now comes us (pt. 5)
summary: you both try to navigate the bad news, but harry only pushes you away.
pairing: harry castillo x fem!reader content warning(s): arguing, insecurities, male infertility, harry is going through it y'all bc it's now affecting his relationship with the kids, shouting, no use of y/n. word count: 4k a/n: Y'ALL my heart hurts ❤️🩹 our little family is going through it right now but i promise... there's light at the end of the tunnel. stay tuned <3 part 4. - part 6. || series masterlist. || read on ao3.
Harry didn’t want to talk about it. He brushed it under the rug, didn’t even bring it up or ask you how you were feeling about it all. Instead, he dove head first into work. The last few months of him setting his boundaries disappeared. He’d wake up earlier than the kids to start work and stay later than normal. If he didn’t talk about it or think about it, then maybe it wasn’t true. It didn’t force him to look at parts of himself that he no longer wanted to look at.
He couldn’t even look at you without feeling guilt in the pit of his stomach. You would look at him with furrowed brows and concerned eyes, but he knew… Harry knew that you blamed him. He blamed himself too.
The idea of having a big family was no longer something that was possible because of him.
Because something was wrong with him.
You didn’t even have time to process the news because Harry had just wanted to forget about it. You thought maybe he needed more time, maybe he just needed to sit with it first, but instead, he worked more. He’d wake earlier than you and the kids and he’d stay later at work, causing you to pick up the kids from school by yourself.
And it hurt because you both always promised to talk to each other, but this—this was different. You wanted to be angry with him, but how could you? He had spent months trying to reassure you, trying to tell you that you’d handle whatever it was together that he didn’t consider that maybe he could have been the reason why you weren’t pregnant yet.
He couldn’t even look at you either, wouldn’t touch you too. It was always just a quick peck on the cheek and that was it. You didn’t look at him differently, but you wondered if maybe he thought you did.
But you didn’t know.
Because he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I don’t think we can do our daily walks,” Harry said one morning, cup of coffee in hand. “I’m sorry, baby.”
You looked at him and watched how his eyes flickered to you briefly before turning away.
“It’s just been… busy,” he reasoned.
“You’re lying,” you whispered.
Harry sighed.
You continued.
“You’re pushing me away.”
“I’m not.”
“You are,” you replied. “You promised work wouldn’t—”
“I am the CEO of the company. It is my responsibility to make sure the company is running smoothly,” he interrupted. Harry never raised his voice at you, but since finding out what that his low sperm count was the reason why you couldn’t get pregnant, he had been more irritable than usual. And he was taking it out on you.
“You keep saying that,” you mumbled. “But you aren’t the only one. Peter is also the CEO.”
“And he’s got Charlotte to think about.”
“So we don’t matter?”
Harry finally lifted his gaze to you. “What? That’s not what I meant.”
“No, that’s exactly what you meant,” you answered. “You can think about Peter and his family, but you can’t think of your own?”
His jaw clenched. “That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is you throwing yourself into work when we should talk about what we found out,” you whispered. “Ever since—”
“Stop,” Harry interrupted.
“We have to talk about it… Harry, please.”
Harry huffed quietly. He heard a few doors open followed by the soft footsteps from the hallway. “I’ll take the kids to school this morning,” he said, changing the subject. He pleaded with you silently, eyes staring into your own and asking you to just drop it without saying the words.
You didn’t reply. You just turned on your heel to leave him in the kitchen while the kids came running towards the dining table. No pancakes this morning; they’d have to settle for cereal, which you knew they didn’t mind.
As you disappeared down the hallway, you felt your breath catch in your throat. You had arguments and disagreements with Harry before—not every moment of your relationship with him for the last five years was perfect—but you both always talked about it, always made sure to check in with each other and hear each other out.
But this didn’t feel like that.
Harry didn’t want to talk about it.
Talking about it would make it real—it would force him to sit with aspects of himself that made him feel like a failure.
Because he couldn’t fix this.
