Fine Line // H.S.

96

*･ﾟﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*ﾟ:*:✼✿✿✼:*ﾟ:.｡..｡.:*･ﾟﾟ･*

I'm wide awake, and I have been for hours.

Sleep simply can't find me tonight.

I can feel Harry's arms around me in our bed, his tired body dwarfing mine, strong arms gripping me tightly as if he knows that anything less will result in the stresses I know he is drowning in finally becoming too much. And as a result, his anxieties over music videos, new singles, film roles, and third albums are unbeknown to him, trickling slowly into me.

It's not like I don't have worries of my own already plaguing my mind, because I do, one of those being the constant question of if I'll be a good mother. Will our daughter be healthy? Will she be happy that we are her parents? Where will we raise her? How will we raise her?

Harry feels all of this too on top of everything piling up on him with work. He's wondering if committing to a third album so soon after the second one is worth it when he has a baby on the way. He's wondering if furthering his acting career is something even remotely important to him at the moment. He's wondering if the constant travel and time away from me and the baby will put a strain on his relationship with his daughter.

At least he knows that none of that will hinder his relationship with me, although the most obvious demon that I can physically feel plaguing Harry as I lay here in his arms is that he's absolutely terrified of becoming the one thing that he knows I despise. Harry is horror-stricken at the idea that his career could pull him away from his life with his daughter, resulting in her looking at him in the way I look at my father.

With each day that passes bringing the world into a new month of September, promises of pumpkin spice, cool breezes, and scary stories on their way, Harry grows more and more weary of the day that is creeping up faster than either of us expected.

My due date.

I can't lie, I'm just as terrified as Harry is, but there is a strong excitement there too.

How could I not be over the moon to meet my daughter? She's only been a massive part of me for the past nine months, growing along with me as I grow too- not just physically but as a person as well. Little Granger has been a big part of all of that. I'm transforming into the strongest version of myself for her.

   I'm constantly wondering what traits she will get from Harry and I, not just physically but characteristically. Being stubborn is a given, but will her humor be full of sarcasm and blatancy like mine or dry like her father's? How will she deal with her emotions? Will she brush them aside or face them head on? Will she feel more acclimated to music or writing? Maybe both, or maybe neither?

   All of these thoughts and more plague my brain as I begrudgingly pull myself from Harry's arms, his little groans of defiance bringing a grin to my face. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, a few labored breaths pass through my lips at how tired the typically simple action makes me.

   My hand falls to my stomach as I push myself from the bed, a cold breeze instantly taking over my body and sending chills over the skin when the covers fall away from my legs. A small creak sounds from the mattress springs as I stand, and when I turn back, I notice how Harry's unconscious body flops over to cover the warm space I just left behind, his cheek smooshing against the white sheets with small pink flowers in the cotton.

   I soon find myself trudging slowly but surely down the stairs of my Los Angeles cottage, a sudden craving for ice cream hitting me immensely. Keeping a stern hand on the railing as I descend the wooden steps, I feel a sharp pain that jolts me suddenly, the ache starting at the top of my spine before traveling down the length of the vertebrae and encompassing the entirety of my back.