🌟 SERIES
Somewhere Between Us (Harry Styles x OC)
Status: Complete
→ Series Masterlist
The Life We Made — A collection of Harry & Nora One-Shots (Harry Styles x OC)
Status: Ongoing
→ Series Masterlist
Between Shifts (Harry Styles x OC)
Status: Ongoing
→ Series Masterlist
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The One (Harry Styles x Y/N)
Status: On Hold
This is the slow-burning, deeply intimate story of Y/N and Harry - two people who fall into something that feels like love before they ever find the words for it. Set against the backdrop of everyday life, their relationship unfolds through quiet moments, shared laughter, and unspoken longing, as they navigate the vulnerability of giving your heart to someone without knowing what comes next. It’s a story about timing, trust, and the beautiful mess of letting love grow at its own pace.
Morning Pace (Harry Styles x Reader)
→ Part 1, Part 2
Between Questions (Harry Styles x Reader)
Come Back To Me: The Beginning (Harry Styles x OC)
Come Back To Me (Harry Styles x OC)
Sixty Seconds For You (Harry Styles x Reader)
When You Know, You Know (Harry Styles x Reader)
Practice Makes Perfect (Harry Styles x Reader)
I Rest My Case (Harry Styles x Reader)
Outdoorsy vs. Outsidey (Harry Styles x Reader)
Polka Dots & Bouquets (Harry Styles x Reader)
Every Step Of The Way (Harry Styles x Reader)
I CANNOT WAIT FOR THE FINAL OART IF THE OIFE WE MADE!! i hope they get their baby !! Will you begin writing what’s next for them or will you take a break from harry and nora once ‘the life we made’ is done?? xx
do you listen to any other artists other than Harry? who are ur favs?
I’m a big pop girly through and through - I love Zara Larsson, Dua Lipa, Troye Sivan, Ariana Grande, Sabrina Carpenter, huge Raye fan and thought her album was musicalmaxxing and I loved it!
I’m not great with people asking my favourites cause I like a bit of everything.
I think Olivia Dean is everyone’s favourite - she’s doing bits right now. And I’ve been listening to Risk It All by Bruno Mars cause it’s cute. And my fav is like 90s/00s pop and r&b!
are you gonna be adding anymore parts to ‘amsterdam’ or is it just the two? also do you picture ‘room for one more’ happening during amsterdam or before or after? i’m jsut trying to picture a timeline for them
Just the two parts for Amsterdam! There are some one shots in the Harry/Nora universe that aren't necessarily canon, and Amsterdam is one of them. But if I had to find a place for it... I would say maybe after Room for One.
Genre/Warning: discussions of miscarriage/pregnancy loss, postpartum depression, medical trauma, hospital scenes involving a sick child (non-life-threatening), anxiety/PTSD themes, emotional distress, discussions around fertility and pregnancy after loss.
Summary: After years of building a beautiful life together, Harry and Nora find themselves revisiting the idea of a third child after heartbreak, trauma, and a miscarriage nearly convinced them they were done growing their family. As Nora works through fears she never fully unpacked — postpartum depression, grief, and the terrifying vulnerability of wanting something again — she and Harry slowly learn how to talk about it honestly instead of fearfully. Between late-night hospital visits, therapy sessions, sleepy cuddles with their children, and deeply emotional conversations, they begin finding their way back to hope… and back to each other.
Series Masterlist: Here
Masterlist: Here
The Friday before Remy’s birthday has the very particular energy of a house trying to hide joy from someone who notices everything.
Nora is convinced Remy knows. Not because anyone has said anything, and not because the piano is visible — it is not, thanks to a frankly heroic amount of furniture rearranging, one large sheet, and Harry standing in the living room for ten full minutes muttering, “Is this obvious?” while Nora said, “Harry, it’s a piano, not a pair of socks, of course it’s obvious” — but because Remy has instincts. She can feel when adults are being interesting without her, and she hates it.
Luckily, Anne has taken Leo out for the morning under the excuse of giving everyone breathing room, which Nora knows means she has been quietly enlisted into birthday operations. Leo is with her at a little café and then, supposedly, the park if he doesn’t start trying to put stones in his mouth. Remy is at nursery, spending one of her last days there before officially becoming five, which she has been reminding them of for two weeks.
So for once, the house belongs to Harry and Nora. Or, more accurately, the living room floor belongs to wrapping paper, ribbons, small boxes, tape that keeps disappearing, and two half-finished gin and tonics Harry made at eleven-thirty in the morning with the very firm justification that birthday prep is admin, and admin requires morale.
Nora is sitting cross-legged in the middle of it all, wrapping a set of watercolour pencils with more care than they probably require. Harry is opposite her with his legs stretched out, humming along to the music playing softly from the speaker, his hair pushed back messily, tape stuck to one knee. He’s wrapping a book about dragons and keeps getting distracted reading bits of it.
“You are not helping,” Nora says without looking up.
“I’m quality checking.”
“You’re reading.”
“It’s about dragons who run a bakery,” he says, turning a page. “This is excellent literature.”
“It’s for your almost-five-year-old daughter.”
“Exactly. She has taste.”
Nora smiles despite herself and reaches for a ribbon. For a little while, the room is easy. Bright late-morning light through the windows, music low, paper crinkling, the quiet satisfaction of making a small mountain of things Remy will love. Nothing overboard. Nora had been very clear about that. A few books, paints, a new dress-up cloak, a dragon puppet Remy had seen months ago and not stopped mentioning. A proper sketchbook. Some hair clips shaped like stars. Things chosen because they felt like her.
And then, of course, there is the piano. Not a grand piano. Not some ridiculous showy thing. A beautiful upright one they found through a friend of a friend, dark wood, warm tone, small enough to fit in the front room without making the house feel like a music school. It had been delivered two days earlier while Remy was out, tuned that morning while Harry distracted her upstairs with a story about why certain men were in their house “measuring sound.” Remy had been curious, obviously, but then Leo had thrown a banana and the subject had blessedly changed.
“She’s going to lose her mind,” Harry says suddenly, looking toward the covered shape in the other room.
Nora glances up. “Yeah.”
“You alright?”
“Yep.”
But he hears it. The thinness in her voice. The way she looks down too quickly. “Nora.”
“I’m fine.”
“This is the third time today.”
She presses her lips together, but her eyes have already gone wet. “I know.”
Harry’s face softens instantly. “Baby.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, laughing at herself while a tear escapes anyway. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being ridiculous.”
“You’re not.”
“My baby is turning five,” she says, wiping under one eye with the heel of her hand. “What do you want from me?”
Harry puts the dragon bakery book down immediately. “Come here.”
“I’m holding scissors.”
“Put the scissors down and come here.”
She gives him a watery look but does as she’s told, setting the scissors safely aside before crawling across the wrapping paper toward him. He opens his arms, and she settles into him without hesitation, knees on either side of his hips, her body folding into his as he wraps both arms around her tightly. It’s not elegant. There is ribbon caught under one of her knees and a piece of tape stuck to his sleeve. But it is exactly what she needs.
Harry presses his mouth to her temple. “She’s five,” he murmurs. “And look at her.”
Nora exhales shakily against his shoulder. “I know.”
“No, really. Look at her. She’s polite... when she wants to be.”
Nora laughs wetly. “Harry.”
“She’s sassy beyond belief, which she definitely doesn’t get from me.”
“She definitely gets that from you.”
“She’s full of life,” he continues, ignoring her. “She’s funny. She’s kind. She’s a good sister, even when Leo’s pulling her hair and ruining her drawings. She talks to us when she’s sad or mad. She asks questions that make me need to lie down afterwards. She’s brave.”
Nora closes her eyes, tears slipping quietly into the fabric of his jumper.
“We did alright,” he says softly.
That makes her cry a little harder, which is annoying because he was clearly trying to help. Harry notices and immediately kisses her hair again. “That came out wrong. We did more than alright.”
“No, I know.” She pulls back slightly, wiping her face with the edge of her sleeve. “I’m so proud of her. That’s the stupid thing. I’m so proud of her.”
“That’s not stupid.”
“It’s just…” She looks toward the wrapped gifts, then toward the hidden piano, then back at him. “It’s the nostalgic thing.”
He nods solemnly. “The nosmagic.”
Nora laughs despite herself. “Don’t.”
“She coined it.”
“She misheard it.”
“And improved it.”
Nora smiles faintly, then lets her forehead drop against his again. “It is kind of nosmagic though.”
“Yeah?”
“Happy and achey.” Her voice goes quieter. “Time is such a gift, and also… such a thief.”
Harry’s arms tighten a little around her.
“I know she’s still little,” Nora says. “She’s five. That’s tiny. But she’s not a baby anymore. She’s a person. A whole person. With opinions and jokes and secrets and preferences. And next year she’ll be six.”
Harry’s mouth twitches. “That is usually how the age thing works.”
Nora lifts her head and smacks his shoulder lightly. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”
“I know, baby.” He catches her hand and kisses her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m a little sorry.”
She glares half-heartedly.
He smiles, then softens again. “I get it. I do. Sometimes I look at her and I can still see that tiny baby who used to fall asleep with her hand on your shirt. And then she opens her mouth and tells me my house drawings look like muffins, and suddenly she’s this whole little person.”
Nora smiles, eyes still damp. “She was so serious as a baby.”
“She looked like she was judging the NHS from day one.”
“She did.”
“And now she's going to judge my wrapping.”
“Because your wrapping is bad.”
Harry looks offended. “My wrapping has charm.”
“Your wrapping has issues.”
He narrows his eyes. “This is a hostile birthday environment.”
Nora laughs properly then, and he looks very pleased with himself for getting her there. He kisses her once, soft and brief, then again when she doesn’t move away.
“Okay,” she says eventually, exhaling. “We need to finish this.”
“We do.”
“When she goes to bed tonight, we’ll do decorations properly.”
“Balloons?”
“Balloons. Bunting. The dragon banner.”
“Princess-dragon banner,” Harry corrects.
“Sorry. The princess-dragon banner.”
“And the cake?”
“In the fridge.”
“Where?”
“Hidden behind the yoghurt.”
Harry pauses. “That’s actually genius.”
“She doesn’t like yoghurt.”
“I’m still really upset that my child doesn’t like yoghurt.”
“She has her own mind.”
“She likes olives but not yoghurt. Make it make sense.”
“She is your daughter.”
“I love yoghurt.”
“You also like weird pickled things.”
“That’s unrelated.”
They finish the last of the wrapping with the slightly frantic efficiency of parents who have been given a limited time window. Harry disappears to check the piano bow — a huge soft satin thing in purple because Remy had recently announced purple was the colour of dragons — while Nora tidies the wrapping paper scraps into a bag and hides the smaller gifts upstairs.
Anne gets back first, carrying Leo against her hip and looking amusedly tired. Leo has one shoe missing and a small paper bag from the bakery clutched in one hand.
“Successful outing?” Nora asks.
Anne steps inside and kisses her cheek. “He tried to befriend a pigeon, steal my scone, and remove his trousers in public.”
“Busy day, then.”
“Very.”
Leo reaches for Nora immediately. “Hi, Mummy.”
“Hi, my little chaos,” she says, taking him and kissing his cheek. “You ready for a nap?”
“No.”
“Excellent. That means yes.”
Harry appears behind her, wiping invisible dust off his hands like he’s been doing manual labour instead of tying a bow. “Piano’s ready.”
Anne’s eyes soften. “Oh, she’s going to be beside herself.”
Nora smiles, but it wobbles again. Anne sees it at once. Of course she does. She reaches over and squeezes Nora’s arm gently. “Five is hard.”
Nora lets out a laugh. “I haven’t said anything.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Harry takes Leo upstairs for his nap while Anne helps Nora do one final living-room check. The sheet is removed now, the piano standing proudly against the wall with the enormous purple bow tied around it. It looks like it has always belonged there. That’s the strange thing. As if the house was waiting for it.
“She’ll remember this,” Anne says softly.
Nora glances at her. “You think?”
“I know.”
Nora looks at the piano again, throat tight. “She’s growing so fast.”
Anne smiles gently. “They do that. Inconsiderate, really.”
Harry leaves a few minutes later to pick Remy up, and the wait somehow feels longer than all the preparation. Nora keeps adjusting things that do not need adjusting. The bow. The little card on the piano bench. The angle of the stool. Anne finally catches her by both shoulders and turns her away from it.
“Leave it alone.”
“I’m not touching it.”
“You were about to.”
When the front door finally opens, Remy’s voice arrives before she does. “I told Daddy I don’t think five is old-old, but it’s definitely medium old!”
Harry’s voice follows. “And I said that was deeply insulting to everyone over five.”
“You are very old,” Remy says.
“I’m thirty-two.”
“Exactly.”
Nora steps into the hallway quickly, perhaps too quickly, because Remy stops halfway through taking her coat off and narrows her eyes.
“Hi, Mumma.”
“Hi, birthday-eve girl.”
Remy looks at her suspiciously. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You’re doing a weird face.”
Harry closes the front door behind them and raises his eyebrows at Nora like good luck. Nora crouches in front of Remy, smiling now. “We have a surprise for you.”
Remy gasps so loudly Leo might have heard it in his sleep. “Where?”
“It’s a birthday surprise.”
“Is it a dragon?” Remy asks immediately. “Because I don’t think we can fit one in the house. We might have to keep him outside, but only if he’s waterproof.”
Harry presses his lips together behind her.
Nora laughs. “It’s not a dragon.”
“Oh.”
“But I need you to close your eyes.”
Remy immediately covers her eyes with both hands, then peeks through her fingers.
“No peeking,” Harry says.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was checking you were still there.”
Nora scoops her up before she can argue further. “Come on.”
Remy squeals, legs wrapping around Nora’s waist, hands pressed tightly over her eyes now. “I’m not looking, I’m not looking, I’m not looking.”
Harry follows close behind, his whole face lit with anticipation. Anne stands near the doorway with Nora’s phone, filming, quietly smiling.
Nora carries Remy into the living room and sets her gently on the piano bench. Remy immediately bounces with excitement, hands still over her eyes.
“Can I open?”
“Not yet,” Nora says, standing behind her with both hands on her shoulders.
Harry moves to the side so he can see her face when she looks. He looks ridiculous, honestly. More nervous than Remy. Like he’s about to walk onstage. Nora glances at him and smiles. He smiles back.
“Ready?” Nora asks.
“Yes,” Remy breathes.
“Three…”
Remy starts giggling.
“Two…”
Harry’s hands tuck into his pockets, shoulders lifted slightly.
“One…”
Nora leans close to Remy’s ear. “Surprise!”
Remy drops her hands. For one whole second, she says nothing. She just stares. At the piano. At the bow. At the keys. Then she whispers, “Oh my goodness.”
Harry’s face softens instantly. Remy turns slowly toward him, eyes huge. “It’s a real one?”
Harry nods. “It’s a real one.”
“It makes sounds and everything?”
“Yes,” he says, laughing now. “It makes sounds and everything.”
“For me?”
“For you,” Nora says softly.
Remy looks back at the piano like she’s afraid it might disappear. Then, suddenly, she launches herself off the bench straight into Harry’s arms. He catches her with a surprised laugh, arms closing around her as she wraps herself tightly around his neck.
“The biggest squeeze for you,” she announces into his shoulder.
Harry closes his eyes briefly, smiling over her hair. “Thank you. I feel very honoured.”
“You’re very welcome, bug.” His voice is softer now. “Happy birthday eve. We’re so proud of you.”
Remy pulls back, face shining, then immediately reaches for Nora. “Mumma.”
Nora lifts her without hesitation and gets a fierce hug around the neck, followed by several slightly damp kisses on her cheek.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Remy says again, then blows a raspberry against Nora’s cheek for reasons known only to herself.
Nora shrieks laughing. “Remy!”
Remy giggles wildly and squeezes her harder. “You’re the best Mumma. You’re the best Daddy. You’re the best Nanna.”
Anne puts a hand to her chest. “Well, I’m very glad I made the list.”
Remy wriggles down and rushes back to the piano, stopping right in front of it with both hands hovering like she’s approaching a wild animal.
“Can I touch it?”
Harry crouches beside her. “Yeah. Gently.”
She presses one key. A clear note rings out into the room. Remy gasps. Then she presses another. And another. Nora stands beside Harry while Remy experiments with sound, her little face lit with awe.
“You did good,” Nora whispers.
Harry glances at her. “We did.”
“No,” she says softly, looking at Remy. “This was your idea.”
He smiles faintly. “She’s been asking.”
“She asks for a lot of things.”
“Yeah, but this one felt important.”
Nora reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Remy suddenly leans forward and hugs the piano.
Harry blinks. “Did she just hug it?”
“She did.”
Anne, still filming, whispers, “Oh, bless her.”
Remy pats the side of the piano lovingly. “I’ll take care of you.”
Harry clears his throat, suddenly serious. “Speaking of.”
Remy turns, alert.
“We need ground rules.”
She sighs. “Already?”
“Yes. Already.” Harry sits on the edge of the bench beside her. “First rule: if you wake up before us, you cannot come downstairs and start playing the piano.”
Remy opens her mouth.
“No,” Harry says before she can speak.
She closes it.
“Second rule,” Nora adds, “Leo is not allowed to climb it, lick it, draw on it, or store toast in it.”
Remy nods gravely. “I’ll watch him.”
“You are not responsible for Leo,” Nora says. “But you can help remind us.”
“Third,” Harry says, “we’re going to get you proper lessons. So you listen to your teacher and you practice gently.”
“Yes.”
“And you treat it carefully.”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t bang on the keys.”
“Yes.”
“And no stickers.”
Remy looks personally wounded. “I would never.”
Nora gives her a look.
“I might have thought about it,” Remy admits.
“No stickers,” Harry repeats.
Remy nods firmly. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
“Good.”
“I’ll use Milo as a guard dog,” she adds.
Nora glances toward Milo, who is asleep in a patch of sun and has not reacted once to the major life event happening six feet away.
“I don’t think Milo will care that much.”
“He will if I train him.”
Harry laughs softly. “Good luck with that.”
Remy turns back to the keys, pressing a few more notes. “Can you teach me something now?”
Harry looks at Nora, then at Anne, then back at Remy.
“Yeah,” he says, sitting properly beside her. “I can teach you something.”
Nora watches as he places his hands gently over Remy’s smaller ones, showing her where to put her fingers. Not too much. Not pushing. Just enough. His voice low and patient, Remy’s whole body leaning toward him with absolute focus.
Anne steps beside Nora, both of them watching quietly.
“She’ll remember this,” Anne says again.
Nora nods, eyes wet again but smiling now. “I know,” she whispers.
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The house wakes before the sun properly does. Just slowly, softly — fairy lights still glowing faintly around the kitchen archway, ribbons curling slightly overnight, paper decorations hanging from the ceiling that Harry had insisted were “easy” to put up before nearly falling off a chair at midnight.
It looks magical.
There are pastel streamers hanging around Remy’s bedroom doorway upstairs, little paper dragons mixed with princess crowns because she’d refused to choose between themes. Balloons float lazily near the ceiling. The dining table has already been extended for the afternoon party, covered currently in organised chaos — paper plates, napkins, tiny party bags Nora still needs to fill later, and one very important cake hidden safely in the fridge downstairs behind several yoghurts and a suspicious amount of spinach.
Nora is awake before everyone else because, frankly, she knows her daughter. There is not a world in which Remy Anne Styles sleeps in on her fifth birthday.
So by seven-thirty, Nora is already downstairs in leggings and one of Harry’s hoodies, hair tied messily up, quietly moving through the kitchen with the comfort of routine. Pancakes are stacked and staying warm in the oven. Strawberries and bananas are cut into little bowls. Bacon is ready in the fridge. Coffee is brewing. Tea is steeping beside her elbow while she sits for exactly three peaceful minutes at the kitchen island finishing the last lines inside Remy’s birthday card.
To my beautiful girl,
Five years of loving you has been the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
She pauses there for a second, swallowing around the sudden sting in her throat. “Absolutely not,” she mutters quietly to herself. “We’re not crying before eight a.m.”
Then she hears it. A creak upstairs. Nora freezes instantly, pen still in hand. Another sound. A bedroom door opening. And then a huge gasp. Followed immediately by frantic little giggles.
Nora presses her lips together hard to stop herself laughing. Right on cue.
Heavy little footsteps race down the hallway upstairs toward the master bedroom, and Nora winces instinctively because Remy is definitely running too fast, but before she can even call out, she hears Harry’s groggy voice erupt through the ceiling.
“What is going— what—”
“DADDY!”
And then laughter. Big, delighted, half-awake laughter.
“Happy birthday!” Harry says loudly, clearly pulled awake by pure chaos.
“I’M FIVE!”
“Not possible.”
“IT'S TRUE!”
Nora smiles into her tea. There’s muffled talking she can’t fully make out, Harry dramatically gasping like he’s just discovered some shocking truth, Remy squealing louder in response, and then—
“MUMMA!”
Nora raises her voice toward the ceiling. “I’m downstairs, birthday girl! Careful on the stairs!”
She hears the immediate thunder of feet anyway. Fast. Too fast.
Harry’s voice follows behind, “Remy, slow down—!”
But then Remy appears in the kitchen doorway like a whirlwind, curls wild from sleep, pyjamas twisted, birthday excitement radiating off her entire body.
Nora puts a hand dramatically over her chest. “Oh no. That can’t be Remy the five-year-old.”
“It’s me!” Remy says instantly, running straight at her. “I am five!”
“No…” Nora shakes her head slowly. “No, I don’t think so. My Remy is four.”
“Mummy,” Remy groans dramatically.
Nora laughs and opens her arms. “Get over here then.”
Remy launches herself into her immediately, legs wrapping around Nora’s waist while Nora lifts her properly, holding her tightly against her chest. And there it is again, that ache. That impossible feeling of somehow holding both the baby she used to be and the girl she’s becoming all at once.
Nora kisses one cheek. Then the other. Then her forehead.
“Happy birthday, my bestest girl,” she whispers softly. “Five years old. Can you believe it?”
Remy beams at her, hands squishing Nora’s cheeks affectionately. “Thank you, Mummy. I love you so much.”
“I love you more.”
“Noooo,” Remy argues immediately. “I'm right.” Then Remy spots the presents stacked along the kitchen island. Her entire body goes still.
“Mumma…” she whispers reverently. “Are those my presents?”
Nora follows her gaze innocently. “No. Those are for a birthday girl who’s five.”
Remy turns back to her slowly. “It’s me! I am five! Those are my presents!”
Before Nora can answer, Harry finally appears downstairs looking half asleep and entirely beautiful, hair a mess, grey joggers low on his hips, carrying a still-snoozing Leo against his shoulder. Leo’s cheek is squished against Harry’s collarbone, one little hand dangling sleepily while Harry rubs circles over his back.
“Morning,” Harry says hoarsely.
“Daddy,” Remy gasps. “Mummy forgot I’m five.”
Harry immediately looks scandalised. “That’s terrible parenting.”
“I know.”
Nora narrows her eyes. “Excuse me.”
But Harry’s already grinning, coming over to kiss her quickly. Soft morning kiss. Then another one to the side of her head.
“Happy survived-labour day,” he murmurs against her temple.
Nora snorts. “Romantic.”
“I try.”
Leo chooses that moment to stir, blinking slowly before lifting his head and mumbling, “Mummy.”
“There he is,” Nora says softly, reaching over to stroke his hair. “Morning, my baby.”
Leo looks around blearily, spots the balloons, and immediately points. “Loon.”
“Yeah,” Harry says. “Bit much, innit?”
“No,” Remy says firmly. “It’s perfect.”
Anne appears not long after in her dressing gown, still tying the belt as she walks downstairs. “Has the birthday tornado landed yet?”
“I HEARD THAT,” Remy yells proudly.
Anne laughs. “Good. Means your hearing still works at five.”
The kitchen quickly becomes warm chaos after that. Harry turns music on softly — Stevie Wonder first, because Remy likes anything she can dance to before breakfast. Nora plates pancakes while Anne does bacon. Leo wakes up fully enough to demand fruit immediately. Remy sits at the island wearing the tiny satin birthday sash Nora had hidden in a drawer and the plastic princess crown she absolutely insisted on putting on before present opening.
Nora had handed both over with complete seriousness.
“Well,” she’d said, “you can only open presents if you wear the official birthday attire.”
