"Okay Myra, go and spend time with daddy before Papa takes you to school," Anne opens the door a bit wider and gestures the little girl into the room.

Myra Anne Styles. Born Four years ago, exactly three months after Harry turned twenty years old and she is till date, the biggest surprise he has ever received at the door steps of his mother's house, in the early hours of a foggy morning. Linda Fanning, Harry's first love and ex-girlfriend, never informed him about her pregnancy nor did she prompt him on receiving full responsibility of the grey eyed child. It was too shocking and slightly unbelievable, but after three repetitive DNA tests and more, it was certain that Harry fathered Myra. Linda never showed up, called or made contact with her child or boyfriend. All that was left of her was a roughly written note tucked by the side of Myra in the hand woven basket she was left in, and the note had nothing but harsh words for Harry. Words that still make him question where he went wrong in trying to be the perfect man for Linda.

"Daddy!" Myra bounces in excitement and skips to stand in front of her father.

Tanned skin, looking like it has been tenderly kissed by the golden sun and dusted with light freckles. Large grey eyes filled with enthusiasm and happiness, innocent happiness. Strawberry blonde hair neatly did in a french plait with two tiny handmade flowers tucked at the sides. Slightly identical nose with her father but extremely identical smiles, that captivate an entire room like torch set on old wood. Small frame adorning a knee length navy blue skirt, crisp and finely ironed short sleeved shirt tucked into the skirt, darker shade of blue jumper worn above the shirt, allowing the white collar show itself. The school badge is embroidered in gold and soft wine like colours, around the chest.

"M-Mmm.." a weak groan is gotten from Harry, who is sitting at the edge of his bed already dressed up for his own mid day lectures.

"Are you tired?" Myra asks with her childish lisp now fading away.

"M'mmm Kay, Mmumma," he immediately directs his slurred response to Anne and slowly starts rubbing his palm against his jean covered knee.

"He is okay love, just trying to gather his energy for the day," Anne speaks up with a weak smile and Myra quickly nods, she is gradually understanding how different her daddy is.

Harry looks at his daughter with a small smile and gently touches her jumper, the softness of the material feels great against his skin. He coos to himself and clears his throat, realising he is starting to get carried away.

"M-Myraaaaaaa," he draws her name and stretches his hands at her for a hug.

"Ahh Daddy!" She squeals in excitement and rushes at him.

Gestures like this from him are rare and Myra always ensures she enjoys every bit of it before Harry gets sensitive all over again.

"Sleep....sleep well?" Harry asks slowly pulling away from the hug and dropping his eyes down.

"Yes Daddy, and I am ready for school, Papa Robin is taking me!" Myra's childish voice echoes in the room and she gently chooses her wording well.