After about half an hour, the kids finished eating and went to get ready for school. Harry had gone into his office, staring at the laptop as his mind drifted. He hated the look on your face, how sad you looked because of him. He heard the door open and glanced up, sighing when he saw you step inside.
“Listen, I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want your sorry,” you interrupted. “It means nothing to me if you’re going to keep acting like this.”
Harry sighed.
“I’m scheduling a doctor’s appointment.”
“What?”
“You told me that we’d do this together if there had been something wrong with me,” you answered. “Why does that change when it involves you?”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”
“It is. It is that simple.”
“It’s not!” He shouted, standing abruptly from his chair. Harry watched your eyes widen slightly and he sighed, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “Don’t you get it? I’m the reason we can’t get pregnant. Something is wrong with me.”
“Nothing is wrong with y—”
“Just stop,” Harry interjected. “I see the way you look at me now. I see the—the disappointment on your face. I can’t give you what you want.”
“Harry,” you took a step forward but you noticed him straightening up as he looked away from you.
“I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t—I don’t want to think about it. So, can you just—just fucking drop it?”
You gasped quietly. Your brows furrowed together as you watched him walk past you. You could see the tension in his jaw, could see the pain etched on his features. He was pushing you away because he didn’t want to come to terms with the news the doctor had given the both of you.
“This isn’t just happening to you,” you called out, seeing his hand hover on the doorknob of his office. “And you’re acting like this isn’t affecting me either… but I’m not disappointed, Harry. You’re still the same man to me, still the love of my life. That doesn’t change because of—”
“It should,” Harry interrupted, feeling his chest tighten. He gripped the doorknob and let out a shaky breath. “I’ll drop the kids off this morning,” he repeated. “But I won’t be able to pick up the kids this afternoon. I’ve got another late night at work.”
Then, he opened the door and stepped out of his office, leaving you alone inside.
Stevie was staring up at Harry after he said goodbye to both Frankie and Sammy. She knew that something had shifted between the both of you and could tell how tense it was, especially after this morning.
“Alright, Stevie girl, you have a good day, okay?”
“Will you be picking us up?” She asked, biting her lower lip anxiously.
“Not today, honey. Your mom will be the one picking you guys up.”
“Will you be home for dinner then?”
Harry sighed. “No, Stevie girl. Work’s been ramping up, so I’ll be at the office later than usual.”
She looked away from him. “I heard you and mom this morning,” she mumbled.
He cleared his throat. “Stevie…”
“And you never yell at her.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that.”
She kept her gaze downwards, staring at her shoes as she gripped the straps of her backpack tightly.
Harry knelt down in front of her and gently took her hands in his. “Stevie girl…”
She didn’t look at him.
He sighed and hooked a finger under her chin. “Hey…” Harry noticed the look in her eyes—sadness and fear. “Me and your mom—we’re okay, Stevie girl. I promise.”
“Then why are you guys fighting? Why are you working so much?”
He didn’t know how to explain it to her, how to tell her that there was something wrong with him and it made him feel like a failure, like less of a man. He took a deep breath and squeezed her hands reassuringly. The bell rang once more, notifying the both of them that Stevie had to go to class soon.
“You’re gonna be late,” he whispered. “Go on.”
Stevie furrowed a brow and pulled her hands from his. Harry was someone that she had put on a pedestal—she truly was a daddy’s girl, but now, it felt like he was choosing work over her, over his family, and it hurt.
It reminded her of the pain she felt when Dylan made her wait only to decide that he no longer wanted to meet her.
“Maybe mom should drop us off tomorrow,” Stevie said, not bothering to look up at him again. “If work is that important, then maybe mom should be the one to bring us to school and pick us up too.”
“Stevie…” he called out, seeing her turn on her heel to walk into the school. “Stevie girl—”
“Bye dad,” she said over her shoulder.
“I love you,” he whispered, jaw clenched as he watched her disappear into the building.