Remy had gasped so dramatically you’d think Nora had handed her the crown jewels. Now she sits there absolutely glowing, crown slightly crooked already.
“Can I open one now?” she asks for the seventh time.
“You may,” Harry says grandly.
Remy immediately grabs the nearest gift, then pauses. “Wait.”
Everyone looks at her. She clears her throat dramatically. “Thank you for my birthday.”
Harry has to physically look away because he starts smiling too hard.
Anne presses a hand to her chest. “Oh, she’s precious.”
Then the wrapping paper explosion begins.
Every gift gets opened with full emotional commitment. Remy gasps at books. She hugs the dragon puppet. She thanks everyone individually without being prompted, which makes Nora emotional all over again.
“Oh no,” Harry mutters when he spots her face. “How many times have you cried this morning?”
“It’s not funny,” Nora says immediately, voice wobbling.
“It’s a little funny.”
“I’m emotional!”
“You’ve cried over pancakes already.”
“I made them into love hearts!”
Anne bursts out laughing. Remy pauses mid-unwrapping. “Mummy, why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” Nora lies terribly.
“You are.”
“She’s got birthday feelings,” Harry explains solemnly.
“Nosmagic?” Remy asks knowingly.
“Yes,” Harry says. “Extreme nosmagic.”
Remy nods like she completely understands. Anne hands over her present next, a beautiful little jewellery box with painted flowers on top, and Remy throws herself at her with a fierce hug.
“Thank you, Nanna!”
“You’re welcome, darling girl.”
Then Nora reaches for another wrapped gift carefully. “This one’s from Grandad and Carrie.”
Remy’s face lights up. “Really?”
“They’re very sorry they couldn’t come,” Nora says gently. “But they said they’ll FaceTime tonight and sing to you very badly.”
Remy giggles immediately. “Grandad sings too loud!”
“He absolutely does.”
“They’re on their big holiday adventure,” Harry adds.
“And Grandad said,” Nora continues, reading from the little card attached, “‘Happy birthday to our brilliant, funny, dragon-loving girl.’”
Remy smiles softly at that before opening it carefully. It’s a little silver charm bracelet with tiny stars and a 'R' charm hanging from it.
“Oh,” Remy whispers. “It’s beautiful.”
Nora presses her lips together hard again. Harry notices immediately. Of course he does. He walks over while Remy is distracted showing Anne the bracelet and wraps both arms around Nora from behind, chin dropping onto her shoulder.
“You alright?” he murmurs quietly.
“She’s just…” Nora swallows. “She’s so happy.”
“I know.”
“And she’s five.”
“I know.”
“And I made her.”
Harry smiles against her hair. “You did. Very impressive work.”
Nora laughs softly through the tears.
“She’s okay, baby,” he whispers. “You’re okay. This is all good stuff.”
“I know it is.” She leans back against him. “It’s just my baby.”
Harry squeezes her tighter. “She’ll always be your baby.”
Then, after a beat, he adds, “Even when she’s forty and still asking us for money.”
“I won’t!” Remy shouts from across the kitchen.
Harry calls back immediately, “You absolutely will.”
The morning stretches warmly after that. Pancakes disappear. Leo throws blueberries onto the floor with artistic intention. Remy sits cross-legged on a chair explaining the structure of her party later.
“And then Poppy’s coming,” she says importantly, syrup somehow on her cheek now. “And Amara.”
Nora smiles softly at the name. “Mmhm.”
“And Uncle Gem and Aunty Michal.”
Harry coughs laughing into his coffee.
“Aunty Gem and Uncle Michal,” Nora corrects gently.
“That’s what I said.”
“It really wasn’t.”
“And then we’re doing cake,” Remy continues, ignoring them both. “And dancing. And maybe dragon training.”
“Dragon training?” Anne repeats.
“Yes.”
“What does that involve?”
Remy thinks for a moment. “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Fair.”
Eventually Leo starts rubbing at his eyes again despite having only been awake two hours.
“Right,” Nora says, standing. “I think somebody needs a nap before the party.”
“No nap,” Leo protests weakly.
“That’s what tired people say.”
Harry gets up too, grabbing empty plates while Remy begins carefully reorganising her presents into categories only she understands.
As Nora passes him, Harry catches her wrist gently.
“Wait,” he says quietly.
She looks up. He reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a tiny velvet box.
Nora blinks. “Harry.”
“It’s not big,” he says quickly. “Before you start.”
“Why did you get me a present?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Felt weird not to.”
Nora opens the little box carefully. Inside is a delicate gold charm — tiny and simple — shaped like the number five. Her eyes instantly fill again.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Harry says affectionately. “Not again.”
Nora laughs wetly. “Harry.”
“It’s for your necklace,” he says softly. “Thought that… this birthday seems to be a big deal. For both of us.”
She looks up at him properly then.
And there it is again — that deep, unbearable tenderness that always sneaks up on her when it comes to him. The quiet ways he loves. The ways he notices.
“You’re ridiculous,” she whispers.
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t get you anything.”
“You gave me Remy.”
“That was a joint effort.”
Harry grins. “You did most of the heavy lifting.”
Nora steps into him immediately, wrapping both arms around his neck while he catches her around the waist.
“Thank you,” she whispers against his cheek.
He kisses her softly once. Then again. Then a third time, louder on purpose. Remy groans dramatically from the island. “NOT AGAIN”
Harry doesn’t even look away from Nora. “That’s what happens when people are in love, bug.”
“I don't like it.”
Nora laughs into Harry’s shoulder while he squeezes her tighter, one hand sliding briefly down to smack her bum lightly.
“Alright,” she says finally, pulling back with a sigh. “Time to get the rest of this house sorted before children destroy it.”
“That’s the spirit,” Harry says. Then he kisses her forehead one more time before taking Leo from her arms.
──────────────
By midday, the house barely feels like a house anymore. It feels like a birthday explosion.
The garden is alive with noise — little kid shrieks, music drifting softly through the speakers Harry set up outside earlier, adults talking over one another while trying to balance paper plates and cups of wine, the occasional bark from Milo every time somebody runs too close to his sunbathing spot. There are pastel balloons tied to the fence, dragon cut-outs taped along the garden wall beside glittery princess banners, and a long table full of snacks that Nora spent far too much time pretending she wasn’t emotionally attached to.
And right in the middle of all of it is Remy. Birthday crown still firmly on her head despite the fact it keeps sliding sideways. Pink tulle skirt. Glittery trainers. Absolute chaos.
She’s currently sprinting through the grass with Poppy and Amara behind her while shouting something about dragons stealing treasure, her little sash bouncing against her chest while Harry chases after them half-heartedly with a foam sword he definitely didn’t need to buy.
“I’m too young to die!” Harry yells dramatically as the girls corner him by the flower beds.
“Yes you are!” Remy shouts back.
“That doesn’t even make sense!”
“You’re going to jail!” Poppy adds for some reason.
“For what crime?” Harry laughs.
“Being a dragon!”
And then all three girls tackle him anyway.
Across the garden, Gemma is doubled over laughing while Michal films the whole thing on his phone. Their baby girl is sitting beside Leo on a picnic blanket while Leo repeatedly hands her building blocks and then immediately steals them back.
Anne walks through the back doors carrying another wrapped present she claims she apparently forgot in the car, which is complete nonsense because Nora already knows Anne has bought enough things for Remy to survive an apocalypse.
Nora catches sight of the gift bag and immediately narrows her eyes. “Anne.”
Anne doesn’t even look guilty. “What?”
“You spoil her.”
“She’s five.”
“She already got spoilt.”
“And now she’s getting spoilt again.”
Nora sighs dramatically while taking the bag from her anyway. “You’re impossible. Honestly, between you and Harry, this child doesn’t stand a chance of becoming normal.”
“Have you met her?” Anne asks dryly. “That ship sailed years ago.”
As if summoned, Remy suddenly appears beside them breathless and sweaty, curls sticking to her forehead. “Nanna, Daddy just died.”
Anne gasps dramatically. “Again?”
“Yes.”
“That's tragic!”
“He was very brave though,” Remy adds thoughtfully before grabbing a handful of crisps and sprinting off again. Nora watches her go with this helpless little smile that keeps catching her off guard all day. Every few minutes it sneaks up on her all over again.
Five. Five years old. How is that possible?
The afternoon keeps moving around her in warm little snapshots. Harry grilling things badly while pretending he’s excellent at it. Gemma fixing one of the decorations after it falls down. Amara and Poppy helping Remy organise a “dragon dance performance” that makes absolutely no sense. Leo running around the grass in little overalls saying “cake” every three minutes despite already having some. And Nora keeps finding herself stopping just to look at it.
At all of them. At this whole life.
Which is exactly how she somehow ends up crying beside the snack table. Again.
It’s not even dramatic crying. Just stupid sudden tears while she’s rearranging bowls of crisps because apparently her emotions now live directly behind her eyeballs. She sniffles quickly, wiping beneath one eye before anybody notices.
“Careful,” Anne’s voice says behind her mildly. “You’ll salt the dips.”
Nora lets out a startled laugh immediately, pressing a hand to her chest. “Shit.”
Anne walks beside her carrying two glasses of wine, handing one over casually before leaning her hip against the table. “You’re doing it again.”
“I know,” Nora groans softly, accepting the wine. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re apologising for crying at your child’s birthday party?”
“I’ve cried like six times today.”
“Only six?” Anne replies. “You’re doing better than I expected.”
Nora laughs again, shaking her head while dabbing carefully beneath her eyes. “I’m glad it’s you finding me instead of Harry because he’s become incredibly smug about this.”
Anne grins. “Oh, he’s definitely making fun of you later.”
“He already is.”
“As he should.”
Nora gasps softly. “Traitor.”
Anne bumps her shoulder gently. “Sweetheart, this is what happens when your first baby grows up. It knocks the wind out of you a bit.”
Nora stares out into the garden quietly for a moment. Remy is now standing on one of the garden chairs giving what appears to be a speech to the other children while Harry watches nearby like a very stressed security guard.
“She just…” Nora exhales shakily. “Gosh. She was so little yesterday.”
Anne’s face softens immediately because she knows exactly what she means.
“I remember watching Gemma turn five,” she says quietly. “And I remember thinking, well, that’s it then. I’ve survived the hardest years.” She smiles faintly to herself. “And then Harry came along and I cried all over again.”
Nora laughs softly into her wine. “Oh great. So I get to do this three times in total.”
Anne opens her mouth to respond. Then pauses. Nora pauses too. And immediately goes still. Because she hears what she said exactly one second too late.
“Oh,” she says weakly.
Anne’s eyebrows lift very slightly. Nora’s entire face changes instantly. “Shit.”
Anne says nothing.
“N-no, wait,” Nora blurts quietly, already flustered. “Please don’t say anything. I didn’t mean to— it just slipped out and we’re not— we’re not announcing anything or talking about it with anyone and there’s nothing to announce anyway, we’re just—”
“Nora.”
“And we’re taking it really slow and careful and—”
“Nora.”
Nora finally stops rambling long enough to look at her. Anne’s expression is impossibly gentle. “Breathe,” she says softly.
Nora immediately exhales a shaky laugh.
“It’s okay,” Anne continues quietly. “I’m not going to say anything.”
Nora presses her lips together hard. “We’re just… talking about it.”
Anne nods once like she understands far more than Nora’s actually saying. And she probably does. “I’m happy for you,” she says simply.
Nora’s eyes sting instantly all over again. “Anne—”
“Oh, don’t start again,” Anne says fondly before leaning over to kiss her cheek quickly. “You’re emotional enough already.”
Nora laughs through it. “It’s just scary,” she admits quietly after a moment. “Even thinking about it.”
Anne’s face softens further somehow. “Of course it is.”
“And exciting,” Nora says quickly. “But scary.”
“Those things usually go together.”
Nora looks back toward the garden. Harry’s got Leo on his shoulders now while Remy drags Amara and Poppy toward the bubble machine.
“I just…” Nora swallows. “I love this life so much.”
Anne reaches over and squeezes her hand once. “I know you do.”
There’s a small beat of quiet between them before Anne adds lightly, “And for what it’s worth, you’re very good at it.”
Nora looks over. “At what?”
“This.” Anne gestures vaguely toward the whole house, the children, the party, Harry currently pretending to eat Leo’s feet while Leo screeches laughing. “Family. Loving people.”
That one nearly gets Nora crying again immediately. “Oh my God,” she groans. “Stop being nice to me.”
Anne laughs softly. And of course that’s the exact moment Harry appears. He walks up sweaty and slightly grass-stained, sunglasses pushed into his hair, Leo balanced against one hip while holding a half-deflated balloon sword in the other hand. His eyes immediately narrow when he sees Nora’s face.
“…is she crying again?”
Nora gasps loudly. “Hey!”
Harry starts laughing immediately.
“I am your wife,” Nora says dramatically. “You have been mean to me all of yesterday and today.”
“I’ve been supportive!”
“You’ve mocked me repeatedly.”
“You cried at the pancake batter.”
“It looked cute!”
Harry fully loses it laughing then, bending slightly while Leo giggles too despite having absolutely no idea what’s happening.
Nora points accusingly at him. “I can’t wait until these feelings hit you.”
Harry wipes beneath one eye dramatically. “Baby, it's not gonna happen.”
Nora folds her arms. “Interesting. Because when she turns eighteen and suddenly doesn’t want to hold your hand anymore... I’ll remember this.”
Harry visibly winces. “Okay. Nope. Don’t say things like that.”
“Exactly.”
Anne sips her wine smugly. “Got him there.”
Harry looks personally betrayed. “Whose side are you on?”
“The entertaining one.”
Nora smirks triumphantly before kissing Leo’s cheek as she takes him from Harry's arm. “Come on, my little lion. Let’s go where we're wanted.”
“Hey!”
But Nora’s already walking away back toward the garden, smiling to herself while Harry and Anne laugh behind her. And in the middle of all the noise and music and children and sunlight and growing pains and all this enormous love, she presses a hand briefly against her stomach without even thinking.
By the time the party finally starts winding down, the garden looks like the aftermath of something wonderfully chaotic.
Paper plates abandoned on tables. Half-deflated balloons bobbing lazily against the fence. Tiny glitter shoes forgotten near the back door. Wrapping paper somehow still appearing from random corners of the house despite Nora swearing she cleaned it up twice already.
The music has softened now, low enough to blend into the hum of conversation rather than overpower it. The sharp excitement of the afternoon has melted into something slower, warmer. Everyone’s tired in that satisfied kind of way that follows a really good day.
Poppy is the last of Remy’s little friends still there, currently sitting cross-legged on the patio showing Remy a bracelet she got in a party bag while both girls speak at the exact same time. Poppy’s parents are gathering jackets and leftover cake slices while apologising for staying too long, despite nobody actually wanting them to leave.
“Oh stop,” Nora laughs softly as she packs up slices of cake into containers. “If the girls had their way they’d probably stay awake until midnight.”
“That is true,” Poppy’s mum sighs. “She’s going to sleep in the car and then I’ll suffer later.”
“Worth it though,” Harry says from where he’s leaning against the doorframe.
Poppy’s dad nods toward the garden where Remy is now dramatically explaining something to Poppy. “She’s had the best day.”
Nora’s chest squeezes all over again at that. “She really has,” she says quietly.
Eventually the goodbyes start. Poppy hugs Remy three separate times. Remy insists they need another playdate immediately. There’s sticky little hands waving from the driveway, adults promising to text one another, and then finally the gate clicks shut behind them.
And suddenly quiet.
Well, not silence exactly. Milo’s still snoring near the patio furniture. Music still drifts softly from the speaker in the kitchen. But the loudness of the day is gone now, leaving behind only the four of them. Five, technically, with Anne upstairs having a bath after insisting she was shattered from eating too much cake and spoiling her granddaughter all day.
Harry had taken Leo up about twenty minutes earlier because the poor boy had fully started losing his mind from exhaustion. One minute he’d been happily eating strawberries in Nora’s lap, the next he was roaring at the coffee table because his banana broke in half wrong.
“Yeah,” Harry had sighed, lifting him immediately. “Alright, lion boy. Time for bed.”
Leo had burst into tears anyway.
Now the baby monitor hums softly from the kitchen counter while Nora and Remy sit curled together on the couch surrounded by tissue paper and birthday cards. Remy’s crown is long gone now, curls flattened from a full day of running around, little cheeks flushed pink with tiredness.
Nora strokes her fingers gently through her hair. “You know,” she says carefully, “it’s been a really big day. If you wanted to have a little sleep before dinner later, you probably could.”
Remy immediately narrows her eyes suspiciously. “I’m not tired.”
Nora hums. “Okay.”
“I’m not,” Remy insists again, though her voice has gone noticeably whinier in the last hour.
“Alright, bug,” Nora says lightly. “It was just a suggestion.”
Remy flops sideways dramatically onto the couch cushions. “Maybe just my eyes are tired.”
Nora bites back a smile. “That happens.”
“My legs are tired too.”
“Interesting.”
“And maybe my brain.”
“Mm.”
“But not me.”
“Of course not.”
That’s when Harry walks back downstairs rubbing a hand through his curls, looking equally exhausted himself. “The Lion has been subdued,” he announces quietly.
Nora looks up immediately. “He alright?”
“Completely conked out before I even finished one nursery rhyme.” Harry drops down into the armchair beside them with a tired groan. “Think he was asleep before I left the room.”
Remy perks up slightly. “Daddy.”
“Birthday girl.”
“I had the best birthday ever.”
Harry’s face softens instantly. “Yeah?”
Remy nods seriously. “Thank you for my whole day.”
And there it is again, that ridiculous little ache they both get around her. Because she says things like that so sincerely, like she means every word.
Harry leans forward, elbows on knees. “Did you like all your presents?”
Remy gasps softly like he’s asked the stupidest question imaginable. “Daddy. I got a real piano.”
“Fair point.”
“And tomorrow,” she continues importantly, “I think maybe we should blow up my new little pool because I need to relax.”
Harry stares at her for a beat. Then slowly says, “Oh, do you?”
“Yes.”
“Been a hard day for you, has it?”
“No,” Remy replies honestly. “But it was a hard day for Mummy because she wouldn’t stop crying.”
Nora immediately drops her head into her hands. “Oh great. Both of you now.”
Harry bursts out laughing while Remy grins proudly like she’s contributed something useful. “Mumma cried at breakfast,” she informs him.
“I was there.”
“She cried opening my card.”
“Mhm.”
“She cried during cake.”
“That one was your fault,” Nora mutters. “You hugged me.”
Remy gasps dramatically. “Sorry I love you.”
Harry fully snorts. Before Nora can retaliate, Remy suddenly climbs straight into her lap and wraps both little arms tightly around her neck. A full body cuddle. Warm and all-encompassing. Nora melts instantly, arms circling around her automatically.
Then Remy whispers very seriously into her ear, “Mummy, can I tell you a secret?”
Nora smiles softly against her hair. “Always.”
Remy squeezes her tighter. “You’re my bestest girl.”
And that absolutely destroys Nora. Her face crumples immediately while Harry points accusingly from the armchair.
“Uh oh,” he says knowingly.
Nora laughs through the tears instantly. “I hate everyone in this house.”
Remy pulls back slightly, confused but concerned. “Why do you keep crying? Is it because of the nosmagic?”
Harry starts laughing quietly into his hand. Nora wipes beneath her eyes with a helpless smile. “A little bit, yeah.”
Remy studies her carefully. “But birthdays are happy.”
“They are happy,” Nora says softly. “That’s why I’m crying.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know.”
Remy settles back against her while Nora strokes her curls slowly, trying to find words big enough and small enough all at once.
“You know,” Nora says gently, “when you’re someone’s first baby… it’s very special.”
“I’m your first baby,” Remy says immediately.
“You are.” Nora smiles. “And Daddy and I learned how to be parents because of you. We learned everything with you first. First cuddles. First steps. First words. First birthday.” She swallows slightly. “And now your first time being five.”
Remy listens quietly.
“And every time you grow up a little bit more,” Nora continues softly, “it’s really exciting because we get to see you become this amazing person… but it’s also a little bit sad because it means the tiny version of you disappears a little too.”
Remy frowns. “But I’m still me.”
“You are,” Nora says quickly. “Always. You’ll always be you. But one day you won’t need me to carry you upstairs anymore, or help brush your hair, or read bedtime stories every night.”
Nora laughs softly. “Okay, bad example. But one day you’ll need us differently.”
Remy thinks about that very seriously. “But I still love you.”
Nora’s eyes sting again immediately. “I know, bug.”
“And I need you when I'm scared.”
“I know.”
“And when I’m sick.”
“I know.”
“And if I see a really big spider.”
Harry nods solemnly. “That’s an emergency, to be fair.”
Remy settles this information in her little brain before suddenly grabbing Harry too, leaning sideways dramatically until both parents are trapped in a sleepy five-year-old hug.
“Big squeeze!” she declares.
Harry groans exaggeratedly. “Oh God. She’s strong now.”
Remy squeezes harder. Then, very quietly against Nora’s shoulder, she says, “You don’t have to be sad when I grow up because I’ll still be your bug.”
And that one nearly kills both of them outright. Harry physically drops his head back against the chair. Nora presses a kiss into Remy’s curls because she genuinely cannot speak for a second.
Finally she whispers, “Yeah, baby. You’ll always be our bug.”
The room goes soft after that. Warm. Quiet in that emotional, sleepy post-party way. Then Remy abruptly lifts her head. “Can I go draw outside with Milo?”
Nora blinks. “Right now?”
“Yes. I need inspiration.”
Harry stands immediately. “You need sunscreen first.”
Remy lets out the biggest sigh known to mankind.
“Daddy.”
“You were outside all day.”
“But it's dinner time.”
“It's still sunny. Come on,” Harry says, holding out his hand. “Sunscreen.”
Remy drags herself dramatically off the couch. “I just wanna draw.”
Once they disappear into the kitchen, Nora finally lets herself sink properly into the cushions, exhausted all over again. A minute later Harry returns alone carrying the sunscreen bottle.
“She’s outside lecturing Milo about colours,” he says.
“Good.”
Then, without warning, he drops himself fully on top of Nora lengthways across the couch. Nora yelps immediately. “Harry!”
He just grins and starts kissing her everywhere he can reach — cheek, jaw, forehead, neck.
“You’re heavy!”
“You love me.”
“I don’t know why I’m letting you do this when you’ve laughed at me for the last twenty-four hours.”
Harry laughs against her skin. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“You’re not.”
“I’m a little sorry.”
Nora giggles helplessly when he kisses her again, slower this time, softer. Then his face shifts slightly.
“Our baby’s growing up, huh?” he says quietly.
There it is. The real feeling underneath all the teasing. Nora’s expression softens instantly.
“Yeah,” she whispers. “She is.”
Harry props himself up slightly to look at her properly.
“And she’s…” Nora exhales shakily. “She’s such a beautiful little person, H.”
“She is.”
“She’s kind and funny and weird and so clever.”
“So sassy.”
“That comes from you.”
Harry nods immediately. “Guilty as charged.”
Nora laughs softly before her face settles into something more vulnerable again. “Thanks for raising her with me,” she says quietly.
Harry stills slightly. “What?”
“I mean it.” Her fingers trace lightly along the back of his neck. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
Something flickers across his face then. Something warm and almost shy. He leans down and kisses her slowly. “No one else I’d want to raise these crazy kooks with,” he murmurs against her mouth.
Nora giggles softly. “Crazy kooks?”
“Look at our children,” he says. “One thinks she’s a dragon princess and the other roars at fruit.”
“Good observation.”
Harry kisses her again. Then once more.
And for a while they just stay there tangled together on the couch while sunlight stretches across the living room floor and their daughter hums to herself outside in the garden with the dog.
Their first baby. Their Remy. Their bug.
──────────────
The waiting room smells faintly like peppermint tea and old books. Nora notices it every single time she comes here.
It’s strange, the little things your brain clings to in places where you’re asked to peel yourself open a bit. The lamp in the corner with the crooked shade. The rain tapping softly against the windows today. The stack of parenting magazines that nobody ever actually reads. The tiny ceramic bowl of wrapped sweets sitting untouched beside the tissues.
She’s early. Not intentionally — she’d actually left the house flustered because Remy couldn’t find her dance bag and Leo had decided he hated socks — but somehow she’d still ended up here ten minutes before her session started.
Now she sits curled slightly into the corner of the couch, coat folded beside her, fingers wrapped around the paper cup of tea the receptionist made for her.
And for the first time in a long time, she doesn’t feel panicked about being here. Tired, maybe. Emotional. Exposed a little. But not panicked.
Several weeks ago, she’d walked into this office barely able to say the words “third baby” out loud without feeling like her chest was collapsing inward. Every thought had felt tangled up with fear and grief and guilt and memory. Like every possible future carried some hidden disaster waiting for her.
Now. Well... The fear is still there. But it’s sitting beside other things now too.
Hope. Excitement. Trust. Love.
When her therapist opens the door and smiles softly at her, Nora stands with a small exhale and follows her inside. Nora settles into her usual chair with her tea tucked between both hands.
Her therapist smiles gently. “How’ve you been since I saw you last?”
Nora lets out a breath through her nose, already smiling slightly. “Where do I start.”
“Just tell me the first thing that comes into your mind.”
Nora nods once, glancing down at the tea before looking back up. “I'm good, I think. Emotional. But… good.”
“Okay.” Her therapist settles back slightly. “Let's talk about good.”
Nora’s quiet for a second. “I talked to Harry. Really spoke with him.”
There’s no dramatic pause after it. No visible shock or huge emotional reaction. Just a simple sentence. But Nora feels the weight of it anyway. Because for months, maybe longer, she’d been circling this conversation like it was dangerous to touch directly.
“How did that feel?” her therapist asks gently.
Nora thinks about it honestly. “Scary.” Then she smiles faintly. “And also… kind of relieving? I think I’d built it up into this huge thing in my mind where if I said it out loud, it would become real immediately. Like if I admitted I wanted another baby then somehow it would need to happen tomorrow.”
Her therapist nods slowly. “And now?”
Nora exhales, leaning back slightly into the chair. “Now it just feels like… a conversation.” Her eyes sting unexpectedly and she laughs quietly at herself. “Which sounds ridiculous because obviously it is a conversation, but I think I forgot that. I think I’d turned it into this impossible thing in my head.”
“Why do you think that happened?”
Nora’s quiet for a moment longer this time.
“Because it mattered too much,” she says finally.
Her therapist watches her carefully. “You said on the phone when you booked these sessions again that you were frightened of what wanting another baby meant. Tell me where you think that fear came from.”
Nora lets out a long breath.
“I mean… obviously some of it is practical fear,” she says carefully. “I had postpartum depression after Leo. The pregnancy was rough and the birth itself was traumatic. Harry genuinely thought he was going to lose me.” Her fingers tighten slightly around the tea cup. “And then after all of that, we accidentally got pregnant and miscarried, and that…” She shakes her head slightly. “That knocked the wind out of both of us.”
Her therapist nods gently. “But?”
Nora gives a watery little smile. “But I think I kept reducing all of it down to just fear of pregnancy. Fear of loss. Fear of complications.” She looks down briefly. “And that’s part of it. Of course it is. But I think underneath all of that was this really horrible fear that maybe wanting another baby could… break us.”
Nora swallows thickly. “Harry’s my person,” she says softly, eyes suddenly glassy again. “He just is. And when things got bad before, when we weren’t communicating properly and we were both drowning in our own fear and grief… I think part of me started associating another baby with losing him emotionally. Or losing us.” She shakes her head quickly. “Not literally. Not divorce or anything dramatic. Just… disconnect. Loneliness. Feeling far away from each other.”
“And that frightened you.”
“Terrified me.”
Her therapist lets the silence sit for a second before asking gently, “Do you still believe that?”
Nora surprises herself with how quickly she answers. “No.”
The word lands firmly between them. And Nora blinks slightly afterward because—
Oh. That’s new.
Her therapist notices too. “No?”
Nora shakes her head slowly. “No. I think…” She exhales softly. “I think Leo getting sick changed something for me.”
“Tell me about that and your thought process.”
Nora leans back further into the chair, staring briefly toward the window as she gathers the feeling properly.
“It was horrible,” she says honestly. “Seeing him like that. Hearing him cry like that. Watching Harry panic.” Her face softens immediately at the thought. “And there was this moment in hospital where I realised… there are always going to be scary things.”
Her therapist stays quiet.
“There’s no version of motherhood without risk,” Nora says quietly now. “Not really. Even once they’re born. Even once they’re healthy. They grow up and the world still exists around them.” She gives a small laugh through her nose. “I mean, I sat in a hospital chair all night holding my son while he vomited into towels and I was exhausted and terrified and somehow…” She pauses, eyes suddenly shining again. “Somehow I also felt really calm.”
“Calm?”
“Not happy,” Nora clarifies immediately. “Obviously not happy. But capable.” Her voice grows steadier as she says it. “I knew what to do. I knew how to comfort him. I knew how to keep Remy calm. I knew Harry needed grounding too.” Her throat tightens slightly. “And I think for the first time in a really long time I stopped seeing myself as someone barely surviving motherhood.”
The therapist’s expression softens almost imperceptibly.
Nora laughs weakly. “That sounds awful.”
“It sounds honest.”
“I think after postpartum depression… even after I got help and medication and support and all of that… some part of me still quietly believed I’d failed a little bit.” Her eyes drop to her lap. “Not logically. I would never say that to another mother. But internally? I think I carried around this feeling that maybe I wasn’t built for this the way other women were.”
“Oh, Nora,” her therapist says softly.
“And then Leo got sick and I just…” Nora shakes her head, smiling through sudden tears now. “I held that shit down.”
Her therapist smiles too then, warm and encouraging. “Yes. You did.”
Nora laughs wetly, wiping beneath one eye. “I did. I was exhausted and gross and scared and still somehow managed to hold everyone together.” She looks up finally. “And I think that changed something in me.”
“How?”
Nora’s answer comes slowly. “I stopped viewing fear as proof I couldn’t handle something.”
Her therapist lets her sit in that for a moment before asking gently, “So where does that leave you now?”
Nora’s smile this time is small but real.
“I think I’m ready.”
“Ready for?”
“To stop talking about another baby like it’s radioactive.”
Her therapist smiles softly. “That sounds significant.”
“And what about the scary feelings? Where do they fit now?”
Nora’s thoughtful for a moment.
“They’re still there,” she admits honestly. “I still don’t want another miscarriage. I still don’t want another traumatic birth. I still don’t want to lose myself mentally again.” Her fingers tap lightly against the paper cup. “But now it feels more like… okay. Those things are possible. And if they happen, Harry and I know how to ask for help. We know how to communicate better. We know what support looks like now.” Her face softens again. “We’re not the same people we were before.”
“And that matters.”
“Yeah.” Nora nods. “It really matters.”
The conversation stretches after that. Deeper. Slower. They talk about postpartum anxiety. About identity. About the difference between preparedness and control. About how love can sometimes make people mistake vulnerability for danger. And near the end of the session, her therapist leans forward slightly.
“Nora, this is our last session. But I have some homework for you,” she says gently, “it's to keep practicing letting Harry into the scary parts before you feel fully prepared.”
Her therapist laughs quietly. “You spend a lot of energy trying to organise your feelings before sharing them.”
“Because otherwise they come out weird.”
“Maybe.” She tilts her head slightly. “Or maybe you’re allowed to be unfinished around your husband.”
Nora felt those words. Deeply.
“When you picture another baby now… what feeling comes first?”
Nora pauses with her coat half on. And smiles before she can stop herself. “…love,” she says quietly.
When Nora gets home later that afternoon, the house smells like garlic and toasted bread. Which immediately tells her Harry’s either cooking properly… or tried to. She drops her bag quietly by the hallway table just as Remy barrels toward her in socks.
“MUMMY!”
Nora barely has time to brace before Remy launches into her stomach full force. Nora laughs breathlessly, catching her automatically.
“Woah, bug.”
“You were gone for like one hundred years.”
“It was two hour.s”
“Same thing.”
Nora kisses the top of her head immediately. “Where’s your brother?”
“Being evil.”
“Right.”
“And Daddy made garlic bread but he burned one side.”
From the kitchen Harry yells, “It’s rustic!”
Nora snorts laughing instantly. She walks into the kitchen with Remy and finds Harry standing at the stove, wooden spoon in hand while Leo sits in his highchair eating cucumber slices with intense concentration.
Leo spots her first. “Mumma!”
“Hi my little lion.” Nora leans down to kiss his forehead. “You behaving?”
“No.”
“You don't even know what that word means.”
Harry turns toward her then, reading her face immediately in the way only he really can. “How was it?” he asks softly.
Nora exhales slowly. “A lot.”
His expression softens instantly. “Good lot or bad lot?”
She thinks about it honestly. “Both.”
Harry nods once like he understands exactly what she means.
Remy suddenly interrupts loudly, “Daddy burned the bread.”
“You don't need to keep saying it.”
Nora laughs tiredly and finally sets Remy down. Harry moves toward her almost immediately after, one hand settling at her waist while the other brushes lightly along her cheek.
“You alright?” he asks quietly.
Nora nods once. “Yeah.”
And she means it.
──────────────
The villa always sounded different in the evenings.
During the day it was loud in the best ways — Remy running barefoot through the hallways like she owned the entire Italian countryside, Leo babbling at birds through open windows, Anne laughing somewhere near the pool while Harry inevitably pretended he wasn’t being bullied by his own children.
But in the evenings, once the heat softened and the cicadas got louder, the whole place settled into something slower. Golden. Warm light through linen curtains. The smell of olive trees drifting through open doors. Distant chatter from neighbouring villas somewhere down the hill.
It felt suspended from real life a little. And maybe that was why Harry had insisted they come here. Not because things were bad. But because things were finally… good again. Steady. Hopeful.
He’d taken the walk down into the little village just before sunset, promising to grab wine and something sweet if the bakery’s still open, while Anne and Darren had bundled the kids out for ice cream near the marina. Remy had loudly announced she was getting “whatever flavour looked the most birthday-ish,” despite her birthday having already passed, and Leo had screamed “LELLO!” at a lemon gelato sign for a full five minutes.
Now Harry was climbing the stone steps back up toward the villa with a paper bag tucked under one arm and a bottle of wine dangling from his fingers.
“Nora?” he called as he stepped inside. “You would not believe the argument I just had with that old man at the shop. He tried to tell me this wine tastes like—”
He stopped in the kitchen. Empty.
There was music playing softly somewhere upstairs. One of Nora’s playlists. Something low and jazzy drifting through the house.
Harry smiled faintly to himself. “Baby?”
Nothing. He set the wine down on the counter and started up the stairs, still talking casually. “Also, your daughter apparently convinced an eighty-year-old woman she should get two scoops for free because she's five years old.”
Still no answer. The bedroom door upstairs was half open. Harry pushed it open fully and stopped dead.
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ.”
Nora burst into laughter immediately.
She was sitting right in the middle of the bed, knees tucked under herself, sunlight catching against bare skin and soft fabric and gold jewellery. The set she wore was tiny. Cream coloured. Delicate lace against warm skin. Her hair loose around her shoulders like she’d intentionally made herself look completely unfair.
Harry genuinely looked winded. One hand went flat against the doorframe.
“Fuck me,” he breathed.
Nora bit back a grin. “Well,” she said sweetly, “that’s sort of the plan.”
Harry let out a disbelieving laugh, shutting the door behind him slowly without taking his eyes off her once. “You’ve just taken ten years off my life.”
“Oh, stop being dramatic.”
“I’m serious.” He dragged a hand down his face, eyes shamelessly roaming over her again. “Baby, you look— fuck.” He shook his head slightly. “You look gorgeous.”
And suddenly Nora, despite orchestrating this entire thing, looked a little shy under the weight of his attention.
Her fingers fiddled lightly with the edge of the sheet beneath her. “Yeah?”
Harry stared at her like the answer was obvious. “Yeah.”
There was a beat where neither of them spoke. Just the music drifting softly through the room. Then Harry started walking toward the bed slowly, like he wasn’t entirely convinced she was real.
“You did all this while I was buying wine?” he asked.
Nora laughed softly. “Mhm.”
“That’s evil.”
“You love it.”
“I do love it,” he admitted immediately.
By the time he reached the bed, his hands were already finding her — sliding along her thighs, settling at her waist, fingertips warm against her skin. Nora tilted her head up toward him instinctively, and he kissed her once, slowly. Then again. And again, deeper this time.
“You’re unbelievable,” he murmured against her mouth.
Nora smiled softly into the kiss before pulling back just enough to look at him properly. “I was thinking…” Her voice got quieter suddenly. More vulnerable beneath the teasing. “With Anne and Darren out with the kids…”
Harry’s expression softened immediately. “Nora—”
“No pressure,” she said quickly, almost tripping over the words now that she’d actually started. “I just thought maybe we could… stop overthinking everything quite so much.” She looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again. “And maybe stop using condoms and just… let things happen when they happen.”
Harry stared at her for a second. And because he was Harry, because tension always made him flirt when his feelings got too big too quickly, he smiled crookedly and said softly, “Baby, you cannot say that to me while looking like this.”
Nora immediately groaned. “Harry, I’m being serious.”
“I know.” He laughed softly, climbing properly onto the bed now and pushing her gently backward against the mattress. “I know, I’m sorry. I just— fuck, you’re beautiful.”
She laughed as he kissed her again, hands sliding up his arms, fingers catching the short curls at the nape of his neck. “I’m serious,” she murmured again quieter this time. “I don’t want it to feel clinical or pressured or scary anymore. I just…” Her nose brushed his softly. “I want us.”
That one hit him square in the chest. His expression changed instantly.
“Nora,” he said quietly.
And then he kissed her properly. The kind that shut the rest of the world out for a while. The kind that felt like years of loving each other. The kind built from raising babies together and surviving hard things and choosing each other over and over and over again.
Things got heated quickly after that. Because they always had this pull toward each other — even now, even after years and children and therapy and grief and healing and ordinary domestic life.
Especially now, maybe.
There was laughter tangled between kisses. Harry mumbling things into her skin that made her hide her face in his shoulder while laughing breathlessly. Nora dragging at his shirt impatiently while he grinned against her mouth.
At one point he kissed down her neck and she muttered, “You’re being very smug right now.”
“You started this.”
“I’m aware.”
“Good.”
And when things finally blurred into something softer and more private and intimate, it wasn’t frantic. It wasn’t desperate. It was knowing. Full of love.
Later, the room felt sleepy and warm and completely wrecked in the best possible way. Nora was half sprawled across Harry’s chest, hair messy now, skin warm from the lingering heat of the evening. Harry’s hands rested lazily against her back while he stared dramatically up at the ceiling.
“I think I’m gonna die,” he announced weakly.
Nora laughed instantly. “Stop it.”
“I’m serious.”
“You run marathons.”
“Yeah, apparently for this.” He gestured vaguely between them.
She snorted against his chest. “Well now you know your purpose.”
Harry looked down at her with a grin. “All this time I thought I was into running for mental health.”
“Nope.”
“Just stamina?”
“Exactly.”
He laughed properly then, chest shaking beneath her. Nora traced absent patterns against his shoulder for a moment before speaking quieter. “I just thought…” She swallowed slightly. “Maybe we could do this without pressure now. Without tracking things or overthinking or worrying every second.” Her eyes lifted to his. “If it happens, it happens.”
Harry’s face softened immediately again. And because he physically could not resist ruining tender moments with innuendo, he smirked slightly and murmured, “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll happen.”
Nora stared at him for one full second before bursting into horrified laughter. “Oh my God.”
“What?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“You love me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Then faintly from downstairs, “MUMMAAAA!”
Followed by Leo yelling something incomprehensible and Remy shrieking with laughter.
Harry closed his eyes immediately. “Ah. There they are.”
Nora laughed softly and pushed herself up reluctantly. “That was quick.”
“They can smell when we’re happy.”
“They can definitely smell when we’re alone.”
“Terrifying ability.”
They scrambled back into clothes quickly between laughter and stolen kisses and Harry dramatically complaining he was seriously vulnerable now. Nora was halfway toward the bedroom door when Harry caught her wrist gently and pulled her back toward him. The softness in his face nearly undid her completely.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
“Hi.”
“We’re doing this?”
Nora looked at him for a long second before nodding. “Yeah,” she said softly. “We’re doing this.”
Something emotional flickered across his face then. Relief. Excitement. Fear. Love. Probably all of it at once.
Nora smiled slightly. “You sure you want another baby with me?”
Harry looked personally offended by the question. “Are you joking?” he said immediately. “The first two are basically carbon copies of me. One of them has to look like you eventually.”
Nora burst out laughing and smacked his shoulder. “Shut up.”
“I’m serious!” He grinned, pulling her closer again. “Need to improve the odds.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You love me.”
“Again,” she sighed dramatically, “unfortunately.”
He kissed her hard enough to make her laugh into his mouth. Then softer. Slower. Forehead against hers.
“I love you,” he murmured quietly.
Nora’s expression softened instantly. “I love you too.”
Downstairs, Remy yelled again, “WHY IS NO ONE ANSWERING ME?”
Harry sighed toward the ceiling. “Right. Parent mode.”
Nora giggled and straightened his shirt slightly before opening the door. “Come on, daddy.”
He caught her hand before she got too far, tugging her back for one final quick kiss.
──────────────
The beach near the villa was never particularly busy in the afternoons.
Most people disappeared during the hottest part of the day, retreating back into shaded restaurants or cool houses with shutters pulled halfway closed, but Harry and Nora had always loved this time most. The sea looked brighter somehow when the sun sat high and lazy over the water, everything sparkling silver-blue beneath it.
Nora was already waist-deep in the ocean, drifting backwards through the water with her sunglasses pushed onto her head and salt drying against her shoulders. From where she floated, she could see Harry up on the rock walkway with the kids, carrying approximately eight thousand things. She smiled to herself watching him.
The oversized beach bag slung over one shoulder. Leo balanced on his hip in a little sunhat. Remy marching beside him with absolute authority despite being barefoot and tiny.
“Daddy,” Remy was saying very seriously as they approached the edge of the rocks, “I think today I should swim without my floaties.”
Harry looked down at her immediately. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“You think you can swim all the way to Mummy without them?”
Remy puffed herself up instantly. “I can definitely do it.”
Harry glanced toward her with a grin before crouching slightly to look Remy in the eye properly. “And this confidence is based on…?”
“I just know,” she replied firmly.
“Interesting.”
“It’s true.”
Harry laughed quietly. “Alright, let’s see.”
Immediately Leo started squirming on his hip. “Swim! Swim!”
“You wanna swim too, mate?” Harry asked.
“Swim swim swim!”
“Okay, okay,” Harry laughed. “First your floaty vest though.”
Nora floated closer as Harry wrestled Leo into the little floating vest while Remy bounced impatiently on hot rocks beside them.
“Careful,” Nora warned immediately as Remy edged too close to the water. “No running on the rocks, bug.”
“I knowwwww,” Remy groaned.
“You say that like I haven’t watched you fall over six times already today.”
“That was because the rocks moved.”
Harry barked out a laugh. “The rocks moved?”
“They did.”
“Mhm.”
“They’re silly..”
By the time Harry finally got Leo sorted, the little boy was already trying to launch himself directly into the sea. “Dadda GO.”
“Jesus,” Harry muttered affectionately. “You really are my child.”
Nora laughed as Harry stepped into the water with Leo balanced against his legs, immediately getting splashed in the face by tiny hands.
“Oh, alright then,” Harry spluttered. “Violence already?”
Leo shrieked with delighted laughter. Meanwhile Remy stood dramatically at the edge of the water, staring at Nora like she was preparing for the Olympics.
“Okay,” Harry said, pulling his phone out suddenly. “Wait there.”
“Why?”
“I’m filming this. Nanna will want to see this.”
Nora grinned as Harry held his phone up. “Alright, bug,” he called. “Swim to Mum.”
Remy took one enormous dramatic breath and launched herself into the water. It wasn’t graceful. There was a lot of splashing. Some questionable arm movements. One moment where she fully forgot what direction she was meant to be going. But she did it.
Nora met her halfway instinctively anyway, hands hovering nearby without touching, just in case. When Remy finally reached her she looked absolutely euphoric.
“I DID IT!”
“You did!” Nora laughed, scooping wet hair out of her face. “Look at you!”
Harry lowered the phone with a proud grin. “That was proper swimming too.”
“I know,” Remy said importantly.
“You know?”
“Yes.”
Harry laughed. “God, you’re cocky.”
“She gets it from you,” Nora called.
“Absolutely not.”
“Harry Edward Styles.”
He grinned sheepishly. “Alright maybe a little bit.”
The next hour passed in that dreamy kind of family chaos that always made Nora feel painfully aware of how lucky she was.
Remy spent most of it running in and out of the water at dangerous speeds despite repeated warnings.
“Remy!”
“I’m being careful!”
“You are sprinting!”
“I’m fine!”
“You’re gonna crack your head open!”
“I won’t!”
Harry floated nearby holding Leo against his chest while Leo continuously slapped the water with both hands like he was personally fighting the sea.
“Mummy!” Leo squealed happily every few seconds.
“I’m here, baby,” Nora laughed.
Then Leo splashed Harry directly in the mouth. Harry sputtered dramatically. “Mate!”
Leo screamed with laughter. Nora immediately joined in, splashing Harry too.
“That’s right, Leo,” she grinned. “Get Daddy.”
“Oh okay,” Harry said, wiping water from his face. “Mutiny.”
Leo slapped the water harder.
“TRAITOR,” Harry gasped.
Nora laughed so hard she nearly swallowed seawater.
Eventually the chaos settled slightly, Remy distracted collecting shells near the shallows while Harry drifted closer to Nora with Leo still resting happily against him.
For a moment it was just them floating there together beneath the afternoon sun.
Harry’s hand slid absentmindedly across Nora’s stomach under the water. “So,” he said casually, far too casually, “do you think yesterday did it?”
Nora stared at him. Then splashed him directly in the face. “You idiot.”
Harry laughed loudly while Leo immediately copied Nora and splashed him too. “Leo!”
“Get Daddy!” Nora encouraged. Leo cackled.
Harry shook water from his curls dramatically. “This family’s abusive.”
Nora smiled softly at him then, some quieter emotion slipping into her expression as she floated closer. “You know what this reminds me of?”
“What?”
“Sardinia.”
Harry’s face softened instantly.
“When I was pregnant with Rem.”
“Mhm.”
Nora smiled faintly to herself. “You kept putting sunscreen on my stomach every twenty minutes because you were convinced the baby would somehow get sunburnt.”
Harry looked offended. “That was responsible parenting.”
“That was insanity.”
“You loved it.”
“I did love it.”
He leaned forward and kissed her softly. Saltwater and sunscreen and familiarity. “It’ll happen again,” he murmured quietly against her mouth.
Nora looked at him for a second before nodding gently. “I know.”
And she did know now. That was the strange thing. It wasn't certainty or guarantees. Just trust. Trust in him. Trust in herself. Trust that whatever happened next, they’d survive it together.
“DADDY!”
They both turned immediately. Remy stood halfway up one of the flatter rocks near the edge of the walkway, looking suddenly much smaller than she had five minutes earlier.
“Can I jump to you?” she called.
Harry instinctively shifted into assessment mode immediately, eyes scanning the water depth, the rocks beneath her feet, the distance between them.
“Maybe,” he called carefully. “Stay still for me.”
Harry swam toward the rocks slowly, watching Remy's face shift from excitement to unease.
Remy’s brave face cracked a little. “I wanted to jump but now I think maybe I can’t.”
“Okay. That’s alright.”
“I’m scared.”
“That’s alright too.”
Nora rested one hand against the rock beside her. “You absolutely do not have to do it if you don’t want to.”
Remy frowned immediately. “No I do want to.”
Harry smiled slightly. “Okay. Then let’s talk about the scary bit.”
Remy looked down at the water nervously. “What if I do it wrong?”
“You probably will,” Harry said honestly.
Nora barked out a surprised laugh. “Harry!”
“What?” he grinned. “Nobody does things perfectly the first time.”
Remy considered this carefully. Harry rested his forearms against the rock beneath her. “Bug, being scared doesn’t always mean stop. Sometimes it just means your body’s trying to figure out if something matters.”
Remy blinked at him. Nora smiled softly because that was such a Harry explanation.