You called his mother when he left with the kids. You didn’t know how to get through to him—you hadn’t ever seen this side of him before, but you knew that his mother would be the one to help. She didn’t ask you to elaborate, didn’t ask what was wrong, she just said she’d be there soon.
You couldn’t help but think about him yelling at you the way he did. It wasn’t that he raised his voice or shouted at you that made you feel uneasy… it was the look of defeat on his face, the look of a man who felt like he wasn’t enough anymore.
While waiting for his mother, you sent Harry a quick text. He read it instantly but didn’t reply, which only made you feel worse.
Why couldn’t you have just let it go?
Why did you have to make a big deal about it?
Before your mind could drift even further, you heard the doorbell ring followed by a couple of knocks. With a deep breath, you walked to the front door and opened it to reveal Harry’s mother on the other side of it.
“Morning,” she said softly. “Feels like I’m meeting both you and Harry more often these days.”
You bit your lower lip anxiously and held the door open even further for her, allowing her to step inside. “I’m sorry for calling you last minute,” you said. “I just—Me and Harry haven’t been—We’re just—”
Her eyes softened and she set her bag down on the sofa, gently pulling you into her arms. “Okay, deep breaths, honey.”
You fell into her and sighed, shutting your eyes as she rubbed your back soothingly. “I didn’t want to call my mom,” you mumbled. “Only because this is about Harry.”
She nodded and pulled back to look down at you. “I understand, it’s okay. Come on. Let’s make some coffee and we can talk.”
You nodded and pulled away, leading her to the kitchen as your mind drifted to Harry. You hated how he left for the day, hated that he didn’t even say I love you or give you a kiss like he normally did.
“He’s working more,” Lourdes said. “Peter’s been telling me that he won’t let him do much at the office.”
You cleared your throat and poured coffee into two mugs, sliding one over to her as you leaned against the kitchen counter. “He’s starting work earlier and staying at the office later.”
“He seemed to have been doing better,” she said. “After our conversation, he seemed… lighter.”
“It was good,” you whispered. “It was great, actually. He made time for us, for the kids.”
“And that weekend you two shared?”
“It was amazing,” you answered. “But we—we were having trouble getting pregnant. No matter what we did, or how we scheduled things… I just couldn’t get pregnant.”
Lourdes’s eyes softened. She immediately reached out to rest a hand over yours. “Did you two see a doctor?”
You nodded. “I was against it actually,” you confessed. “Didn’t want to find out what could be wrong, but…”
“But?”
“It’s not me,” you whispered quietly. “And I think that’s the worst of it. I wish I was the problem.”
Her brows furrowed. “Is it Harry?”
You looked down at your mug.
She sighed. “It’s Harry.”
“He won’t talk about it,” you said. “He’s acting like it just… didn’t happen.”
Lourdes nodded in understanding. “What did the doctors say?”
“Low sperm count,” you answered. “He didn’t even let the doctor finish. He just got up and left… and that was weeks ago.”
“He needs… space,” Lourdes suggested.
“Space? I’ve given him space, Lourdes,” you sighed. “I haven’t brought it up, not until today. I told him that getting pregnant—it’s not worth it if I lose him and I—I’m losing him.”
“He will act like it’s not bothering him,” Lourdes said softly. “But it is. He’s in his head about it all and work—it’s distracting him from thinking about it… because talking about it, even giving thought to it, makes it more real.”
“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered. “I don’t know how to—how to get him back.”
“Did you schedule a follow-up?”
You shook your head. “I brought it up this morning. Said that I was gonna schedule one, but he—he shut down. He never yells at me and today…”
“He yelled at you?” Lourdes asked, eyes widening just slightly.
“It was brief,” you reasoned. “He caught himself.”
She sighed. “Does he know that you asked me to come over?”
“No,” you answered. “He kind of just… left with the kids this morning.”
“He’s going to push you away,” she said. “If he hasn’t already.”
“Then, what do I do?”
“I think you should ask yourself what he would do if the roles were reversed.”
“He’d make me talk about it,” you said. “He wouldn’t want me pushing it as if like it didn’t matter.”