“You know when Daddy goes on stage and feels nervous?”
Remy nodded.
“And you know when you started dance class and you were scared before your first lesson?”
Another nod.
“That feeling doesn’t always mean don’t do the thing,” Harry said gently. “Sometimes it means the thing matters to you.”
Remy looked down at the water again.
Leo suddenly pointed dramatically at her. “Remy swim!”
Nora laughed softly. “See? Your brother believes in you.”
Remy bit her lip.
“You don’t have to,” Nora reminded her again gently.
Remy squared her shoulders immediately. “No. I can do it.”
Harry grinned instantly. “That’s my girl.”
Nora floated back slightly with Leo to give them space while Harry positioned himself directly below the rocks.
“Alright,” he called. “On three.”
Remy bounced nervously on her feet.
“One…”
“Daddy my heart’s going really fast.”
“That’s okay.”
“Two…”
“I’m still scared.”
“That’s okay too.”
“Three!”
Remy jumped. It wasn’t elegant. There was a lot of flailing. But Harry caught her immediately, both of them disappearing briefly beneath the water before resurfacing together. Remy burst into shrieking laughter instantly.
“I DID IT!”
“You did!” Harry laughed, holding her up.
Nora clapped dramatically while Leo cheered nonsense noises beside her.
Harry brushed wet hair out of Remy’s face. “Well?”
Remy grinned wildly. “My heart is going boom boom boom but it was FUN.”
Harry laughed so hard he nearly dropped her.
“That,” Nora smiled softly, floating toward them, “is usually how the best things feel.”
And for a moment, surrounded by sunlight and saltwater and laughter and tiny sticky hands grabbing at them both. Everything felt very, very good.
Hi I can’t find the Nora and Harry part you made about Nora struggling with Postpartum Depression? Jsut wondering if you’ve added it to your master list or if I’m going crazy ?? x
Hi! Yes, I forgot to add it to my masterlist!
I've added it here for you (and added it to the masterlist).
Warning: This story contains hospital settings and medical themes, including injury, blood, illness, and occasional references to death. It also explores workplace stress and complex family dynamics. Reader discretion advised.
Summary: Anne's wedding gives Harry and Isabela the space they've both been avoiding, forcing them to finally confront the hurt they caused each other and the feelings they've been quietly carrying for much longer than either wants to admit. As they find their way back to one another, Harry is also forced to face the complicated relationship he has with his father—and realise that the people who truly know him have always been proud of him.
Series Masterlist: Here
Masterlist: Here
Harry had forgotten what silence sounded like. Not actual silence, he didn't think that existed anymore, but the kind that came from being somewhere that wasn't a hospital. No monitor alarms. No overhead announcements. No trolley wheels rattling across polished floors. No pagers dragging someone away mid-conversation. Just countryside.
The Cotswolds rolled out beyond the windows in soft green waves, fields divided by ancient stone walls, sunlight catching on leaves that moved lazily in the breeze. The venue itself looked like something out of another century; honey-coloured stone buildings wrapped around carefully kept gardens, ivy climbing old walls, white flowers tucked into every corner. The ceremony barn sat just beyond the main house, all exposed timber beams and greenery hanging from the ceiling, warm even while empty. It felt impossible that people got married in places like this.
Harry stood for a moment in the corridor outside his room, one hand adjusting the cuff of his jacket before giving up on it entirely. He wasn't particularly good at weddings. Children's birthday parties, yes. Family consultations, absolutely. Explaining complex surgery to terrified parents at three in the morning? No problem.
Weddings were somehow worse. Particularly when the woman he'd invited was arriving separately. Particularly when they hadn't properly spoken in two weeks. Particularly when, according to the room assignments Anne had emailed months ago, they were supposed to be sharing a room tonight. That thought had been sitting somewhere in the back of his mind all morning like a loaded weapon.
He checked his phone again. No new messages. His last text exchange was simple and short.
Harry: Drive safe.
Isabela: Will do.
Which felt appropriately representative of where they currently stood as people.
Harry exhaled through his nose and knocked twice on Anne's door before pushing it open. The room immediately smelled like flowers and hairspray.
"Careful," one of Anne's friends said from somewhere near the mirror. "The bride is under construction."
Harry laughed softly. "Too late."
The room was busy in the way wedding mornings always seemed to be. Dresses hanging from wardrobe doors. Makeup bags spread across every available surface. Half-empty champagne glasses. Someone steaming fabric in the corner. Two bridesmaids were attempting to pin something into someone else's hair while simultaneously holding a conversation about table arrangements. And in the middle of it all sat Anne.
She looked up immediately. And smiled. The kind of smile that still made Harry feel about eight years old. "There he is."
Harry felt something soften in his chest immediately. "There she is."
Anne held her arms out. Harry crossed the room without hesitation, leaning down to hug her carefully.
"Careful," she laughed. "You'll wrinkle me."
"Terrifying."
"I'm serious."
"You look beautiful."
Anne's expression softened immediately. "Oh. Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"Make me emotional before I've even put the dress on."
"Sorry."
One of the bridesmaids immediately pointed at him. "You're her favourite."
"I know."
"Harry."
"What?" he asked innocently.
Anne rolled her eyes, though she was smiling. "Ignore him."
"Impossible."
Eventually the room settled slightly around them. The bridesmaids disappeared into an adjoining room to investigate a missing bouquet, leaving Harry and Anne alone for a moment while someone adjusted the back of her hair. Harry leaned against the dressing table. For a second, neither of them spoke. Just looked at each other.
It was strange. Not because she was getting married. Because she looked happy. Genuinely happy. Content in a way he hadn't seen for a long time. Anne caught him staring.
"What?"
Harry shook his head slightly. "Nothing."
"Liar."
"Just..." He looked around the room. "It's weird."
"Weird?"
"You getting married."
Anne laughed softly. "Thank you very much."
"You know what I mean."
"I do."
Harry looked down briefly before meeting her eyes again. "I really like David." The words came out more serious than he'd intended. Anne's expression shifted immediately. "I do," Harry continued. "He's a good guy, Mum."
She stared at him for a second. Then reached over and squeezed his hand. "Thank you, my love."
The simple sincerity of it landed somewhere deep. Harry swallowed because he meant it. David wasn't trying to be his father or trying to replace anymore. He just loved Anne. And maybe that was enough.
"He's lucky," Harry said quietly.
Anne's eyes immediately glistened. "Oh, stop."
"What?"
"You know exactly what you're doing."
"I don't."
"You do."
Harry laughed. Anne pointed at his jacket. "Speech?"
Harry instinctively touched the inside pocket where the folded pages sat. "Speech."
"I'm excited."
"You shouldn't be. It could be terrible."
"It won't be."
Harry huffed quietly. Anne smiled. Then, after a moment, "You've always shown up." Harry looked at her. She continued softly. "I know you're busy. I know the hospital owns most of your life."
Harry's throat tightened slightly. "Mum."
"No, let me say it."
He stayed quiet.
"You never make me wonder."
That almost undid him. Because hospitals took everything. Time. Sleep. Birthdays. Christmases. Relationships. Entire weekends disappeared into emergency surgeries and on-call rotas. And still for her, he tried. Always. Harry crouched beside her chair slightly, taking her hand.
"I'm always there for you." The words came out immediately. Without thought. Without hesitation.
Anne's eyes softened. "I know. I love you."
Harry smiled. "I love you too, Mum."
Neither of them looked away. Eventually Anne squeezed his hand once more before releasing it. Then her eyes narrowed slightly.
"Oh. Where's Isabela?"
Harry closed his eyes briefly. Anne had managed nearly ten whole minutes. A personal best.
"She should be here soon. She got stuck at the hospital. There was a trauma before she left."
Anne nodded like that made perfect sense. Only medical professionals would attend a wedding after spending the morning covered in someone else's blood.
"She's driving up?"
"Yeah."
"Alone?"
"Yes, Mum."
Anne studied him carefully. Too carefully. "You're worried."
"I'm not worried."
"You've checked your phone three times while you've been in this room with me."
Harry looked down at his phone. Which was unfortunately still in his hand. "Right."
Anne smiled. "Harry."
He groaned immediately. "No."
"You like her." He stared at her. Anne stared back. Completely unbothered.
Eventually Harry pointed at her. "You're getting married."
"Yes. I can multitask." Then her expression softened again. Just a little. "You deserve someone who sees you outside the hospital."
The words landed harder than Harry expected. Because for a second he thought about Isabela in the corridor outside ICU. Thought about her telling him she still meant what she'd said. Thought about how she'd defended patients. Nurses. Parents. Junior doctors. Everyone.
Thought about how she had somehow become woven into his life so gradually he hadn't noticed it happening until she wasn't speaking to him anymore.
Harry looked away first. Which was answer enough. Anne smiled. Then there was a knock at the door.
One of the bridesmaids poked her head in. "Anne, we need you."
"Already?"
"We're on a schedule."
Anne groaned dramatically. "The tyranny of weddings."
Harry laughed. The bridesmaid pointed at him. "You. Out."
Harry pushed himself upright. Then leaned down one last time, kissing the top of Anne's head. She squeezed his hand briefly.
"I'll see you at the beginning of the aisle."
"You will."
As he reached the door, Anne called after him. "Harry?"
He looked back and she smiled. "Go check your phone."
Harry rolled his eyes. But the second he stepped into the corridor he did. And there, waiting on the screen:
Isabela: Just parked. Can you come get me? This place is too fancy for me to be wandering around alone.
Five minutes after reading her text, Harry found himself walking down the gravel path that wound away from the main buildings toward what the venue insisted on calling "guest parking."
Parking was a generous description. The Cotswolds seemed fundamentally opposed to anything as mundane as a car park. Instead there were rolling fields, ancient trees, low stone walls that looked older than most countries, and a long gravel drive that disappeared into greenery. Late afternoon sunlight spilled across everything, turning the honey-coloured stone buildings golden. In the distance, guests were already beginning to gather on the lawns, glasses of champagne appearing as if by magic.
David had done well for himself. Harry had known that already, obviously. The man worked in private finance and seemed to understand investment portfolios in the same way Harry understood anatomy. But seeing all this made it real. Not extravagant. Not flashy. Just beautiful. The sort of wedding Anne would have spent years pretending she didn't care about before quietly saving photos of places exactly like this.
Harry smiled slightly at the thought. Then a silver rental car appeared around the bend. His stomach immediately betrayed him. Which was ridiculous. He was a thirty-two-year-old paediatric surgeon. He routinely informed parents their children needed emergency operations. He had once performed a bowel resection after being awake for twenty-three hours. And yet somehow watching a rental car was enough to make him nervous.
For a second nothing happened. Then the driver's door opened. Harry forgot whatever coherent thought he'd been having. Jesus Christ. The dress was dark red. It fit her perfectly. That was unfortunately the first thing his brain registered. Not in a crude way. Just... objectively and scientifically the dress fit her perfectly. Harry swallowed.
She stepped out of the car and closed the door behind her, soft curls falling over one shoulder as she adjusted the small bag hanging from her wrist. Her makeup was subtle enough that most people probably wouldn't notice it, but Harry had spent enough time looking at her face over the last year to immediately recognise the difference.
And because apparently the universe wasn't finished torturing him she smiled. A nervous smile because for the first time since Noah Bennett's admission, she looked unsure. Harry felt something tighten in his chest. Isabela spotted him standing near the gravel path and stopped.
For half a second they just looked at each other. The last two weeks hanging awkwardly between them. Everything unsaid. Everything unfinished. Then she started walking towards him and Harry discovered things could get worse.
Because she'd clearly used whatever perfume she normally reserved for events that didn't involve bodily fluids and cardiac monitors. Warm. Clean. Dangerous. He needed to stop noticing things. Immediately.
"Hi," she said.
Harry realised he'd forgotten how conversations worked. "Hi."
Brilliant. Excellent start. Years of education really paying off. Harry cleared his throat. "You look..." He paused because beautiful felt inadequate. Stunning felt like something Theo would say before being slapped. "You look amazing."
There. Adult. Professional-ish.
Isabela blinked once then smiled properly. And Harry had to physically stop himself from staring. "Thank you." The smile softened slightly. "You look amazing too."
Harry looked down automatically at his suit. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She tilted her head slightly. "You clean up well."
They stood there for another moment before Isabela shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Look..."
Harry immediately straightened. The word alone sounded serious. Isabela took a breath. "We said a lot of things. We've also dragged this out for an impressive amount of time."
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Because she wasn't wrong. Two weeks. Two highly intelligent adults. Zero progress.
Then she gestured vaguely at herself. The dress. The hair. The effort. "I didn't get dressed up like this for nothing."
Harry laughed properly this time. The sound surprised both of them. "There she is."
"What does that mean?"
"Nothing." Harry shook his head. And for a second it almost felt normal again.
Then Isabela's expression softened slightly. "We will talk about it." She held his gaze. "Just not tonight."
He nodded slowly. "Okay."
"Or while I'm here this weekend."
Harry looked at her for another second before nodding again. "Okay." And he meant it. No pushing. No apologising. No forcing a conversation she wasn't ready to have. Just one night. For Anne. For himself. For her.
Together they started walking toward the venue. The gravel path curved through landscaped gardens before opening onto the main lawn where guests were beginning to gather. A small jazz quartet played beneath a canopy of trees, the music carrying softly through the warm afternoon air. White flowers lined the ceremony chairs. Greenery draped across timber arches. Waiters moved quietly through groups of guests carrying champagne trays.
Simple. Elegant. Very Anne.
Isabela slowed slightly as they approached. "It's beautiful."
Harry looked around. Then toward the ceremony space. Then back at her. "Yeah."
It was. Though he wasn't entirely sure he was looking at the venue anymore.
The closer they got, the more familiar faces appeared. Family friends. Colleagues of David's. Extended relatives. And then Harry saw him. His dad. Already seated with his back straight. Perfect posture and immaculate suit. Looking exactly like a man attending a conference rather than his ex-wife's wedding.
Harry felt his stomach tighten immediately. The reaction was automatic. Instant. And because Isabela knew him far too well she noticed.
Harry looked away first. "Right. I should probably..." He gestured vaguely.
Helpful. Very articulate. Isabela waited.
"I need to go see if Mum needs anything. And then they'll probably want me nearby."
"Okay."
"And you'll be sitting by yourself for a bit."
"Harry."
"And if you need anything—"
"Harry."
"—there's staff everywhere and—"
"Harry."
He stopped. Isabela looked at him for a long moment then shook her head slightly. "Stop. I'll be fine. You focus on your mum."
He nodded.
"I'll be just fine."
Harry exhaled. "Okay." For a moment neither of them moved. Then Harry stepped backwards slightly. "Right." He turned and started walking, making it approximately ten steps.
"Harry."
He stopped immediately. Turned around. Isabela was still standing where he'd left her. The late afternoon sunlight catching in her hair. The dark red dress moving softly in the breeze. Her smile was small. "Thanks for inviting me."
Harry looked at her for a second. Then smiled back. "Thanks for coming."
For a moment she held his gaze and then nodded once.
And Harry turned back toward the ceremony, his mother's wedding waiting ahead of him, his father already seated among the guests, his speech folded neatly inside his jacket pocket.
──────────────
The music started softly. Piano and flute weaving together somewhere near the front of the barn, gentle enough that conversation faded rather than stopped. The venue itself had transformed in the last half hour. What had been an empty stone barn filled with wedding planners and florists now felt warm and alive, every wooden beam draped in greenery, white flowers tucked between candles that flickered despite the afternoon light spilling through the tall windows.
Harry stood beside his mother at the entrance, trying very hard not to think about the fifty people waiting inside. He was significantly better in operating theatres. Anne adjusted the front of her dress one final time before looking up at him.
"Stop fidgeting."
"I'm not fidgeting."
"You've adjusted your cufflinks six times."
Harry looked down.
"...seven." Anne laughed.
The sound settled something inside him. For a moment he just looked at her.
The dress suited her perfectly. The intricate lace caught the light whenever she moved, delicate beading stitched throughout that sparkled without being overwhelming. Her hair had been styled away from her face in soft curls, the side part making it look effortless despite the obvious amount of work that had gone into it.
She looked beautiful and it wasn't because she was a bride. It was because she looked happy. Genuinely, completely happy. The kind of happy Harry realised he hadn't seen on her face in years.
The coordinator appeared beside them. "Ready?"
Anne took a breath and then nodded. Harry offered his arm and the music swelled slightly. And together they stepped into the barn. The room immediately blurred into colours and faces. Family. Friends. Colleagues. People turning in their seats and smiling. Harry felt dozens of eyes land on them at once. Instinctively, his gaze swept the room. And found Isabela immediately.
She was seated beside his Aunt Margaret near the front, the dark red dress somehow even more striking beneath the soft golden light of the barn. For a second she was looking at Anne, smiling warmly as she walked down the aisle, before her eyes found his.
Something small shifted in her expression. A small movement in her lips. Something that made Harry's chest tighten unexpectedly. Then she smiled properly. And for one ridiculous second Harry forgot where he was. Forgot there were fifty people watching. Forgot he was escorting his mother to her wedding. Forgot everything except the fact that she was looking at him.
Anne squeezed his arm. Harry blinked.
Right. Wedding. Focus.
As they continued down the aisle his gaze drifted again. And landed on Desmond. His father sat three rows back on the opposite side. Watching. Not smiling and not frowning. Harry felt the familiar tightening immediately. The strange instinctive awareness that always came whenever his father was around. Thirty-two years old and somehow still capable of feeling seventeen in under a second.
Beside him, Anne's hand tightened slightly over his arm. Not because she'd seen Desmond because she'd felt Harry tense. Without looking at her, Harry lowered his voice. "I'm proud of you, Mum."
Anne turned towards him. The emotion on her face immediate. "Harry."
"I'm serious." His throat tightened slightly. "I know today isn't really about me, but..." He smiled softly. "I'm happy that you're happy."
For a moment Anne looked dangerously close to crying. Then she laughed through it. "Don't make me emotional before I get there."
"You're the bride. You're allowed."
"I'm trying to look composed."
"You look beautiful."
Anne squeezed his arm again. Neither of them said anything after that. They didn't need to. The rest of the walk passed quietly. As they stopped in front of him, David's eyes never left Anne. Like he still couldn't quite believe she was there. Harry smiled then leaned down and kissed his mother gently on the cheek before pulling her into a careful hug. "I love you."
Anne's arms wrapped around him immediately. "I love you too."
When they separated, Harry extended his hand toward David. David ignored it completely and instead pulling him into a hug.
The ceremony itself was lovely. No dramatic readings. No endless speeches. Just two people promising each other things they had already spent years proving through actions.
Harry listened. Mostly. Though every now and then his attention drifted. Usually toward Isabela. Every time he looked, she seemed to be paying attention until she noticed him looking. Then her eyes would drop briefly before finding him again. And every single time, Harry felt sixteen years old.
The ceremony ended with applause and tears and Anne laughing halfway through her first kiss as a married woman. Harry intended to find Isabela immediately afterwards. Unfortunately weddings had other ideas. It was time for photos.
For the next forty minutes he was moved around the gardens like a particularly cooperative piece of furniture. Smile here. Stand there. Look at the camera. Look at your mother. Look at David. Look happy. Harry was beginning to think surgery involved less instruction.
The entire time he could see Isabela lingering near the edge of things. Not hiding. Just making space. Standing near one of the stone walls with a champagne flute someone had eventually forced into her hand. Talking briefly with guests when spoken to. Smiling politely. Watching. Every now and then Harry would glance over and she'd already be looking. It happened enough times that he eventually stopped pretending it was accidental.
Anne noticed first. Of course she did. The photographer was rearranging people again when Anne suddenly followed Harry's line of sight. Then smiled. "She is beautiful."
Harry answered before thinking. "Yeah."
Anne's eyebrows shot up. Harry froze. Shit.
His mother looked delighted. "Harry Styles."
"No."
Before he could stop her, Anne waved across the lawn. "Isabela!"
Isabela looked around briefly before realising she was being summoned. She approached a moment later, champagne still in hand. Anne immediately took both her hands. "Isabela. It's so nice to finally meet you!"
Harry made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Anne ignored him. Isabela laughed softly. "It's lovely to meet you too, Anne."
"Oh, look at you."
Harry closed his eyes again. "Mum."
"What?" Anne asked innocently. "Harry said you were beautiful but honestly I don't think that's enough."
"Please stop talking."
David decided to join the conversation and Isabela was laughing now. Actually laughing. The sound immediately worth every second of humiliation. "It's lovely to meet both of you," she said. "And Anne, you look amazing. Thank you for having me here."
Anne squeezed her hands. "Oh, sweetheart, thank you for coming. Honestly, it's my special day and I still feel like yelling at Harry for keeping you from me. We have to meet when I'm next in London."
"Can we maybe not organise future social events during your wedding, Mum?"
David laughed outright. "I think that's reasonable."
"I disagree," Anne said.
The photographer suddenly pointed toward them. Oh, perfect. Harry immediately knew where this was going. Anne turned toward the photographer. "Can we get one together?"
"Mum."
"You, me and Harry."
Isabela blinked. "Oh, I don't—"
"Please, it's my wedding day."
Guilt tripping. Good one, Mum. Five minutes later Harry somehow found himself standing between his mother and Isabela while the photographer took approximately forty-seven photographs. At some point David joined. Then David and Anne insisted on one with all four of them. Then another. Then another because Anne blinked. By the time they were finally released, the reception guests were already beginning to drift toward the main hall.
Anne kissed Harry's cheek before turning toward Isabela. "They're finishing up with a few more photos but you two go get champagne and get seated."
"Twist my arm," Harry muttered.
Anne ignored him. Again. "I can't wait to chat more at dinner. It's so lovely finally meeting you."
"It's lovely meeting you too," Isabela said warmly.
Anne beamed. Then allowed herself to be dragged away for more photographs. Beside him, Isabela stepped closer. Then, without thinking about it, slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. Together they started toward the reception, champagne waiting somewhere ahead of them, the late afternoon sunlight spilling across the gardens.
──────────────
By the time dinner finished, the sun had started its slow descent behind the hills surrounding the venue. The reception hall had softened with the evening, the golden light that had poured through the windows earlier giving way to candlelight and the warm glow of hanging bulbs woven through greenery overhead. The room felt different now. Looser. Comfortable. The formalities of the ceremony had melted away beneath good food, good wine and the steady hum of conversation.
Harry had spent most of the meal being intercepted by relatives he hadn't seen in years. Second cousins. Family friends. People who still somehow remembered him as a teenager. Every conversation seemed to start the same way.
You've grown up.
Your mum is so proud of you.
How's the hospital?
The hospital. Always the hospital. As if that was the easiest way to understand him. The safest.
The speeches were announced just as coffee began arriving at tables. A murmur rolled through the room as people adjusted in their chairs and turned their attention toward the small stage set near the dance floor.
David's best man went first. Harry listened. Mostly.
The man was funny, genuinely funny, which was unfortunately making Harry's growing nerves significantly worse. The room was laughing every few minutes and David looked increasingly horrified with every story being shared.
Harry's own speech sat folded beside his wine glass. Waiting. Mocking him. He had rewritten it three times. Okay, four times. Then once more at two in the morning after a shift three days ago. Now he wasn't entirely convinced any of it made sense.
Beside him, Isabela took a sip of wine. "You look like you're preparing for surgery."
Harry didn't look away from the speech. "I'd rather be in surgery."
Harry finally glanced over. She looked annoyingly calm. Completely relaxed in her chair, one elbow resting lightly against the table, the dark red dress somehow even more distracting in candlelight than it had been earlier. "People are expecting this to be good."
"They're expecting you to talk about your mum."
"Exactly."
She set her glass down. "You love her."
"Obviously."
"Then just talk about that."
Harry looked back at the speech. "That's oversimplified."
"It's really not."
The best man finished to applause. Harry felt his stomach immediately tighten. The next speech was his. Wonderful.
Beside him, Isabela noticed immediately. "You'll do fine. Although, if it goes badly..." Harry looked at her. "...you'll just have to spend the rest of your life knowing you ruined your mum's wedding."
For a second he simply stared. Then a laugh escaped him before he could stop it. Sudden enough that he had to cover his mouth. Across the table, Isabela's own smile widened before she looked down at her wine, clearly pleased with herself. Harry shook his head. "You're awful."
"I know."
"That wasn't reassuring. Not even slightly."
She looked up again. This time her expression softened. "You'll be great, Harry."
The microphone squealed lightly as somebody adjusted it. Then his name was called and suddenly there was no avoiding it. Harry stood as he took the pages, walking toward the stage. He immediately wished he hadn't looked at the room. Too many people.
The first few seconds were awkward. Painfully awkward. Harry cleared his throat. "Right."
A few people laughed immediately. Good start.
"I had a speech prepared. Which probably isn't what you're supposed to say at the beginning of a speech."
Hlooked down briefly before looking back up. And found his mother watching him. Everything else seemed to fade slightly after that. Because suddenly it wasn't about giving a speech. It was about her.
"My mum has spent most of my life making things look easier than they actually are. When I was younger, I genuinely believed she knew how to fix everything. Which is probably why becoming a doctor was disappointing."
A laugh rolled through the room. Even Anne laughed.
"I spent years training and eventually realised most problems don't have neat solutions. People are complicated. Relationships are complicated. Life is complicated."
His gaze drifted briefly without meaning to. Toward Isabela. She was already looking at him. The same way she always looked at patients when she was really listening. Harry swallowed slightly then continued. "But my mum taught me something long before medicine ever did. That showing up matters."
The room was completely quiet now. "Not because you have all the answers. Not because you can fix everything. Just because you're there."
Anne's eyes immediately glistened. Harry smiled softly. "You've spent your whole life showing up for the people you love. And somehow David was smart enough to realise how lucky that makes him."
David laughed and the room followed. Harry found his rhythm after that. Stories. Memories. Small jokes. Enough laughter to keep things light. Enough honesty to keep it real. Speaking from the heart.
"Love isn't grand gestures most of the time. It's consistency."
His gaze drifted again. Toward Isabela.
"It's choosing someone every day. It's staying."
Something shifted in his chest. A realisation arriving slightly too late. He suddenly recognised where some of those thoughts had come from. Isabela.
The way she'd sat beside dying patients. The way she'd shown up for Noah. The way she'd still come this weekend despite everything.
Harry looked away before he could think too hard about it and then finished. "I hope the next chapter of your lives is full of happiness, patience and just enough chaos to keep things interesting. I love you both."
The applause arrived immediately. And before Harry could even leave the stage, Anne was already standing. By the time he stepped down she had both arms around him.
"Oh, my darling."
Harry laughed softly. "Mum."
"It was beautiful."
"It was alright."
"It was beautiful. Thank you."
David appeared beside them. "It was."
The party resumed after that. Music replaced speeches. The dance floor slowly filled. The sky outside darkened completely. And for the first time all day Harry found himself standing off to one side with a drink in hand, watching rather than participating.
Anne was dancing. David beside her. A collection of family members joining and leaving every song. At one point Anne somehow acquired Isabela even though Harry wasn't entirely sure how. One minute Isabela was speaking to his aunt and the next she was laughing as Anne pulled her onto the dance floor.
Harry smiled despite himself. From a distance she looked lighter than she had in weeks. Like she'd finally stopped carrying the hospital around with her.
"Good speech."
Harry didn't need to turn. His shoulders had already tightened.
Desmond. Dad.
Harry looked over. His father stood beside him holding a glass of whisky. "Thanks."
Desmond nodded. "You've become comfortable speaking publicly."
It sounded like a compliment but somehow it didn't feel like one. Harry took a sip of his drink. "Occupational hazard."
"I suppose. I heard Bennett was discharged."
There it was. Work. Always work. Harry looked toward the dance floor. "I heard that too."
"The consultant was impressed."
Harry said nothing which mean Desmond continued. "You managed the case well. Though naturally having senior support available helped."
Harry felt something inside him immediately shrink, the way it always did. Like a reflex. Desmond wasn't being cruel. He never was. He simply had a talent for turning every achievement into something provisional.
"Right."
"The judgement was sound but experience matters in those situations."
Harry looked down at his glass. "Okay."
Across the dance floor Anne was laughing as David spun her. Someone cheered. Meanwhile Harry felt like a teenager again. Not a consultant surgeon. Just a son trying very hard to earn approval that kept moving further away.
"What?" Desmond asked.
Harry realised he'd gone quiet. "I'm listening."
"You don't seem convinced."
Harry laughed softly but there was no humour in it. "Can we not do this tonight?"
"Do what?" Desmond frowned slightly. "I'm trying to acknowledge that you handled it well."
"I know."
"Then why—"
"Because every compliment comes with a correction."
And you don't know me outside of work. The words slipped out before Harry could stop them. Silence followed and it was uncomfortable.
"I don't mean it that way."
"I know." Harry meant that too which somehow made it worse.
The music continued behind them. People laughed. The wedding carried on. And Harry felt himself retreating further into himself with every passing second.
Neither man noticed someone had stopped dancing. Neither noticed Isabela standing nearby. Neither noticed her watching. Watching Harry become quieter. Watching him accept things he shouldn't have to accept. Watching a conversation that sounded polite to anyone else and somehow left him diminished anyway.
She stepped forward before she could stop herself. "Actually."
Both men turned. Harry blinked. "Bel?"
Isabela ignored him entirely because her attention remained on Desmond. "Professor Styles."
Desmond nodded politely. "Doctor Sinclair."
"I think it's important to point out that the consultant agreed with Harry's original management plan."
Desmond's eyebrows lifted slightly. "I'm aware."
"Good." Her smile was polite. "Then I think it's worth saying the credit belongs to him."
Desmond studied her carefully. "And I wasn't suggesting otherwise."
"No," Isabela agreed calmly. "But somehow we keep arriving at the same implication."
Harry stared. Desmond stared. Meanwhile Isabela continued. "The Bennett case went the way it did because Harry made the correct call under pressure."
Her voice never rose or sharpened. "I know because I was the one arguing with him." A beat. "I was wrong and that doesn't happen often. Unfortunately for me."
Desmond remained silent. For once. Isabela finally looked toward Harry. The expression on her face softening immediately. Not pity. Just understanding because she saw him completely. She had always seen him completely.
"Harry."
His throat felt strangely tight. "Yeah?"
She held out her hand. "Let's go dance."
Harry looked at her hand, her, then finally back at his father. Desmond was still watching. Still trying to understand but still somehow missing the point. Harry took her hand and followed her without another word.
Instead of heading toward the music, however, Isabela veered toward the bar. Harry frowned. "That's not the dance floor."
Without breaking stride, she reached across the counter and plucked an already-open bottle of red wine from beside a startled bartender.
"Bel."
She glanced over her shoulder. "What?"
"I thought we were dancing."
"We can still dance. I just thought air might be better."
Harry followed her outside before he could really think about it. The evening had cooled considerably since the ceremony. The heat of the day had faded into something softer, the countryside stretching out around them in rolling shadows and silver moonlight. Somewhere in the distance crickets chirped lazily, and beyond the gardens the dark outline of the hills sat quietly beneath a sky scattered with stars.
A stone path wound away from the main building toward a small pond bordered by reeds and low lanterns. A fountain sat in the centre, the steady sound of water somehow making everything feel calmer. The reception noise faded with every step.
By the time they reached the pond, it felt like they had stepped into another world entirely. Neither of them spoke immediately. Isabela settled onto the low stone edge first, tucking one leg beneath herself as she unscrewed the bottle. She took a small sip before handing it over. Harry accepted it.
For a while they sat in comfortable silence, watching the water ripple beneath the fountain lights. The last few weeks seemed impossibly far away out here. The hospital felt far away too. No pagers. No consults. No trauma calls. No fluorescent lighting. Just the two of them.
"I'm sorry you can't talk to your dad like a dad."
Harry looked down at the wine bottle turning slowly between his hands. The words landed more heavily than he expected because nobody ever really said it out loud. People danced around it. Made excuses for Desmond. Made excuses for Harry. He let out a small breath. "It's okay."
"No." The answer came immediately. Isabela was already shaking her head. "It's not."
"Is—"
"No." She pointed at him with the bottle. "I'm sorry. Accept it."
Despite everything, Harry laughed. "That's not how apologies work."
"It is tonight." She took another sip before looking back toward the venue. Warm light spilled from the windows across the lawn, music drifting faintly through the night air. "It was a beautiful wedding."
Harry followed her gaze. "Yeah."
"Your mum is beautiful."
A smile appeared immediately. "She'll be unbearable if she hears you say that."
"I already told her."
"God."
"It made her very happy."
They sat quietly again then Isabela nudged his shoulder lightly. "And now I understand why you are the way you are."
Harry blinked. "The way I am? That I'm fucked up?"
That earned the laugh he'd been hoping for. Warm and bright. "No, Harry." She turned toward him slightly. "You're like your mum."
The answer caught him off guard. Completely. "I am?"
"Yes." Her voice softened. "You care too much. You show up for people even when you're exhausted. You carry things that aren't yours to carry. You think nobody notices."
Harry looked down because suddenly looking at her felt difficult.
"You are not your dad."
The certainty in her voice left no room for argument. Then her expression shifted. "Though I will admit..."
"What?"
"If you get your dad's hairline, I don't know what we're going to do."
For a second he simply stared. Then the laugh escaped him before he could stop it. "Oh, fuck off."
She smiled. "Genetics are important."
"I hate you."
"No you don't."
Harry shook his head because unfortunately she was right. After taking a large sip from the bottle, Harry handed the bottle back. "Thank you for coming."
Isabela looked over. "You don't need to thank me."
The moonlight caught the edge of her face as she looked away toward the water. For a moment Harry thought she might leave it there. Instead she took a large breath. And when she spoke again, her voice was quieter. "Harry. I'm sorry."
The smile faded from his face immediately.
"I shouldn't have overridden your decision."
Harry stayed silent. Letting her continue.
"It wasn't because I thought you were wrong. And it wasn't because I didn't trust you. I saw Noah in pain and I made an emotional decision. Which is embarrassing because I almost never do that." A humourless laugh escaped her. "I wanted to fix it immediately."
Harry looked down. Thinking about Noah. Thinking about that night.
"I'm sorry it looked like I didn't trust you." Her eyes finally found his. The honesty there almost hurt. "I do. The most out of anyone. But..." She looked away again. "Your words hurt too."
"I know."
"No." Her voice cracked slightly. "It hurt because it came from you. It wouldn't have mattered if somebody else said it." A slight pause. "I mean..." She laughed weakly. "It's you. You mean a lot to me."
Harry closed his eyes briefly. The thing both of them had spent weeks dancing around. Importance. Connection. The knowledge that the other person's opinion mattered.
When he opened his eyes again, Isabela was still watching the water. Still pretending she hadn't just handed him her heart. Harry let out a slow breath. "I'm so sorry."
She looked at him finally. Harry held her gaze.
"It's not an excuse." His voice felt rougher now. More honest. "But having my dad around..." He shook his head. Trying to find the words. "He puts me on edge."
A small laugh escaped him. One without humour. "I know that's pathetic."
"It's not."
He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "As soon as you went above me, I felt that thing again."
"What thing?"
Harry looked down then back at her. "That somebody was telling me I wasn't good enough."
The words sat heavily between them.
"I know that's not what you were doing but I felt it anyway."
The honesty hurt but it also felt good. Like cleaning out a wound.
"I took all of that pressure and I aimed it at you." He shook his head. "I didn't mean what I said. Well..."
Isabela raised an eyebrow. Harry sighed. "You do like control but you're an incredible doctor." I think I was drawn to how talented you were before I was drawn to you as a person."
The words slipped out before he could stop them. Too honest. Too close. Harry swallowed. There had almost been something else there. Something he wasn't quite brave enough to say. Across from him, Isabela definitely noticed. The tiny hesitation.
Instead she smiled. "We're okay."
The relief that hit him was immediate. Then she reached across and squeezed his hand.
"And Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"You are an incredible surgeon."
Harry looked away immediately. The compliment still uncomfortable somehow.
"I mean it."
"I know."
"No." Her grip tightened slightly. "I mean it. And I think you weirdly have your dad's approval."
Harry barked out a laugh.
"That's optimistic."
"I'm serious." She held his gaze. "You don't need it though. You are a great man, Harry Styles. And an even better surgeon."
Harry opened his mouth. To say something. To argue. To thank her. He never got the chance because Isabela kissed him.
The world disappeared immediately. The pond. The fountain. The wedding. Everything.
Harry kissed her back before he even realised he was moving. One hand finding her waist instinctively. The other still tangled with hers. When they finally separated, both of them were smiling.
"Well."
"Well," Isabela agreed.
Harry looked at the wine bottle Then back at her. "The wine?"
"Not the wine."
"Right." Harry nodded seriously.
Then she kissed him again. This time neither pretended it was the wine. A sound behind them made them jump apart immediately.
Harry turned and Anne stood several feet away. Smiling. Far too much.
"Oh, for God's sake."
His mother looked delighted. "I came looking for my son."
"You found him."
"I certainly did." The grin somehow widened.
Isabela looked like she wanted the pond to swallow her whole. "Anne—"
"Oh don't worry, darling. I adore you."
"Mum."
"What?"
Harry rubbed both hands over his face. "Can you please say whatever you came here to say so this moment can end?"
Anne considered it. Then nodded. "I would like you to come dance with your mother. Please."
Harry stared. "That's it?"
"Yes."
"You interrupted us for that?"
"Yes."
Anne looked completely unashamed. Beside him, Isabela laughed. Traitor.
"Go."
Harry looked over. She was smiling again. Comfortable now. Happy.
"I was actually going to get my things from the car and put them in our room."
The words our room did unfortunate things to Harry's brain. "I'll come with you."
"No."
"Bel."
"I'll be fine." She squeezed his hand softly. "The reception staff will help me, I'm sure." Harry looked unconvinced. She squeezed again. "Go dance with the bride."
Eventually he sighed. "Fine."
She kissed his cheek. And started back toward the front of the venue. Harry watched her walk away. Completely helpless to stop himself.
Beside him, Anne made a noise. "Oh, I can't wait to spend all day with her tomorrow."
Harry closed his eyes. "Mum."
"What?"
"Please."
Anne looked delighted. "I know everything about the hospital." She linked her arm through his and started dragging him toward the reception. "She's new and shiny and adorable."
Harry groaned.
──────────────
The reception carried on around them for another hour or so, the dance floor slowly filling as the evening settled into that comfortable stage every good wedding eventually reached. The formalities were over. Jackets had been abandoned on chairs. Shoes had disappeared beneath tables. Somebody's uncle was attempting to convince a group of strangers that he could absolutely still dance like he was twenty-five.
Harry had lost track of how many songs he'd danced to with Anne. At least six. It felt like twelve. The exact number became difficult to calculate somewhere between his mother dragging him into a Motown classic and David insisting they all attempt something that involved considerably more coordination than any of them possessed.
By the time Isabela finally appeared at his elbow again, Harry was laughing at something one of his cousins had said and nursing a fresh glass of champagne. She touched his arm lightly. Enough to get his attention."
When he looked over, she smiled apologetically. "Hi. You having fun?"
Harry looked around the room. His mother was dancing. David was dancing. His uncoordinated uncle was dancing. At least three people had formed a questionable conga line.
"Objectively, yes."
"Good." Something about her expression made him narrow his eyes slightly.
"What?"
Isabela laughed softly. "I'm really sorry."
"That sounds ominous."
"No, nothing's wrong."
She shifted her weight slightly. Then lowered her voice. "I'm about ten minutes away from becoming one with the floor. I'm exhausted." The confession seemed to physically pain her. "I've been up since five."
"Bel."
She rubbed her eyes briefly. "I am so tired."
Harry looked at her properly then. And immediately saw it. The way her shoulders were starting to droop. The exhaustion she'd been successfully hiding for most of the evening. "You should've said something."
"I was having fun." Then she gestured vaguely toward the doors. "I think I'm going to head the room."
Harry immediately nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."
That caught her off guard. "What?"
"We'll head up."
"No."
Harry frowned. "No?"
"You should stay." She looked around the room. "Harry, this is your mum's wedding."
"So?"
"So stay."
"Bel."
She pointed toward the dance floor where Anne was currently attempting to teach David a routine she had clearly invented thirty seconds earlier. "You'll regret leaving."
Harry looked toward his mother. Then back at Isabela. Shrugging, he said, "I want to be with you."
The words came out before he really thought about them. Isabela stared a t him, completely off guard. Which was deeply satisfying after months of her doing that to him.
Harry smiled slowly. "Not the only one that can do that."
A laugh escaped her immediately. She shook her head. "You're very pleased with yourself."
"A little."
"Insufferable."
"Sometimes."
Eventually they found Anne and David near the bar. Anne immediately looked suspicious.
"We're heading up," Isabela explained.
Anne's expression softened immediately. "Oh sweetheart, of course. You've had the longest day."
Isabela leaned in and hugged her carefully. "Thank you for having me."
Anne squeezed her tightly. "It was wonderful having you here."
"Congratulations for the eleventh time."
Then David received a hug too. "Thank you." He smiled warmly. "And thank you for surviving Anne."
"David."
"What?"
"You're married now."
"I know."
"Behave."
"Sorry, Mrs. Anne Walker."
By the time they finally escaped, the music had started up again and the reception had settled back into its comfortable chaos. The walk to the rooms was quiet. The kind of silence that only happened when two people no longer felt the need to fill every gap with conversation. About halfway there, Isabela stopped abruptly. Harry turned. "What happened?"
Without a word, she bent down and removed one heel. Then the other. The relief on her face was immediate. Harry laughed.
"Don't."
"You've been suffering this entire time?"
"Yes."
"Voluntarily."
"They matched the dress."
Harry held out a hand. "Give them here."
She looked at him and then handed them over.
The image of Harry Styles, paediatric surgeon, carrying a pair of heels through a luxury wedding venue was not one either of them expected to find as funny as they did.
By the time they reached the room, both of them were smiling again. The room itself was softly lit, warm from the bedside lamps Anne had apparently insisted be left on. Someone had drawn the curtains while they were downstairs, leaving the space feeling private and quiet after the noise of the reception.
For a moment neither of them moved. Just stood there. Alone. Together. The reality of that settling slowly around them. Then Isabela cleared her throat. "I'm going to shower."
Harry nodded. "Good plan."
"Do you..." She looked strangely nervous.
Which immediately made Harry nervous. "Do I what?"
A laugh escaped her. Tiny. Embarrassed. "Never mind."
"Isabela."
She rolled her eyes. Then smiled. "Do you want to join me?"
Harry felt his heart do something profoundly unhelpful. "Yeah."
The smile she gave him in return was softer than anything that followed. What happened next felt less like urgency and more like relief. Weeks of tension finally gone. Weeks of distance disappearing. The easy familiarity that had existed before Noah, before the argument, before everything became complicated, finding its way back between them.
The shower ran. Time disappeared. The rest belonged to them.
Later, wrapped in hotel towels and considerably more relaxed than either of them had been in weeks, they found themselves in bed with the windows cracked open slightly, cool countryside air drifting through the room.
Harry was half asleep. Or close to it.
Isabela rested against his chest, one arm draped across his stomach while he absentmindedly traced patterns across her shoulder. The room was dark except for the bedside lamp. Quiet except for the occasional sound of music drifting faintly from somewhere below.
"I like you."
Harry laughed immediately. The sound vibrating beneath her cheek. "Well. I'd hope so after what just happened."
"Harry." She smacked his chest.
He grinned. She settled back against him again. The smile lingered for a few seconds before fading into something quieter. Something more thoughtful.
"You ever have those moments where something just..." She gestured vaguely. "...clicks?"
Harry looked down at her. "That's specific."
"You know what I mean."
She stared up at the ceiling. Searching for words. "I don't know how to explain it. Sometimes somebody just becomes important and you can't pinpoint when it happened."
Harry stayed quiet. Listening.
"It doesn't feel dramatic." Her voice softened. "It just... is." The room seemed very still suddenly. "I missed you."
The confession was almost hidden in the darkness. Harry's hand paused against her shoulder. "I missed you too. I had to deal with Theo."
"That's rough."
"Thank you."
"He kept trying to take me for coffee." Harry laughed.
"That's nice."
"No. It was the way he kept saying it."
Now Isabela was curious. "How was he saying it?"
He attempted an impression. "'Coffee date? Coffee mate?.'"
Isabela nearly choked laughing.
"Exactly."
They both dissolved into laughter. The kind that only existed when everything was finally okay again. Eventually it faded. Isabela reached up, moving a strand of hair away from Harry's forehead. For a second she looked like she wanted to say something else. Something important. Then her phone rang.
Harry looked toward the bedside table. She looked toward the bedside table. Then at the screen.
Mamá
Harry immediately smiled. "Answer it."
"It's midnight."
"Answer it."
She sighed. Then accepted the call.
"Hola, mamá."
"Sí, lo sé. Es tarde." (Yes, I know. It's late.)
Harry watched her face soften immediately. The way it always seemed to whenever she spoke to her mother.
"No, no te preocupes." (No, don't worry.)
Another pause. A smile.
"The wedding was beautiful."
She listened. Then laughed softly. "Yes. Anne was a very beautiful bride. You would have loved the dress. I will send a photo in the morning."
Harry closed his eyes briefly. Anne would be thrilled.
The conversation continued for another minute before María inevitably asked about Harry. He knew the moment it happened. Because Isabela immediately switched fully into Spanish and looked away. Coward.
"Sí, está aquí." (Yes, he's here.)
A pause. Then a longer one. Isabela's ears turned slightly pink.
Harry smiled. Interesting.
"Está bien, mamá." (It's okay, Mum.)
Another pause. He could hear her mum on the other end.
"Sí. Me hace feliz." (Yes. He makes me happy.)
Eventually the conversation wound down.
"Te llamo mañana." (I'll call you tomorrow.)
A pause.
"Te quiero también." (I love you too.)
The call ended. Then Isabela groaned.
Harry laughed. "What?"
She dropped her phone onto the mattress. "I think it's a mother thing. Being incredibly nosy."
Harry immediately barked out a laugh. "Yeah." He reached over, plugging her phone into the charger. "Just wait until tomorrow."
That earned a suspicious look. "What does that mean?"
"You'll see."
"Harry."
"My mum tonight was nothing."
The lights clicked off a moment later. The room settled into darkness. Beside him, Isabela shifted closer, tucking herself against his side as though she'd been sleeping there for years instead of one night. Harry wrapped an arm around her automatically.
Outside, the countryside sat quiet beneath the stars. Inside, for the first time in weeks, everything felt still. Before sleep finally caught up with them, Harry pressed a kiss against her forehead.
──────────────
The following morning arrived much earlier than either of them would have preferred.
Harry woke first, though only just. The room was filled with that soft morning light that seemed unique to countryside hotels, pale sunshine slipping through the gap in the curtains and stretching across the bed in warm stripes. For a few moments he simply lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the quiet sounds around him.
Birds outside. The occasional creak somewhere in the old building. Isabela breathing steadily beside him. That last one made him smile.
She was still asleep, curled toward him beneath the duvet, one arm trapped awkwardly beneath her pillow. Sometime during the night she'd stolen most of the blanket and nearly all of the available space on the mattress. Harry hadn't minded. Not even slightly.
Eventually, after a shower and considerably more coffee than any human being should reasonably consume before ten in the morning, they found themselves walking across the property toward the brunch Anne and David had organised for the bridal party.
The entire venue looked different in daylight. Yesterday it had felt romantic and elegant. This morning it felt peaceful. The gardens were impossibly green, sunlight catching on dew still lingering on the grass. Staff moved quietly between tables setting out coffee pots and pastries while the remaining wedding guests wandered about looking slightly hungover and extremely content.
Isabela looked annoyingly good for somebody who'd had less sleep than she should have. The butter yellow dress moved softly in the breeze as they crossed the lawn, simple sandals replacing the heels she'd abandoned the night before. Her hair was still loosely styled from the wedding, though now it looked more natural, softer somehow. She'd barely bothered with makeup, and Harry found himself staring long enough that she eventually caught him.
"What?"
He looked away immediately. "Nothing."
"Liar."
"I'm literally not doing anything."
"Harry."
He sighed. "You look nice."
The smile she gave him was immediate. "Mm. So do you."
Harry looked down at himself. Jeans. Loafers. Button-down shirt. A respectable attempt at looking like a functioning member of society. "I look tired."