“Then do that.”
“I tried.”
“Try again,” Lourdes said. “Harry’s a sensitive man, but he’s also someone who doesn’t like it when things are out of his control,” she reasoned. “And this—this isn’t something he expected. It wasn’t something he even prepared for.”
You sighed and nodded in agreement. “He looks at me like—like he’s hurt me,” you muttered.
“Because in his eyes, he did,” Lourdes replied. “He can’t give you what you both want… and that’s breaking him.”
“How do I—how do I be there for him when he’s trying to keep me at a distance?”
“He’s stubborn, right?”
You let a small smile line your lips. “He is.”
“And so are you, if I remember correctly,” Lourdes continued. “So, be stubborn right back. It’s not going to be easy, but—but he’ll understand. Sooner or later, he’ll realize what he’s doing.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then you call the cavalry,” she smiled.
Later that night, once Frankie and Sammy were already asleep, you walked in Stevie’s room to make sure she was getting ready for bed. You opened her bedroom door to see her writing in her journal at her desk.
“Hey, baby,” you said softly. You knew she had been quiet all dinner, the absence of Harry being something that was affecting her a great deal already. He hadn’t come home yet, which meant he didn’t only miss dinner, but he missed bedtime too.
“Hey, mom,” she replied, glancing up at you briefly before looking back down at her journal. “I’m heading to bed, don’t worry.”
“I know,” you answered, walking into her room and sitting at the edge of her bed. You saw her write one last thing before shutting the journal and setting it aside. “You okay?”
Stevie shrugged. “Just tired, I guess.”
“Was school okay today?” You asked.
“Yeah.”
“Stevie…”
The young girl sighed. For a brief moment, she looked like that same five year old with sadness etched on her features when Dylan stood her up.
“I’m fine, mom.”
“Baby…” you sighed, gently pulling her to your side as she sat next to you. “Your dad—”
“Is busy,” she interrupted. “I get it.”
“Was drop off this morning—”
“It was fine,” she interrupted. Stevie pulled away from you and climbed into bed.
“You’re not fine,” you said.
“I heard you both this morning,” she blurted out. “Whatever it was… sounded bad.” Stevie looked away, biting her lower lip nervously.
You sighed. You hadn’t meant for her or either of the kids to hear your argument with Harry. That wasn’t something you wanted them to witness either.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “But we’re okay. Dad and I—we’re okay.”
“You both are liars,” Stevie said, shaking her head. “I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“I know that. We know that.”
“You don’t. Neither does dad,” Stevie replied. “I’m just—I’m tired, mom. Can I go to sleep now?”
You sighed and nodded, leaning over to kiss her cheek as she moved away. “Night, baby. I love you.”
Stevie didn’t answer. She turned on her side to have her back face you as you stood from her bed. You bit your lower lip as you left her room, sighing quietly at how quiet the entire home was now.
You walked down the hallway and into your bedroom, grabbing your phone from the nightstand to send Harry another text. This had been the longest you both had gone without talking to each other throughout the day.
He replied rather quickly and you sighed in relief.
[HARRY]: Yes, I’m on my way home now.
But then, he sent another text and your stomach dropped. Tears filled your eyes. How could you be stubborn and push forward when he was doing a really great job at pushing you away?
[HARRY]: Don’t wait up for me.
You were already in bed by the time Harry came home. You could hear his sighs as he quietly tiptoed into the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him. You turned on the light from your nightstand and looked up at him, biting your lower lip at the sight of him.
He looked exhausted.
Harry sighed when he saw that you were awake, removing his blazer and tie slowly. “I’m sorry to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” you said quietly. “I was already awake. I couldn’t sleep.”
“Sorry,” he repeated. “Work was just—it was busy.”
“You missed dinner.”
“I know,” he whispered.
“And bedtime,” you said.
Harry sighed again. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re pushing us away,” you confessed.
He couldn’t look at you. “I’m gonna shower.”