"You always look tired."
"That's very true."
By the time they reached the brunch area, most people had already arrived. Three long tables had been pushed together beneath a shaded terrace overlooking the gardens. Coffee cups littered the tabletops. Somebody had already started on a second mimosa. David was deep in conversation with one of his friends while Anne appeared to be conducting three separate conversations at once.
The second she spotted them, her face lit up. "Oh good!"
Harry immediately recognised the tone. Danger.
Anne stood and pointed. "Isabela, come sit next to me."
Harry stopped walking. "What?"
Anne looked confused. "What?"
"What about me? No good morning. No hello. Just 'Isabela'?"
"Yes. Hello. Good Morning. I don't know." She waved vaguely toward David. "Go sit over there."
Harry looked offended. His own mother had replaced him in less than twenty-four hours. Beside him, Isabela was already laughing. "Why are you so scared of me being with your mum?"
"I'm not scared."
"You are."
"I'm not."
She nudged his arm. "I'll be fine. Go eat some pancakes."
Anne was already pulling out a chair. A laugh escaped her immediately.
Harry looked between the two of them. Then sighed dramatically. "Fantastic."
Neither felt remotely guilty. As he walked away, he heard Anne say, "Now tell me everything." And Harry immediately regretted leaving.
For nearly forty minutes, Isabela endured what could only be described as an extremely thorough yet pleasant interview. Anne asked questions the same way Harry approached complicated cases—carefully, methodically and with no intention of stopping until she had a complete picture.
"So Harry says you work in emergency medicine."
Isabela smiled. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Unfortunately?"
"I love it." She accepted a cup of coffee. "But it's chaos."
Anne laughed. "I suppose that's where Harry gets his preference for complicated things."
"Probably."
"What about your parents?" The question arrived gently. Isabela didn't hesitate. "My mum is a nurse. At the hospital I work at actually."
Anne's eyes immediately softened. "Oh really?"
"Yeah." A small smile appeared. "Most people there knew me before I was born."
Anne laughed. "I love that."
"She's retired now." A slight pause. "Sort of. She's been sick for the last couple of months. It's just, yeah, she's retired."
Anne nodded. Understanding immediately. "And your dad?"
The answer came with a small shrug. "He left when I was little." No bitterness. Just fact. "It's mostly been me and my mum."
Anne reached over and squeezed her hand gently. The gesture was so familiar it almost made Isabela laugh. Mothers. Apparently all the same.
"What's her name?"
"María."
Anne smiled. "Beautiful. Do you have Spanish heritage?"
"Yeah." Isabela nodded. "My mum is from Spain originally. Born and raised. My grandmother was from Chile."
"Oh that's lovely!"
For a while the conversation drifted elsewhere. Stories about childhood. School. Work. Travel. At some point Anne began talking about Harry.
"He was exactly the same when he was little."
Isabela smiled into her coffee. "Oh?"
"Oh yes." Anne nodded enthusiastically. "If he thought somebody was upset, he'd immediately make it his problem."
"That sounds familiar."
"Didn't matter if he could fix it or not." Anne laughed softly. "He used to bring home injured animals."
"Of course he did."
"Constantly."
Isabela could practically picture it. A small Harry showing up with a wounded bird tucked inside his coat. The image was entirely believable.
"His dad hated it."
The words slipped out before Anne could stop them. The mention of Desmond seemed to linger briefly between them. Isabela hesitated.
"Was he always like that?"
Anne understood immediately what she meant. The answer took a moment. "He wasn't cruel."
"No. Harry has never described him that way."
Anne looked out across the lawn. Towards where Harry sat with David. "He just never knew how to stop being a doctor. He analysed everything. Dissected situations. Even people."
Before Isabela could respond—
"Have you asked her every question from your notebook yet?"
Harry appeared beside the table carrying a fresh coffee.
Anne rolled her eyes. "Hush."
"I've been gone forty minutes."
"I'm getting to know her."
"I can tell."
Then Anne smiled. "Oh please. I'm just trying to get to know the woman you are in lo—"
"OKAY!"
Anne looked delighted. The entire table looked over in confusion. Harry looked horrified.
"Wonderful."
Anne reached over and patted his hand. "Relax."
"I'm trying."
"Very poorly might I add." A few minutes later, perhaps sensing she'd pushed her luck sufficiently for one morning, Anne finally relented. "Why don't you two go walk around the property?"
Harry looked immediately suspicious. "Why?"
"Because it's beautiful."
"Suspicious."
Anne ignored him. "I also need to tell you I booked dinner tonight. In a little town not far from here."
Harry blinked. "Dinner?"
"The four of us." She smiled. "You, Isabela, me and David."
Harry glanced toward Isabela. She shrugged. "Sounds lovely, Anne."
"See?" Anne looked smug. "It's settled."
Eventually Harry leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."
Anne squeezed his hand. Then immediately shooed them away. "Go."
The property stretched for acres beyond the main venue. Gardens gave way to winding paths, old stone walls and rolling countryside beyond. By the time they were out of earshot of the brunch tables, the noise behind them had faded into little more than distant laughter.
For a while they simply walked. Neither in a hurry. Neither particularly concerned about where they were going. The conversation started slowly. Naturally. Like most conversations between them always had.
Eventually Harry cleared his throat. "I don't want you to think this is out of the blue."
Isabela looked over. "What is?"
Immediately Harry regretted opening his mouth. Because now he had to explain. Excellent. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "I've liked you for a while."
There. Done. Out in the world.
Isabela looked surprisingly calm. Almost amused. "I know."
Harry stopped walking. "What?"
She laughed. "What?"
"You knew?"
"Harry." Now it was her turn to look at him like he'd lost his mind. "You are not subtle."
"I am."
"No."
"Occasionally."
"Never."
Harry groaned.
Meanwhile Isabela continued walking. "I just didn't think it was more than..." She searched briefly for the right words. "...us."
Harry nodded slowly.Because he understood. Neither of them had talked about feelings or relationships. Or any of the complicated things hiding beneath everything else.
They worked. They spent time together. They slept together. Then they worked some more. The routine had become so familiar neither had stopped to question it.
"I haven't slept with anybody else."
The words arrived casually. Almost too casually. Harry immediately coughed.
Isabela looked delighted. "Wow."
Harry looked away. Then admitted quietly, "Me either."
That earned another smile. "Don't go shy on me now." She folded her arms. "Where's the guy from the shower last night?"
Harry nearly walked directly into a hedge. "Shit."
"I'm serious."
"I hate this conversation." Eventually Harry sighed. "So we're on the same page."
"I think so but..."
"But."
A smile appeared. "We haven't actually said anything. We've just clarified that we don't have time to sleep with other people."
Harry nodded. Fair. Reasonable.
"We'll leave it there for now."
"Good plan."
They continued walking. The path curved through gardens before opening toward the countryside beyond. Eventually the conversation shifted. As it always seemed to. Back to his father.
Harry wasn't entirely sure how it happened. One moment they were talking about childhood. The next he found himself saying things he'd never really explained properly to anyone. Even Theo. Even Anne.
"It's hard to describe." They walked slowly along an old stone wall while he searched for the right words. "People meet him and think he's fine."
"He is fine."
Harry laughed softly. "That's the problem. He isn't a bad man."
"No."
"I know that." He looked down. Then back toward the path ahead. "But he's never been interested in my life." The admission felt strangely vulnerable. "I genuinely don't think he knows how old I am sometimes."
Isabela didn't interrupt.
"When I followed him into medicine, I thought..." Harry smiled weakly. "...I don't know. I thought maybe he'd be happy."
The words sounded stupid now. Childish. But still, they were true.
Instead it had become comparison. Expectations. Corrections. Advice delivered like instructions.
"It was always about being better." Harry swallowed. "And somehow being better always meant being more like him."
Eventually Isabela spoke. "Harry."
He looked over.
"You are a great doctor." The certainty in her voice immediately made arguing impossible. "You shouldn't let him dictate how you see yourself."
Harry looked away. "Easy for you to say."
"No, it isn't." She shook her head. A breeze lifted a few strands of hair from her face. She tucked them behind her ear before continuing. "I think he cares about you."
Harry laughed. Reflexively.
"I'm serious."
"He has a funny way of showing it."
"I know." A pause. "But I think the problem is that he doesn't know you. He knows Surgeon Harry." She counted on her fingers. "He knows Consultant Harry." Another finger. "He knows Professor Styles' son." A third. "But he doesn't know you."
Harry stayed quiet.
"And that's his fault. He doesn't get credit for not knowing his own son."
Something tightened in Harry's chest. Relief perhaps.
"I think your dad just cares in a really fucked up way."
A laugh escaped him "There it is."
They reached the crest of a small hill overlooking the venue. Below them, Anne and David had somehow convinced the remaining guests to start opening champagne. Laughter drifted across the lawn. Music played softly from somewhere.
Beside him, Isabela slowed. Then stopped. "Harry."
He looked over. The seriousness in her expression caught him immediately.
"I promise... if your dad knew you. Really knew you." The emotion in her voice made his throat tighten. "He'd be proud."
Harry looked away first. He didn't disagree, but it hurt hearing it. The good kind. The kind that found old wounds.
"I'm sorry he doesn't know you." Her voice softened. "But your mum does."
Harry looked toward Anne. She was laughing at something David had said. Completely unaware they were watching.
"And every time she's spoken to me this weekend, all she's done is talk about how proud she is of you. How good you are." A pause. "How kind you are." Another. "How much she loves you."
Harry swallowed. Hard.
Beside him, Isabela smiled gently. "I think that's worth a lot more than whatever your dad says."
For a long moment neither of them moved. Below them, Anne threw her head back laughing. David wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The bridal party cheered as another bottle of champagne popped open.
Harry looked at them. Then at Isabela. And for the first time in a very long time, the weight he'd been carrying felt just a little bit lighter.
Genre/Warning: discussions of fame and public attention involving a child, mild parental anxiety around privacy and online exposure, stress, tour life and public figure dynamics
Summary: A fun, family-focused one-shot set during Harry's Amsterdam shows, following Harry, Nora, Remy and Leo as they settle into tour life. Between rehearsals, park days, ice cream runs and life around the arena, it's a story about family, growing up, and finding normal moments in an extraordinary world.
Note: This story is non-canon and written purely for fun.
Series Masterlist: Here
Masterlist: Here
By the third show, they were finally finding a rhythm. Not a perfect rhythm. Leo still wasn't sleeping through the night. But a rhythm nonetheless. The kind families built when they were dropped into a new city and forced to adapt. Leo was the biggest indicator of it.
The first few days he'd been clingy, overtired, overwhelmed by the constant movement and stimulation. He'd wanted Nora constantly, wanted Remy constantly, wanted familiarity in a situation that was anything but familiar. But now, slowly, he was settling.
The apartment felt familiar. The route to the arena felt familiar. The parks and bakeries and canals felt familiar. And perhaps most importantly, Anne had become one of his favourite people in the entire world. Which was how Nora found herself watching her two-year-old happily walking out the apartment door holding Anne's hand while clutching a toy dinosaur in the other.
"Nanna."
"Yes darling?"
"Ice cream."
Anne laughed. "Maybe we can get some after you have dinner."
"Ice cream."
"Yes, after dinner.."
Leo looked back over his shoulder. "Mumma bye."
Nora crouched and kissed his cheek. "By, my love."
"Dadda bye."
Then Leo pointed dramatically. "Go." And just like that he was gone. Marching off with Anne to spend the afternoon and evening exploring Amsterdam.
The second the apartment door closed, the atmosphere changed. Because now there was only one child. And one child meant Remy had approximately twelve times more energy. Which was saying something.
"Mumma."
Nora looked up. Remy was already bouncing which was a dangerous sign. "Mm?"
"Mumma."
"Yes?"
"I have an idea."
"Let's hear it."
Remy's eyes lit up. The way they always did when she thought she'd come up with something revolutionary. Tonight's revolutionary idea was apparently:
"I want to go downstairs."
Harry frowned. "Downstairs where?"
"To the people."
"The people?"
"The dancing people."
Nora immediately understood. The pit. The area inside the stage. The sections closest to the action. The place where the crowd became part of the show.
"You mean at Daddy's show?"
Remy nodded enthusiastically. "I want to dance with everyone."
Harry's answer arrived so quickly it practically interrupted her. "No."
Remy's face fell instantly. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"Daddy."
"No."
"Daddy, please."
"No." Harry folded his arms.
Nora looked between them. Harry already looked stressed. Remy already looked devastated. And neither of them had even properly discussed it yet.
"Okay," Nora said. "Everyone breathe."
Remy immediately inhaled dramatically. Harry rolled his eyes. Nora pointed at him. "You too."
"I am breathing."
"Barely."
Remy was now standing between them looking personally wronged. "But I really want to."
Harry sighed. "It's not about wanting to."
"Then what is it about?"
"It's..." Harry rubbed his forehead. "It's crowded."
"I like people."
"It's loud."
"I like loud."
"It's busy."
"I like busy."
Harry looked at Nora. "See?"
Nora smiled slightly. Then she crouched down in front of Remy. "Tell me why you want to go."
Remy answered instantly. "Because everybody is dancing. And singing."
"Okay."
"And Daddy comes over. and it looks fun."
"Okay." That part was harder to argue with. Because it did look fun. The pit had become one of the defining features of the show. People dancing. Laughing. Moving. Feeling close to the music.
Remy had spent two nights watching it from above. Naturally she wanted in.
Nora glanced at Harry. He already knew she was considering it. His expression immediately became suspicious.
"No."
"You don't even know what I'm thinking."
"I do."
"You don't."
Nora stood and walked around the room. Thinking. Because Harry wasn't wrong. There were risks. But it wasn't impossible either. Eventually she looked at Harry. "What if I go with her? The whole time."
Harry stared. Nora continued. "Security stays with us."
"Hm."
"We stay inside the stage area."
"Hm."
"We leave if she gets overwhelmed."
Harry looked unconvinced. Remy looked like she was trying not to explode. Then Harry sighed. Long and dramatic.
Nora smiled. Remy looked at her mum's smile and then back at her Dad's face. Remy gasped. "WAIT."
Harry pointed immediately. "This is not a yes."
"It sounds like a yes."
Eventually Harry looked at Nora and then Remy. Then back at Nora. "You stay together. The entire time."
"Yes."
"If it gets weird—"
"We leave."
"If it gets crowded—"
"We leave."
"If she gets tired—"
"We leave."
Remy looked horrified. "I won't get tired."
Nora and Harry both looked at her.
And two hours later, when Harry was getting ready backstage and Nora was helping Remy adjust her little headphones, Remy was practically vibrating. She looked like Christmas morning. Like she'd won the lottery.
"Mumma."
"Yeah?"
"I'm really excited!"
"I know."
"No but like really excited."
"I know."
"Like REALLY."
Nora laughed. "BUG. I know."
Harry leaned down and kissed Nora quickly. Then Remy's forehead. Then pointed at her.
"You be careful and no creative directing from the pit."
The arena filled quickly. The atmosphere growing louder and louder. And eventually it was time. Security walked them down. Past hallways. Past crew. And into the pit. Immediately Nora understood why Remy loved it. The energy was completely different. More alive somehow.
The stage towered above them. People already laughing and chatting while they waited. And then something happened Nora hadn't fully prepared for. People recognised them. Not Harry. Her and Remy.
"Hi Nora!" A girl near the barrier waved.
Nora smiled politely. "Hi."
"Oh my God Remy, I love your dress."
Remy beamed. "Thank you."
Another person. Then another. Then another. Everybody kind. Everybody respectful. Everybody lovely. But still... Strange.
There was a weird moment where Nora found herself smiling while simultaneously feeling unsettled. Because these people knew things about her. Not personally. But enough to recognise her and to know Remy's name. Enough that conversations started without introductions.
Nobody crossed boundaries. Nobody made her uncomfortable. But standing there, listening to strangers greet her daughter by name, she suddenly understood a side of fame she'd never fully processed before It wasn't dangerous. It was just odd.
"Mumma." Remy tugged her hand.
"What?"
"The show's starting."
And just like that the moment passed. Because Harry appeared and the arena erupted. And Remy forgot literally everything else. From the first song she was gone. Dancing. Jumping. Spinning. Attempting choreography she'd only half learned. Singing every lyric she knew.
At one point Nora looked over and realised Remy had somehow gathered a tiny crowd around herself. People were just smiling. Laughing. Matching her energy. She was magnetic just like her father. The realization hit Nora hard enough she had to look away for a second. Because it wasn't just that Remy loved performing. It was that people loved watching her perform. And that was different.
On stage Harry eventually spotted them. His face immediately brightened. He made his way across the giant stage toward their section. The crowd screaming louder as he approached. Remy saw him coming and lost her mind.
"DADDY!"
Harry laughed. Then started matching her dance moves. Remy nearly collapsed from excitement. She copied him. He copied her. She spun. He spun. She pointed dramatically. He pointed dramatically. The crowd around them absolutely loved it. Nora couldn't even blame them. It was ridiculous.
The rest of the show passed in flashes. Harry occasionally glancing toward them. Remy dancing until her cheeks were bright pink. People smiling at them. People filming. Phones appearing more often than Nora really noticed at first. Videos. Photos. Moments being captured.
Remy didn't care. She was having the best night of her life. Nora mostly didn't think about it either. Not yet. Because right now all she could see was her daughter.
Happy. Confident. Free.
Dancing her heart out in the middle of Amsterdam while her father sang above her. And for that moment, standing inside the stage with thousands of people around them, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Even if somewhere in the back of Nora's mind, a tiny voice was beginning to wonder what happened when moments like this stopped belonging only to them.
──────────────
If anything, the comments are overwhelmingly kind. That's what makes it complicated. Because there isn't a villain. There isn't a horrible headline. There isn't someone being cruel. It's just the reality that thousands and thousands of strangers now know their five-year-old by name and by face. And that feels different.
The apartment is unusually quiet the next morning. The kind of morning-after calm that follows a late night. The Dutch sunlight is pouring through the enormous windows, warm and golden across the kitchen floor. Milo is sprawled near the balcony doors, one eye open in case someone drops food. Which, statistically speaking, is likely.
Nora is standing at the kitchen island in an oversized sweatshirt, hair piled messily on top of her head, pouring cereal into bowls while simultaneously trying to stop Leo from climbing onto the counter from his high chair.
"Feet down."
"No."
"Leo."
"No."
"Leo Elwood Styles."
The tiny dictator pauses. Considers. Then slowly lowers himself. Satisfied with this compromise, Nora turns around just in time to catch him dropping half a strawberry. Not on the floor but directly into Milo's mouth. Milo catches it without even lifting his head.
"Leo."
Leo immediately points at the dog.
"Milo food."
"Milo is not hungry. He has his own food."
Nora pinches the bridge of her nose. Across the table, Remy is eating toast while drawing something on a napkin.
"Mumma."
"Mm?"
"Leo's feeding him because they're best friends."
"That's not how pet ownership works."
Remy nods thoughtfully. "I think it is."
"Wonderful."
Leo has already acquired another piece of banana.
"Leo, please don't."
"Milo hungry." He immediately feeds him the banana.
Nora gives up. The coffee machine hums. The kettle whistles. The apartment feels warm and lived in. Safe. Harry wanders in wearing joggers and a faded t-shirt, looking only marginally more awake than everyone else. He kisses Nora's cheek on the way past.
"Morning."
"Morning, H."
He steals a strawberry. She slaps his hand. "Get your own."
Harry glances over and Leo freezes. Caught red-handed or banana-handed.
"Mate."
"Milo hungry."
Harry nods solemnly. His phone starts ringing.
Jeff.
Harry answers without much thought. "Morning."
At first the conversation seems normal. Then Nora notices his expression changing. The way it does when something catches his attention. His smile fades. His posture straightens.
"How much?" he asks eventually.
Silence.
"Right."
Nora glances up. Something's wrong. Harry rubs a hand across his jaw.
"Yeah, send me everything."
More listening.
"Okay. Thanks, mate."
The call ends and the kitchen suddenly feels different. Harry doesn't speak immediately, which is never a good sign. Nora sets down her mug. "What happened?"
Harry exhales. "Videos."
"Of what? The show?"
"Of Remy."
The room goes quiet. Because both of them know exactly what that means. Nora's stomach sinks.
"Is it bad?"
Harry immediately shakes his head. "No, that's the thing." He hands her his phone. "It's not bad."
Nora scrolls. Video after video. Remy dancing. Remy singing. Remy copying Harry. Remy spinning in circles. Remy laughing. Comments. Thousands of comments. Millions of views.
Mini Harry.
She's his twin!
Sorry Shania. I think Harry has a new opening act for London.
This kid is having the time of her life.
I can't stop watching her dance.
The next generation.
Look how proud he is.
Look how happy she is.
Then more. Videos of Harry dancing near the pit. Videos catching Nora laughing. Smiling. Watching. Comments.
Congratulations Nora Styles, honestly you won.
The way he looks at his wife.
She's so supportive.
Their family is adorable.
Nothing cruel. Nothing invasive. Nothing objectively wrong. But Nora feels a knot forming in her stomach anyway. Because suddenly it isn't just Harry. People are talking about Remy. Harry sits heavily across from her, running a hand through his hair.
Nora scrolls further. And further. And further. The numbers keep climbing. The same clips appearing everywhere. The same moments. The same little girl. Their little girl.
Finally she locks the phone and places it down. Neither speaks. Until Harry does.
"I knew this would happen."
Nora's head lifts immediately. The frustration in his voice catches her off guard.
"I knew it."
She exhales. "Harry."
"I did. We talked about this."
"We did."
"I said I didn't love the idea."
"And I didn't love it either."
He stands. Starts pacing. Not angry. Stressed. "Now everybody knows who she is."
Nora's expression tightens. "Don't."
He stops. "What?"
"Don't make it sound like this was my decision."
Harry immediately looks guilty. Because she's right. It had been both of them. A mutual decision. A compromise. Their decision.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know you didn't." Her voice stays calm. Mostly. "But don't put that on me."
Harry closes his eyes briefly. "You're right."
Nora leans back in her chair. "I'm scared too."
Harry looks at her. "I know."
"No, I don't think you do."
His expression softens immediately. Nora folds her arms and looks toward the living room where Remy is still drawing completely oblivious. Leo is now feeding Milo the leftover crust from Remy's breakfast.
Right now she can't stop looking at Remy. Five years old. Tiny. Happy. Safe but suddenly visible. "She's happy," Nora says quietly.
Harry nods. "I know."
"But she's little. She's so little, Harry."
His shoulders drop because that's the heart of it. Not the comments or the videos or the attention. The age. Five. Five feels different than fifteen or twenty-five. Five is still believing in dragons. Five is still asking for help tying shoes. Five is still climbing into their bed after nightmares.
Harry sits back down. The fight already gone. "I don't want people expecting things from her."
Nora nods immediately. "Me neither."
"I don't want people recognising her everywhere."
"I know."
"I don't want her becoming content."
Nora understands exactly what he means. Not Remy the person. Remy the clip. The moment. The viral video. The thing people consume.
Nora reaches for his hand. "Hey. We don't have to figure out the next ten years today."
He laughs softly. Humorless. "Feels like we should."
"I know."
Across the room, Remy suddenly appears. "Can I please have another piece of toast? Leo keeps feeding Milo my food."
Both parents immediately look up. "Yes," Nora says.
Remy grins. "Thanks Mumma." Runs back.
Harry watches her go. "She's amazing. People are seeing what we see."
"Yeah."
He squeezes her hand. "But I don't know how much of her I want them seeing."
And Nora feels that in her chest. Because that's exactly it. Not shame, protection. The strange impossible balancing act of raising a child around fame. Letting her be herself without letting the world take pieces of her.
"We'll figure it out."
Harry looks at her. "We always do."
──────────────
For the next few days, they do absolutely nothing. Or at least, nothing by Harry Styles standards.
No arenas. No rehearsals. No soundchecks. No production meetings. No conversations about stage configurations or camera angles or whether Remy should be allowed in the pit. Just family.
After the last show, Harry and Nora had quietly agreed to take a step back while they figured out how they felt about everything. Neither of them regretted letting Remy experience it. That wasn't the issue. The issue was the world suddenly discovering her.
So when Remy woke up the morning after the last show with a slightly blocked nose and a dramatic declaration that she was dying it had actually made the decision easier. She'd happily curled up beside Nora in the suite that night with a blanket over her lap and a cup of hot chocolate she'd mostly forgotten to drink.
No pit. No videos. No discussions. Just cuddles.And honestly? It had been nice.
Now, two days later, Vondelpark had become their thing. Their place. The one corner of Amsterdam that felt a little bit theirs.
The weather was warm, sunlight filtering through huge trees overhead while cyclists glided past every few minutes. People sat on blankets. Dogs chased tennis balls. Children ran through patches of grass.
Normal life. The kind of normal they were always trying to find. Harry had Remy on his back. Not because she couldn't walk. She could, perfectly well actually. She'd simply decided she was tired three minutes after insisting she wasn't.
"Daddy."
"Yeah?"
"My legs don't work anymore."
"They worked ten seconds ago."
"They've stopped."
Harry snorted. "That's convenient."
"I know."
"You should probably tell someone."
"I am telling someone. I am telling you, Daddy."
And so she'd ended up on his back, arms looped around his shoulders while he carried her along the path.
Meanwhile Nora had somehow become responsible for everyone else. Milo's leash tied around the handle of Leo's pram while he walked next to it. The same pram that Nora had one hand rested on. The other held onto the handlebar of Remy's scooter. Leo was standing on the scooter deck itself, gripping the handlebars while Nora slowly pulled him along. He looked impossibly pleased with himself.
"Mumma."
"Yeah baby?"
"Fast."
"No."
"Fast."
"I can't, Leo."
"FAST!"
Harry glanced over his shoulder. "Do it."
"You're not helping."
"He's got dreams."
Leo nodded aggressively. "Go fast." The fact he had absolutely no idea what he was agreeing to only made it funnier.
A few hours later they were feeding ducks beside a small pond while Remy delivered a running commentary on every single thing she'd experienced since waking up.
"Mummy, did you know ducks can fly?"
"Yep."
"And swim."
"Also yes."
"And walk."
"Remarkable creatures."
"And if I was a duck I would have pink feathers."
Harry nodded seriously. "Of course."
"And I'd live in Amsterdam."
Leo immediately pointed. "Ham."
Remy groaned. "It is not called Ham. I can't keep doing this with you Leo."
"Ham."
"Amsterdam."
"Ham."
"Am-ster-dam."
"Ham ham."
Harry was laughing too hard to help. Nora wasn't much better.
By lunchtime they'd found a quiet patch of grass beneath a huge tree and spread out a blanket. Sandwiches. Fruit. Crisps. A few pastries they'd bought earlier. The kind of picnic that looked effortless but had actually required approximately forty-seven separate negotiations with children.
Leo had eaten enough to satisfy everyone before crashing spectacularly. Now he was asleep in the pram beside them. Seat fully reclined. Tiny hand still gripping a cracker.
Meanwhile Remy had apparently discovered a new passion. Cartwheels or at least her interpretation of them.
"MUMMA WATCH."
"I'm watching."
"NO REALLY WATCH."
"I am."
"WATCH THIS ONE."
Nora lifted her head from Harry's lap.
"I'm literally looking directly at you."
Remy launched herself sideways. Something vaguely resembling a cartwheel occurred. She landed dramatically. Then bowed. Harry clapped. Nora clapped. Remy accepted the applause like royalty. "Thank you, your majesty."
Harry's hand was absentmindedly moving through Nora's hair while she stretched out beside him, one arm across her stomach. For a while they just watched. Watched their daughter cartwheel. Watched people wander through the park. Watched Leo sleep.
The conversation drifted naturally back toward the thing they'd been quietly circling for days. Harry stared out across the grass.
"You know we can't stop it entirely."
Nora knew exactly what he meant. The videos. The attention. Remy.
"I know."
Harry sighed. "I just hate that people know who she is now."
Nora reached up and squeezed his wrist. "I know."
"Five is so young."
"It is."
A pause. Then she smiled slightly. "But let's be realistic."
Harry glanced down. Nora was staring up through her sunglasses.
"She's your daughter."
"Uh oh."
"No, seriously."
"Nora."
"I'm being serious. Harry, she spent an entire rehearsal telling Molly how to improve the show."
"Molly was entertained, for sure."
"She thinks every room is a stage. She's charismatic."
Harry groaned. "Don't say it."
Nora grinned. "Look, maybe it won't be a stage. Maybe it'll be acting. Or music. Maybe dance."
Harry closed his eyes. "Baby."
She laughed harder. "My point is she's probably going to do something creative."
Harry reluctantly nodded because he knew she was right. "And if she does?"
Nora shrugged. "We'll help her." A moment passed. Then she added sweetly, "Also if you weren't so talented and amazing we wouldn't be in this situation."
Harry immediately looked offended. "Oh."
She giggled.
"So this is my fault?"
"Absolutely."
"Incredible. Wow."
She was still laughing when he flicked her forehead lightly. They sat quietly for another moment. Then Nora looked up at him properly.
Backwards cap. Sunglasses. Relaxed. Happy. The scruff on his face. And something about it hit her unexpectedly. My husband is so fucking attractive. Ridiculous. She squinted at him. Harry immediately recognized the expression.
"No."
"What?"
"I know that face."
"You don't," she giggled.
"I do."
"You look really fucking hot with your hat backwards."
Harry groaned immediately. "Nora."
"I'm serious."
"Children."
"A proper dilf. Dad I'd like to—"
His eyes widened. "Nora!" She started laughing. "Shhh! You're impossible."
"Look at yourself."
"Leo is asleep."
"Exactly."
"Please."
Before he could recover, Remy came hurtling across the grass and launched herself directly onto Nora. "Oof!" The air left Nora's lungs. "Jesus Christ."
"I did six cartwheels."
"That's amazing."
"And one almost-cartwheel."
"Even better."
Remy settled completely on top of her. Like a human blanket. Harry shook his head. "I don't know how you're comfortable."
"I'm not."
"Mumma."
"Yeah?"
"I love Amsterdam."
Nora smiled. Looking up at Harry. Looking at the trees. Looking at the sleepy toddler beside them in the pram. At Milo who has snoozing on the corner of the picnic blanket snoozing with his paws in the air. Looking at her daughter. "I think Rem is right."
Harry winked. "I know."
"I really love Amsterdam."
And of course because peace never lasted, a loud wail suddenly erupted from the pram. Both parents looked over. Leo had woken up. Instantly offended by everything.
"MUMMA!"
"There he is."
"Mumma."
Remy immediately scrambled off Nora and ran over. She lifted the pram cover dramatically. "Leo."
His crying stopped. Immediately. "Remyyy."
"Hi."
"Remy here."
"I'm always here."
Now he stretched both arms toward her. "Up."
Remy nodded confidently. "I've got him."
Harry sat upright instantly. "No you don't."
"I do." Remy was already trying. The result was exactly what everyone expected. Leo was roughly half her size which still made him heavy. She managed to lift him approximately four inches before wobbling alarmingly. Harry's hands were immediately hovering nearby.
Remy shuffled forward. Nearly fell over. Recovered and then deposited Leo directly onto Nora. Leo landed on her stomach.
"Mumma."
"Hello baby."
His little fists rubbed at his eyes. Sleepy. Warm. Still waking up.
"You have a good sleep?"
He nodded. "Sleep."
"I can tell. Look at you with marks on your face."
Remy immediately collapsed beside him. Now both children were draped across Nora. Harry looked down and then laughed because Nora couldn't move. Not even slightly. One child on each side. Both attached.
"Hello my clingy koalas."
Leo smiled. Remy grinned. And then to make sure Nora didn't go anywhere, Milo walked over and put his head down on the one small space free... Nora's ankles. He huffed while he got comfortable, paws in the air again. Nobody moved. Harry reached for his phone.
"Don't."
Too late. One photo. Another photo. Then another. Then another.
Three faces looking up at him. Nora laughing. Remy grinning. Leo still half asleep. It was one of those moments. The kind you don't realize you'll treasure forever until years later. The kind that sneaks up on you.
Harry lowered the phone. His chest suddenly feeling very full. Very grateful. Very lucky. And maybe Nora felt it too because she looked up at him and smiled softly. Not the big laugh she'd been doing all day. The smile that always felt like home.
Harry reached down and squeezed her thigh. "Love you."
She smiled wider. "Love you too."
Remy immediately sat up. "I love everyone."
Leo pointed at Milo. "Milo."
Everyone laughed. Even Leo.
And under the warm Amsterdam sun, with grass beneath them and their children piled on top of each other and nowhere important to be for the rest of the day, it felt like exactly what they'd been chasing the entire tour.
Not perfection. Not privacy. Just this. Their little family. Together.
Genre/Warning: discussions of fame and public attention involving a child, mild parental anxiety around privacy and online exposure, stress, tour life and public figure dynamics
Summary: A fun, family-focused one-shot set during Harry's Amsterdam shows, following Harry, Nora, Remy and Leo as they settle into tour life. Between rehearsals, park days, ice cream runs and life around the arena, it's a story about family, growing up, and finding normal moments in an extraordinary world.
Note: This story is non-canon and written purely for fun.
Series Masterlist: Here
Masterlist: Here
Day two in Amsterdam and the apartment already looked like they'd been living there for three months.
Nora stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, coffee in hand, surveying the damage with resigned acceptance. The apartment itself was gorgeous—tall windows, exposed beams, sunlight pouring through every room, a view of one of the canals from the balcony—but any architectural beauty was currently being overshadowed by the fact that there appeared to be an explosion of Remy all over it.
There was a colouring book on the coffee table. Another colouring book under the coffee table. Strawberry was face-down on one of the dining chairs. A pink tutu had somehow migrated onto the back of the sofa. Three felt-tip pens sat abandoned beside the television. A pile of books she'd insisted she needed for the trip had spread across the rug like she'd opened a travelling library. And in the middle of all of it sat Milo. Perfectly content. Completely unbothered. Looking like he'd lived here his whole life.
"Milo," Nora said, taking another sip of coffee, "at least one member of this family knows how to relax."
Milo lifted his head, thumped his tail once and went back to sleep. The apartment was already alive with noise. Leo had discovered that Amsterdam apparently meant he could only communicate in shouting. Not because he was upset. Just because he was two. And because shouting was fun.
"DADDA!"
"I'm right here, mate."
"DADDY!"
"I haven't moved."
"DADDA!"
Harry laughed from the kitchen island where he was attempting to make breakfast while simultaneously answering rehearsal texts. Remy, meanwhile, had somehow found enough energy to be dancing around the living room before nine in the morning. She was wearing her tutu over shorts. The living room now a fashion show.
"Rem."
"Yeah?"
"Your belongings are everywhere. Do you think maybe we could pause tutu time and do some cleaning?"
Remy looked down at herself and then looked at Nora. "I'm a bit busy right now Mumma. I'll do it when I'm not so busy."
Harry snorted into his coffee. Nora pointed at him. "Do not encourage her."
"I didn't say anything."
"You laughed."
"Because she's funny."
"I know she's funny. That's the problem."
Remy beamed. "I get it from Daddy."
"Absolutely not," Nora replied immediately.
Harry looked offended. "Excuse me?"
"You know exactly what I mean."
"I think she's a delightful child."
"You think she's hilarious because she acts exactly like you."
Harry took a long sip of coffee. "That sounds like a compliment."
"It wasn't."
"It was a little bit."
Across the room, Leo had found a toy car and was driving it directly into Milo's side. Milo didn't even open his eyes.
"Vroooooom."
"Vroooooom."
"Doggy."
"DOGGY LOOK."
"LOOK."
Harry smiled. "He's very excited."
"He's very loud."
"He gets that from you."
Nora turned. "Me?"
"Absolutely."
"Both Leo and Remy are copies of you. Except they get their sweet side from me."
"You can't claim qualities now. That's not how it works."
She stared at him. He grinned. The conversation was interrupted by Remy climbing onto a dining chair backwards. Because of course it was.
"Mummy."
"Yes?"
"I love Amsterdam."
Nora smiled. "You've been here less than two days."
"I know."
"And?"
"I love it."
"What specifically do you love?"
Remy immediately launched into a list.
"The bikes. The boats. The tiny houses."
"Mm."
"The bridges. The bread."
"Mm."
"The ducks. And everybody talks funny."
Harry laughed. "They're speaking Dutch."
"I know."
"It isn't funny."
"It is a little bit. I'm gonna move here."
Nora shook her head. "You cannot move to Amsterdam."
"Why not?"
"Because you're five."
Leo had stopped listening entirely. Instead he was climbing onto Harry's lap and trying to steal pieces of toast.
"Dadda."
"No."
"Dadda."
"No."
"Daddy."
Harry handed over a piece.
"You're weak," Nora informed him.
"I know."
Leo shoved the entire piece into his mouth. "Dadda good."
"Thank you."
"Dada best."
Remy suddenly sat upright. "Mummy. Do you know what Leo called Amsterdam yesterday?"
Nora smiled immediately because she already knew where this was going. "Oh no."
Harry was already laughing. Remy pointed dramatically at her little brother.
"Leo tell mummy. Say Amsterdam. AMSTERDAM."
Leo blinked. "Ham."
Nora laughed. "There it is."
"Ham."
Remy practically folded in half laughing. "Leo!"
"Ham."
"It isn't called ham!"
"Ham."
"Amsterdam!"
"Ham."
"Am-ster-dam."
"Ham."
Harry was losing the battle completely now, shoulders shaking with laughter. Leo looked delighted by the reaction.
"Ham. Ham. Ham. Ham. Ham."
Remy slid off her chair. "Leo you're being so silly!"
Leo threw his head back and yelled, "HAM!"
The entire room erupted. Even Nora was crying laughing now. Milo lifted his head again, looking mildly concerned by the sudden chaos. Remy collapsed dramatically onto the rug.
"It's not called ham!"
Leo pointed at the window. "Ham."
The next half hour passed exactly the way mornings always seemed to pass in their family. Fast, loud and slightly disorganised. Harry tried to finish breakfast. Remy danced every time music came on. Leo alternated between demanding cuddles and trying to launch himself off furniture. Milo remained asleep through all of it.
Eventually Harry's phone buzzed again. A rehearsal update. He glanced down and then sighed. Nora noticed immediately.
"You have to go."
"I know."
Remy groaned dramatically from the floor. "No. I think they should rehearse without you."
"Oh yeah?"
Harry pushed away from the island and crouched beside her, pulling her into a hug. "I'll see you later."
"At the park?"
"At the park."
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Leo immediately appeared. "Dadda. park?"
"Later, mate."
Harry scooped him up. "You're both very clingy today."
"We love you," Remy informed him.
Harry stood, Leo still on his hip, and walked over to Nora. She stepped into him automatically, one arm sliding around his waist while he kissed her forehead.
"You'll text me?" she asked.
"Course I will."
Harry reached out and squeezed her hand once before grabbing his bag. "Right. I'm going before I get emotionally manipulated into staying." He opened the apartment door, then looked back one final time. "I love you."
"We love you too," Nora replied.
"Love you, Daddy!"
"Ham!" Leo yelled.
The chaos resumed almost immediately after Harry left. Nora lasted approximately three minutes before she found herself standing in the middle of the apartment holding a tiny pair of socks in one hand, a half-packed nappy bag in the other, while trying to remember where she'd put Leo's water bottle.
The answer, as it turned out, was in Milo's bed. Naturally.
"Why?" she asked aloud, pulling it out. Leo looked up from the floor.
"Water."
"Thank you, sweetheart. Very helpful."
By the time everyone was actually ready to leave, Nora felt like she'd already lived an entire day. Remy was standing by the front door in a little sundress, scooter helmet already clipped beneath her chin despite the fact they'd still need to take the lift downstairs. Leo was securely strapped into the pram with a dinosaur in one hand and a biscuit in the other. Milo had been bribed into staying home with enough treats to last several hours.
"Right," Nora announced, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Everybody got what they need?"
"Yep."
"Good. Let's go."
Amsterdam felt different during the day. The previous afternoon had been arrival, luggage, groceries, unpacking, figuring out where everything was. Today felt like the first real chance to breathe.
The city was warm without being uncomfortable, sunlight bouncing off the canals and old brick buildings. Cyclists flowed around them like water, somehow avoiding collisions despite moving in every direction imaginable.
Remy was convinced it was the greatest place on earth. She'd spent most of the morning scootering slightly ahead before circling back every few minutes to report a new discovery.
"Mum, look at that boat."
"That's a nice boat."
"And that one."
"Also a nice boat."
"And that one."
"Bug, I think all the boats are nice."
She considered this. "Yeah. But that one's my favourite."
Nora laughed softly.
There was something lovely about watching her discover a new place. Children travelled differently than adults. Nora noticed architecture and restaurants and whether she remembered to bring enough snacks. Remy noticed ducks. And flowers. And whether a bridge looked like one from a fairy tale.
"Mummy?"
"Mm?"
"If we lived here, do you think I'd have a bike with flowers on it?"
"You don't even ride your current bike."
"Mumma, answer the question."
"Sorry. I think it would have lots and lots of flowers."
"It would be perfect."
"It would."
Leo chose that moment to yell, "HAM."
Several tourists turned around. Nora covered her face. Remy immediately dissolved into laughter.
"Leo it's not called ham."
"Ham."
"Am-ster-dam."
"Ham!"
A passing woman laughed as she walked by. Leo looked delighted by the attention.
The bakery they found was tucked between two narrow buildings overlooking a canal. The smell alone was enough to convince Nora they were stopping. She ordered coffee for herself, juice for Remy, something small for Leo, and far too many pastries considering there were only three of them. Remy sat at the little table by the window swinging her legs while carefully peeling apart a croissant.
"I think croissants taste better in Amsterdam."
Nora smiled over her coffee. The thing about travelling with children was that it slowed everything down. Sometimes that was frustrating. Mostly, though, it forced her to pay attention.
She watched sunlight catch in Remy's hair as she spoke animatedly about absolutely nothing. She watched Leo attempt to feed crumbs to pigeons through the window despite being indoors. She listened to conversations she would've otherwise missed.
Life felt bigger when she travelled with them. Messier. Louder. But bigger
They finally arrived at NEMO Science Museum. The building itself was enough to impress Remy.
"It looks like a ship!"
"It does, doesn't it."
Inside, Remy immediately entered the kind of hyper-focused excitement that only happened when something genuinely captured her attention. Science. Apparently. Which Nora hadn't expected.
One minute she was examining bubbles larger than her head. The next she was learning about gravity. Then electricity. Then magnets.
"Mummy, look!"
"I am looking."
"No really."
"I am."
"No but really really."
Nora laughed. "Bug, I promise I am looking."
Leo's approach to the museum was significantly less academic. His primary interest was pressing buttons. Every button. Regardless of what it did. If something lit up, made noise, moved or spun, he loved it.
"Dinosaur?"
"No dinosaurs here, baby."
"Oh." Then immediately, "beep."
"Yes, buttons go beep sometimes."
Halfway through the museum, however, reality caught up with him. Nora noticed it before he did. The slower blinking. The rubbing at his eyes. The way he rested his head against the side of the pram. By the time they reached the next floor, he was asleep. Head tilted slightly sideways. Dinosaur still clutched in one hand.
Nora stopped walking for a moment. Just looking at him. Two years old. Recently two years old. Still somehow a baby and not a baby.
For the first time all day it became just her and Remy. And Remy noticed too.
"Mummy?"
"Yeah?"
"It's just us."
"It is."
Remy slipped her hand into Nora's. Something she didn't always do anymore. Not because she didn't want to. Just because she was getting older. Becoming more independent. And somehow that simple little hand in hers nearly undid her.
They wandered through the museum together, slower now. Not trying to get anywhere. Remy asking questions. A hundred of them.
Why does this happen?
How does that work?
What would happen if—
And Nora answering where she could and making up ridiculous answers where she couldn't. At one point they sat by a huge window overlooking the city while Leo slept beside them. For a few minutes neither spoke. Remy leaned against her shoulder.
"Mummy?"
"Mm?"
"Thank you for taking me to the museum."
Nora kissed the top of her head. "You're so welcome, Rem."
"When does daddy stop working?"
There it was. The thing Nora had been quietly balancing since they arrived. Because Harry being on tour wasn't just Harry being on tour. It was family logistics. It was making sure the children still had a holiday while Harry worked twelve-hour days. Making sure nobody felt left behind. Making sure Harry didn't feel guilty. Making sure she didn't spend the whole trip counting down until rehearsals ended.
It was a balancing act she'd gotten good at over the years. Mostly because she'd learned something important. The time apart mattered far less than what they did with the time they had.
"Soon," Nora said softly.
Her phone buzzed. Almost on cue. She looked down.
A photo of Harry standing in the middle of the empty arena.
Stage is massive. Remy is going to lose her mind.
Nora laughed. Remy immediately leaned over. "Is that Daddy?"
"It is."
"What did he say?"
Nora handed her the phone. The grin that spread across Remy's face could have powered the entire city.
"The stage is so big!"
The moment Nora showed her Harry's photo from rehearsal, the rest of the museum became secondary. Every ten minutes it was, "Do you think Daddy's on the stage right now?" or "How many people fit in there?" or "Do you think if I stood on the stage I'd look tiny?"
By the time they finally left the museum, she was practically vibrating with excitement.
The plan was simple. Harry had finished rehearsal for the day and was meeting them in Vondelpark. They'd grab some food, find a spot in the grass and enjoy a few hours of pretending they were a normal family on holiday before reality inevitably caught up with them again. At least that was the idea.
The first stop was a supermarket. Because Harry had texted approximately twenty minutes earlier:
Can we do picnic food?
Now she was pushing the pram through the aisles while Remy zig-zagged beside her, holding onto the basket and offering deeply unnecessary opinions on every item they passed. The scooter handle under the pram narrowly missing everyone's ankles.
"We need strawberries."
"We're getting strawberries."
"And watermelon."
"We don't need watermelon."
"We definitely need watermelon."
"Why?"
"Because we're having a picnic."
A few aisles later they compromised on strawberries, grapes and some sliced watermelon. Nora had found small bottles of Wine as well as several dips and crackers.
Leo, meanwhile, had slept through the entire shopping trip. Still completely unconscious in the pram. Still clutching his dinosaur. Still somehow managing to look like the most peaceful child on earth despite having spent most of the morning pressing buttons and yelling about ham.
By the time they left the supermarket, Nora had accumulated enough food to feed approximately twelve people. "Why did I buy this much?"
Remy immediately answered. "Because you're fun."
The walk into Vondelpark was exactly the sort of afternoon Nora had imagined when Harry first mentioned Amsterdam. Warm without being too hot. The trees providing patches of shade. Cyclists passing every few minutes. People sprawled across the grass reading books or sharing lunch.
Remy was on her scooter immediately. The moment they entered the park she took off down the path before circling back like an overexcited puppy.
"Mumma!"
"Slow down!"
"I am slowing down."
"You are going faster."
She slowed for approximately three seconds. Then sped off again. Nora smiled despite herself. Some children seemed to move through life carefully. Remy launched herself into it. Enthusiastically.
The pram rolled easily beside her and for a while the only sounds were birds, distant conversations and the wheels of Remy's scooter humming across the path. Then Leo stirred.
A little sigh. A small stretch. His eyes blinked open. Confused for a moment. Then immediately searching.
"Hello, my little lion," Nora said softly, stopping the pram. "Did you have a good sleep?"
Leo rubbed one eye. Still waking up. Then his head started moving. Scanning.
"Where Remy?"
Nora laughed. Leo's newest obsession. For the last month or so Leo had become completely attached to his sister. Everything revolved around Remy. Where she was. What she was doing. Whether he could join. If she left a room, he noticed. If she wasn't visible, he asked. If she sat down somewhere, he wanted to sit there too.
"Where Remy?" he repeated.
Nora lifted him out of the pram and settled him onto her hip.
"She's right there."
As if she'd heard her cue, Remy immediately appeared beside them.
"Leo, I'm right here."
His entire face lit up. "Remy."
"Yep."
"Remy fast."
"I know."
Leo grinned. Satisfied with Remy's response. Then immediately wrapped his arms around Nora's neck and rested his head on her shoulder for another minute. Still sleepy. Still warm from his nap. Nora kissed his hair.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Harry.
By the fountain.
I can already hear Remy from here.
Nora laughed. "Come on."