“Harry—”
“I really don’t want to talk,” he interrupted. “Can we not… do this? Please.”
Your brows furrowed. “I’m losing you.”
“What?”
“You won’t talk to me. You can’t even look at me.”
He let out a breath. “You’re right. I can’t look at you,” Harry blurted out. “Because every time I do, I think about what the doctor said… and you’re just a reminder of what I can’t give you… and that fucking hurts.”
You stood up slowly. You tried to reach out for him but he just shook his head. “Harry—”
“I’m really tired, baby,” he pleaded, voice catching in his throat. “Please, just—just leave it alone.”
“You’re missing dinner and you’re missing bedtime,” you whispered. “How much longer do you think you can keep doing this until Frankie and Sammy take notice?”
Harry looked down at you briefly. His mind drifted to Stevie and the conversation he had with her that morning.
“Work’s—”
“Busy, yeah, I get it,” you finished for him. “I don’t want to get pregnant,” you confessed. “I don’t need to get pregnant, Harry.”
He finally looked at you and held your gaze. You could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You’re just saying that because—”
“I’m happy,” you interjected. “I’m more than happy with the life we have now,” you said, taking another step closer to him. When he didn’t move away, you continued until you could reach out to rest a hand over his chest. “And nothing is wrong with you.”
Harry looked into your eyes. He inhaled shakily at the feel of your touch, but he couldn’t look at you and see anything other than disappointment.
So, he straightened his back and pulled away. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore. You should get some sleep,” Harry said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Harry—” Tears now filled your own eyes. “Stop pushing me away.”
“Then stop making me,” he blurted out abruptly. He looked taken aback by the words that left his lips and when he noticed the look of hurt flash across your features, he reached out for you out of habit. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry—”
“I wish you would just let me in,” you whispered, pulling away from him slowly. “I don’t know how to fix this… and you won’t even let me try.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” Harry answered. “Whatever is going on with me… it can’t be fixed.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You think I want to try?” He asked. “You think I want to put myself—and you—through that only to be fucking disappointed again? No, it’s not worth it.”
“You keep making these decisions for me,” you said, bringing a hand up to wipe your eyes. “And it’s not fair… because you know that if I was in your position, you’d make me talk about it… you’d want to try and fix it.”
“Yeah, but that’s not the case here, is it? Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s me. It’s always me,” he confessed.
“I wish something was wrong with me,” you muttered, staring at him with tears trickling down your cheeks. The hurt on your features wasn’t because of the fact that you likely wouldn’t get pregnant again. Instead, it was because of him—because he was pushing you away and talking to you like nothing you said mattered. “I wish it was me instead of you.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s okay for you to say it, but not me?”
He sighed.
“I am losing you, Harry,” you repeated. “The kids and I—we are losing you and you’re letting us.”
“I don’t mean to.”
“But you’re not doing anything about it. I’m here—standing in front of you, telling you what’s wrong, what we should do, and you won’t even hear it.”
His jaw tightened.
Harry finally looked away.
“We can’t have another child because of me,” he mumbled, voice trembling. “What don’t you understand about that? It’s because of me!”
“And that’s okay! That doesn’t make you any less of a man or father than you already are.” You said, reaching out hesitantly to touch his arm but he just reeled back and away from you. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”
He turned his gaze back to you. His eyes were glassy. “I want you to tell me how you really feel… how disappointed you are, how—how you feel let down because of it, because of me.”
“But that’s not true,” you replied. “That’s not how I feel.”
“Well, it’s how I feel!”
Your eyes softened. Finally, you and Harry were getting somewhere. He was being honest and telling you the truth about it all.
“Baby,” you whispered.
But just as quickly as it came, Harry let the walls back up. He shook his head, almost like he was trying to shake himself out of the fact that he had let his guard down. “I’ll sleep in the guest room,” he said. “Good night, baby.”
“Harry, just—”
He grabbed a change of clothes and looked at you once more before making his way to the door. “I love you,” he whispered. “But I just can’t do this right now.”
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