"Mummy?"
"Yeah?"
"Does Daddy know we are at the park?"
"Apparently."
"Good."
They found him exactly where he said he'd be. Sitting on the edge of a low stone wall near one of the larger open lawns. Baseball cap. Sunglasses. Coffee in hand. Looking relaxed in the way he only did after rehearsals were finished and his brain could finally switch off. The second Remy spotted him she took off.
"DADDY!"
Harry barely had time to stand before she launched herself at him. He caught her automatically.
"Hello, bug."
"Daddy, I saw the picture of the stage. It's so big. Do you think people will see you? Do you think you will see me when I'm dancing?"
"Hi to you too."
She immediately started talking. Fast. Explaining everything she'd done that day. The museum. The bubbles. The science experiments. The boats. The ducks. The fact that Amsterdam was still the greatest city in the world.
Harry listened like every word mattered. Because to him, it did. Nora approached more slowly with Leo. Harry's smile softened immediately. "Hey."
"Hi baby."
Then Leo reached both arms out. "Dadda."
And just like that Leo was transferred from one parent to the other. A perfectly choreographed movement they'd been doing for years now. Harry kissed Nora's cheek as he took him.
"Good day?"
"Great day."
For a while they simply wandered. No destination. Just walking. Remy scootering ahead and then circling back every few minutes. Leo alternating between wanting to be carried and wanting to run around. Harry and Nora falling into step beside each other, hand in hand, talking. The easy kind of conversation that comes after years together.
Bits and pieces. Nothing important. Everything important. Talking about the museum. About rehearsal. About what they wanted to do tomorrow. About whether they should stay longer after the shows finished. About how Leo had apparently renamed an entire city.
Eventually they found a spot beneath a large tree overlooking one of the open grassy sections of the park. Remy immediately declared it perfect. The blanket came out. Then the food. Then the drinks. Then approximately seven napkins because somebody always spilled something.
They sat together for over an hour. Leo stealing strawberries. Remy talking constantly. Harry lying back against the blanket for a while with his sunglasses pushed into his hair. At one point Nora looked around and realised this was exactly why they travelled with him.
Not the hotels. Not the shows. Not the backstage passes. This. The hours in between. The ordinary moments happening in extraordinary places. The family part.
Eventually, though, reality caught up. Because no matter how normal they tried to make things, Harry was still Harry. And Amsterdam had figured out Harry Styles was sitting in Vondelpark.
The first person approached politely. Then another. Then another. A photo. A quick hello. A signature.
Nothing overwhelming. Just enough. Harry always handled it well. Always kind. Always present. But Nora knew him well enough to recognise the slight shift. The way he tried to split himself in two. Half with his family. Half with everyone else. So before he could start apologising, she squeezed his knee.
"Go."
His eyebrows lifted. "You sure?"
"Harry."
"Nora."
"We'll be ahead."
He glanced toward the children. Remy was already back on her scooter. Leo interested in his toy dinosaur. Neither cared in the slightest.
"Go say hello."
"Thank you."
She leaned forward and kissed him quickly. "Don't take forever."
Remy pushed off on her scooter. "Race you!"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because you're five and I'm carrying your brother."
"Ok you win."
Nora laughed. Behind her she could hear Harry talking with fans. Hear the excitement. The kindness. The gratitude. The strange balancing act that had become their life.
And as she watched Remy scooter ahead beneath the trees while Leo pointed out every dog, bird and bicycle they passed, she found herself smiling. Because this part wasn't always easy. But they were good at it now. At making room for both things.
They eventually left Vondelpark much later than planned. Which wasn't unusual.
Everything with children seemed to take longer than expected. Leaving the museum had taken longer. Finding a picnic spot had taken longer. Eating lunch had definitely taken longer because Leo had reached the age where every strawberry required a full inspection before consumption and Remy felt the need to narrate every thought that entered her head.
Nobody was particularly in a hurry. Least of all Harry. Rehearsal was done. There was nowhere he needed to be. Which was why he immediately suggested ice cream.
"That's because you want ice cream," Nora pointed out.
Harry looked genuinely offended. "Well obviously I want ice cream."
"Thank you."
"But I also think the children deserve ice cream."
Remy raised her hand off the scooter. "I agree with Daddy."
"Of course you do. You're both impossible."
Leo, sitting on Harry's shoulders now after refusing to walk any further, had only caught one important word. "Ice cream?"
"Yeah, buddy."
"Ice cream."
"Yeah."
A beat. Then louder, "ICE CREAM."
They found a small place not far from the park and the queue wasn't terrible. Though Harry being recognised roughly every ten steps did make things slower.
Not in an annoying way. Not even particularly intrusive. Just noticeable. A couple walking past did a double take. A teenager whispered something to her friend. Someone else smiled nervously before asking for a photo.
Harry always had the same response. Kind. Patient.Present. Never rushed.
Nora had seen it thousands of times. Sometimes she thought the most impressive thing about Harry's fame wasn't the fame itself. It was that he somehow managed to remain exactly the same person through all of it. Even now. Standing in line for ice cream holding a toddler. Listening seriously while Leo explained something incomprehensible about pigeons.
"Dadda."
"Yeah?"
"Pidge."
"I see him."
"Big. Pidge ice cream?"
"Maybe, mate. But it's better to keep the ice cream for yourself.."
Eventually they reached the front of the queue. Remy ordered strawberry, obviously. Leo pointed at three different flavours and seemed offended when Nora told him he could only have one. Harry ended up sharing his.
By the time they started walking back toward the apartment, the city felt busier. The later afternoon crowds had appeared. People finishing work. Tourists wandering. Cyclists weaving through everyone with terrifying confidence. And Harry was getting recognised more frequently now.
A hello here. A wave there. A photograph every few minutes. The first couple of times, Remy barely noticed. Then she started paying attention. The same way children always eventually did. Halfway down a canal street she slowed her scooter and drifted back toward her parents.
"Daddy?"
"Yeah, bug?"
"Everyone keeps looking at us."
Harry glanced at Nora briefly. Harry adjusted Leo slightly on his hip.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because they are."
She pointed. Not subtly. A young woman immediately looked away, embarrassed. Nora hid a smile.
"Remy."
"What?"
"You can't point at people."
"Why?"
"Because it's rude."
Remy thought about that. Then she lowered her hand. "But they are looking."
Harry nodded slowly. "They probably recognise me."
"Because you're Harry Styles?"
The way she said it always made Nora laugh. As if Harry Styles and Daddy were somehow two entirely different people.
"Yeah."
"Doesn't everybody know you're Harry Styles?"
"No."
"They should."
Harry laughed. "Thanks for being supportive."
She scooted alongside them for a few moments before going further ahead. Leo, meanwhile, had become distracted by a dog. "Dadda Dog!"
"Looks a bit like Milo, doesn't he?"
"Doggy!"
The dog wagged its tail. Leo nearly fell out of Harry's arms with excitement. Crisis narrowly avoided.
Remy was still thinking. "I don't understand. If everybody knows who you are..."
"They don't."
"But lots of people do."
"Okay."
"Why do they still get excited?"
Harry blinked. Nora looked away because she knew exactly how difficult that question actually was. "Um."
Remy waited while Harry scratched the back of his neck. He didn't have an answer. Nora rescued him. "I think people have music that's important to them."
Remy looked at her. "Like Daddy's music?"
"Like Daddy's music."
"Oh."
"And sometimes when you meet somebody whose music means something to you, it's exciting."
Remy thought about that. "Like if I met Elsa?"
Harry immediately laughed. "Exactly like that."
Remy nodded. Mystery solved. For approximately five minutes. Then they crossed another bridge and somebody asked Harry for a photo. Then another. Then another. And this time Remy watched properly. Noticing how polite everyone was. How happy they looked afterwards. How Harry always asked their names. How he thanked them. How he never seemed annoyed.
When they finally continued walking again, she quietly reached for his free hand. Harry looked down. "You alright?"
"Yeah."
"What're you thinking about?"
Remy shrugged. A minute later Remy finally said, "It must be hard talking to everyone all the time."
The honesty of it caught him slightly off guard. Harry thought about it for a second then squeezer her hand. "Sometimes."
"Leo always wants to talk to me which is nice but sometimes it's annoying."
Remy looked back at the small girl group they'd just passed. And then a minute later she was talking about dragons and whether Amsterdam had secret castles.
By the time they reached the apartment building, everyone was tired. Leo had fallen asleep on Harry's shoulder... Again. His cheek squished against Harry's chest and his little hand curled around the collar of Harry's shirt. Remy was quieter now too, scooter rolling slowly beside her.
Nora slipped her hand into Harry's free one as they climbed the final steps. He squeezed it immediately.
Tomorrow would be another rehearsal. Then another. Then the shows. Then everything that came with that. But for now they were just a family heading home after a day in the park. One sleeping toddler. One tired five-year-old. One famous pop star carrying both his son and the weight of being recognised every few minutes.
──────────────
If Amsterdam had become Remy's favourite city after two days, then the arena became her favourite place after approximately thirty seconds. The moment she stepped out from the tunnel and saw the stage properly, she stopped walking. One hand still holding Nora's. Mouth slightly open.
The arena was empty except for crew, band members, production staff and a few people scattered around the floor preparing for the upcoming shows. But even empty, it was enormous. The stage seemed to stretch forever. Runways. Bridges. Screens. Lighting rigs hanging from the ceiling. The whole thing looked less like a concert stage and more like a small city.
For a moment Remy just stared. Then she gasped. Then she took off running. "DADDY!"
Harry, who was halfway through discussing something with Molly near the front of the stage, turned just in time to see his daughter sprinting across the floor.
"Uh oh."
Jeff looked up. "Oh no."
"DADDY!"
The echo bounced around the empty arena. Every head turned. Remy reached the edge of the stage and immediately threw both arms into the air.
"DADDY THE STAGE IS SO BIIIIIIIIIIIG!" The last word echoed through the building.
Several crew members started laughing. Pauli nearly dropped the coffee he was holding. Jeff bent over entirely. Harry just shook his head. "Morning, bug."
"Daddy!"
"Yeah?"
"The stage is huge!."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"No but really."
"Really?"
"It's bigger than Amsterdam."
Harry looked around theatrically. "Huh."
"Daddy. Be serious."
That only made everyone laugh harder.
Nora arrived a few seconds later carrying Leo on her hip. Leo was significantly less impressed by the stage. He was more interested in stealing Harry's sunglasses. Harry kissed Leo's cheek before glancing at Nora. "You alright?"
"We've been here thirty seconds."
"And?"
"She's already become management."
Right on cue Remy appeared beside Molly. "What's this button do?"
Molly smiled. "Nothing exciting."
"Oh."
"What were you hoping for?"
"Fire."
Harry groaned. "Absolutely not."
Remy looked genuinely disappointed.
The next hour became a perfect example of why Harry simultaneously adored and feared bringing Remy to rehearsals. Because she loved it. Not the fame. Not the attention. Not even really the music. She loved the process and the creation of it. Which, unfortunately for Harry, meant she had opinions. Lots of opinions. And absolutely no filter.
At one point Harry was rehearsing a transition between songs when a small voice suddenly shouted from somewhere near front of house.
"You should spin more."
The music stopped as Harry closed his eyes. Some of the crew started laughing.
"Thank you, Remy."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
"You don't spin enough."
Molly looked down at her notes. "I'll write that down."
Harry pointed at both of them. "You two are a nightmare."
"Constructive criticism," Molly replied.
"She's right but I don't know what that means," Remy agreed.
Later, while Harry was working through movement notes, Remy somehow ended up sitting beside Molly completely convinced she'd joined the creative team. "What's he doing now?" she asked.
"Blocking."
"Oh. What does that mean?"
"We figure out where he walks when he plays different songs."
Remy looked toward the stage. "I could do that."
Molly grinned. "Could you? What would you do?"
Remy pointed immediately. "He should start there. Then run over there and then there."
"Right."
"And then maybe over there."
"Anywhere else?" Molly laughed so hard she had to put her clipboard down.
The best part, though, came later. Because eventually they reached the Dance No More section. The dancers joined Harry as the music started. Music started. The choreography itself wasn't particularly complicated. Walking patterns. Hip circles. Cross steps. A few moments between Harry and the dancers. Simple. Effective. Cool.
Remy stared. Completely transfixed. The song finished and there was silence while they were going through notes. Then—
"Again again again!"
Harry laughed. "No."
One of the dancers crouched beside her. "You like it?"
Remy nodded so aggressively she nearly lost balance. "Can you teach me?"
The dancer was already standing. "Come on then." Remy looked like she'd won the lottery.
For the next ten minutes Harry watched his daughter attempt pieces of choreography while receiving lessons from people who normally danced in front of sixty thousand screaming fans.
The scary thing was she wasn't terrible. Five years old and already naturally musical. Naturally rhythmic. Naturally comfortable performing.
Harry blamed Nora. Nora blamed Harry. Reality suggested they were both responsible.
At one point Remy attempted a cross-step. Missed entirely. Spun herself sideways. Nearly fell but recovered. Then bowed dramatically anyway.
Jeff was crying laughing. "Mate."
"I know."
"That's literally you."
A hour later the energy finally started catching up with everyone. Mainly Leo. Nora had disappeared to one of the dressing rooms nearly half an hour earlier after noticing the warning signs. The eye rubbing. The slower blinking. The random emotional breakdown over a dropped cracker.
Now she sat curled into a couch with Leo asleep on the couch. The room quiet. A television playing silently in the background. For a few minutes she'd simply enjoyed the stillness. Eventually Harry appeared in the doorway carrying two coffees.
"How's my favourite little man?"
"Asleep. He was fighting for his life."
Harry handed her a coffee before crouching beside the couch. For a moment they both just looked at Leo. Then Harry kissed Nora's forehead.
"How's Remy?" Nora immediately laughed.
"Still giving notes."
"I think she told one of your dancers they weren't using enough sparkle."
Harry groaned. "Oh no."
"She's definitely yours."
Watching Remy race around that giant stage all afternoon. Watching her ask questions. Offer opinions. Dance badly and confidently. Talk to strangers like they'd known each other forever. Harry couldn't deny it.
She was so much like him it was occasionally alarming. Not because she wanted attention. Not because she wanted fame. Because she loved performing. Loved creating. Loved making people smile.
The thing about toddlers was that thirty minutes technically counted as a nap. In reality, however, it counted as a personal attack against Nora. She knew it the second Leo woke up. She'd barely gotten comfortable while scrolling through photos she'd taken in the morning, when she heard the familiar I've finished my nap breathing, next to her.
A moment later came a sleepy little voice. "Mumma?"
Nora immediately looked down at Leo and knew. Not enough sleep. Not nearly enough. Leo was awake, yes. But he wasn't rested.
His cheeks were pink. His curls were flattened on one side. His eyes still looked heavy. The sort of awake that should have been another hour.
"Hey baby," Nora said softly, putting her hand through his curls. "That wasn't a very long sleep."
Leo sat up immediately. "Where Remy?"
Nora smiled tiredly. "Remy's with Daddy."
"Go Remy."
And that had been that. Ten minutes later they were back on the arena floor. Which was where Nora's afternoon workout began. Because Leo, despite being exhausted, had somehow found a second wind.
The huge empty arena amplified every noise he made. His little trainers slapped against the floor as he zig-zagged around, Nora jogging after him with the resigned expression of someone who understood this was now her life.
"Mumma run!"
"I'm gonna get you you!"
"Mumma fast!"
Leo screamed with delight. Harry was halfway through a song when he looked over and caught sight of Nora jogging after their son for approximately the fifteenth time. His microphone dropped slightly. He started laughing.
Then Leo spotted Remy. "REMY!" His whole face lit up. Remy was currently standing beside Molly discussing something extremely important regarding choreography. Or at least she thought she was.
"Remy!"
She turned. "Oh. Hi Leo."
"Remy run!"
"No."
"Run!"
"I'm busy."
Leo frowned. Remy pointed toward the stage. "I'm rehearsing."
Nora immediately looked at Harry. Harry immediately looked at Nora. And together, perfectly synchronized, "You're not."Remy frowned dramatically.
When Leo had reached her, he grabbed her leg. "Remy play."
"No, Leo."
"Remy play."
"No."
"Please."
"No."
And that was unfortunately the exact moment everything unravelled. Because tired toddlers only have so much emotional resilience.The lip wobble appeared. Nora saw it instantly. The twitch in the chin. His eyes becoming glassy. And then—
The scream. The big feelings and the too little sleep. The overstimulation and too many people. Too much change.
Remy immediately looked guilty.
"I didn't mean—"
"I know. It's okay," Nora said gently. She was already crouching.Already lifting him and pressing kisses into his warm cheek. "Oh little lion."
Leo buried his face into her shoulder. Crying properly now. "Remyyyy."
"I know, baby."
"Play."
"I know."
Nora rubbed slow circles over his back while he sobbed into her neck. The thing was, it wasn't really about Remy. Not entirely. It was Amsterdam and the apartment. The arena. The schedule. The excitement but also the unfamiliarity. Even good change was still change and Leo had always felt everything deeply.
Eventually his cries softened into light hiccups. Nora shifted him slightly. "Hey little man."
"Mumma."
"Are you tired?"
A little nod. "Yeah. Hungry"
Nora almost laughed because of course every emotional breakdown eventually ended in food.
"I have a Banana or you can have your yoghurt pouch."
"Nana."
Five minutes later she was sitting cross-legged on the arena floor while Leo practically climbed on top of her. One leg draped across her lap. One arm around her neck. Eating banana slices between sniffles. Every so often he'd remember he was upset and let out a dramatic sigh, and then continue eating.
Nora sat quietly with him. Watching the crew move around and watching Harry work. And for the first time all day she felt it.
She wasn't unhappy. She just feels a bit overwhelmed. The adjustment period. Tour life had sounded wonderful when they planned it, and it was wonderful. But it was also a lot. She hadn't done this in years. Not with two children. Not with a five-year-old who wanted to live on stage. And not with a toddler who wanted consistency. Not while trying to make sure Harry had space to work while also trying to enjoy a new city. Not while trying to hold everybody's needs at once.
She loved it. She was grateful for it. But she was also... kind of... already tired. When rehearsal finally broke for a short pause, Harry immediately headed toward them. One look at Leo sprawled across Nora's lap told him enough. One look at Nora told him even more.
"You alright?"
Nora smiled automatically. "Yeah." Pause. "No."
Harry nodded. Leo was now half-asleep against her.
"He's just really fussy today. I don't think he's going to sleep properly here."
"No."
"And honestly..." She hesitated. "I don't know..."
"What?"
"This is just a lot today." The honesty surprised even her. But now she'd started she couldn't stop. "I love being here. And I love that they're getting to experience it."
"I know."
"And I know this tour was literally designed to make it easier for families. But it's still..." She gestured vaguely around the arena. "A lot."
The noise. The people. The stimulation. The responsibility. Harry understood immediately.
"I think maybe I should take them back to the Apartment. See if her can sleep there."
Before he could answer—
"No!"
Remy had apparently overheard enough. She sprinted toward them.
"I don't want to leave. I want to stay."
"Okay."
"I want to twirl."
Harry looked between them. "I've got an idea." Both girls looked at him. "Why don't I keep Remy here?"
Remy's face lit up. "Really really?"
"You take Leo." Harry nodded toward the pram parked nearby. "Put him in there."
"Harry—"
"Go to the park. Go get a coffee."
"Harry."
"Go walk around."
He reached over and squeezed her knee. "We'll meet you afterwards."
Nora studied him. "You sure? Having Remy here?"
"Yeah."
Remy had both hands clasped together dramatically. "Mumma, I'll behave. I'll say please."
"Good."
"And thank you."
"Excellent."
Nora kissed his cheek. Then looked down at Leo who had unfortunately realised what was happening. And unfortunately realised it involved leaving Remy. The crying started again immediately.
"Remyyyy."
"Leo, I will see you later," Remy promised.
"No."
"I promise."
"No."
The meltdown was back. Nora lifted him carefully. "It's okay baby."
"Remyyyy."
"I know."
As she settled him into the pram, Remy walked over and pressed her forehead against his.
"Bye Leo."
"Nooooo!"
"I love you."
Then Remy turned and gave Nora a kiss. "Bye Mumma."
"Bye bug. Have fun."
"You have fun too."
──────────────
As she started rolling the pram toward the exit she glanced back one more time. Harry already had an arm around Remy. Remy was already pointing at the stage.
Opening night always felt strange. Not bad strange. Just charged in a way nothing else ever was. The whole arena seemed to hum differently, as if every cable, every light, every person in black with a headset, every taped mark on the floor knew something enormous was about to happen and was holding its breath for it.
Backstage, everything moved at once. Crew passed through hallways carrying radios and bottles of water and last-minute notes. Someone laughed too loudly somewhere down the corridor. A door opened and music leaked out for half a second before disappearing again. The dull roar of the crowd was already beginning to rise beyond the walls, not loud enough yet to be overwhelming, but present. A reminder. Thousands of people waiting on the other side.
Harry was dressed and ready to go. That was when it started to feel real for Nora. Before that, he could still be Harry in rehearsal clothes. Harry with coffee. Harry with Leo’s sticky handprint on his T-shirt. Harry wandering into catering asking if anyone had seen his phone while his phone was literally in his pocket.
But now he was in the outfit. The first-night outfit. Sharp trousers, blue shirt, jacket waiting nearby, a floral tie that Remy had been obsessed with the second she saw it. Hair done. In-ear pack ready. The full transformation almost complete, though to Nora the funniest part was always that he still looked like her husband underneath all of it. Nervous and beautiful and pretending he wasn’t checking the time every four seconds.
Remy had lost her mind over the outfit when she had seen it during rehearsal and then immediately insisted she needed to match.
Which was why she was now standing in the dressing room wearing a little flowered dress Nora had found in a shop two days before, Converse on her feet, curls clipped back with two little flower barrettes. She kept looking down at herself, then over at Harry, then back down again, like she was confirming their visual connection remained intact.
“We’re matching,” she told him for the sixth time.
Harry looked down at his tie, then at her dress. “We are.”
“Because we’re both performers.”
Nora, who was crouched in front of Leo trying to get his headphones into the tote bag before he could remove them again, looked up immediately. “You are not performing tonight.”
Remy sighed without missing a beat. “I know.”
Leo, entirely uninterested in anything happening right, was busy trying to pull at the hem of his T-shirt. It was a light blue, custom-made for his size, with bold letters across the front that read RESPECT YOUR MOTHER! He wore it with loose little jeans and trainers he’d already tried to remove twice.
Anne, who had flown in that morning and somehow looked more put together than all of them despite travelling, was sitting on the sofa with a bottle of water in one hand and Leo’s spare jumper in the other. “I still think the shirt is brilliant,” she said.
“It's good, right?” Harry replied.
Leo looked down at his chest, patted the lettering, and announced, “Mumma.”
“That’s right,” Nora said, pulling him into her lap and kissing his cheek. “Respect your mother.” Leo grinned, then immediately grabbed her necklace.
“Or don’t,” Harry said mildly.
Nora gently loosened Leo’s fingers from the chain. “I'm so happy you're here,” she said to Anne, meaning it more seriously than the moment probably seemed. “He’s already had two laps of this hallway and tried to get into a guitar case.”
Anne smiled softly. “He’s two. That’s his job.”
Leo wriggled in Nora’s lap to prove the point, trying to twist toward the open dressing room door as if freedom was waiting for him just beyond it. “Run.”
“No more running,” Nora said.
“Run.”
“I said no, Leo.”
Nora lifted Leo and passed him to Anne, who accepted him with the calm competence of someone who had raised Harry Styles and therefore had already survived this exact personality in another form. Leo immediately settled for three seconds, then started trying to climb down her.
“See?” Nora said, standing and brushing her hands down her jeans. “Another set of eyes. Essential.”
Harry’s eyes drifted to her then, properly, and despite everything going on around them, his expression softened. “Your shirt.”
Nora looked down like she’d forgotten what she was wearing. It was black, soft cotton, tucked into loose jeans, and across the front in small cream letters it said MARRIED ALL THE TIME. DISCO OCCASIONALLY.
Harry had laughed so hard when she showed him that morning he’d needed to sit down. Now he looked at it with a slightly different expression. Warmer. A little emotional, which she knew he would deny under oath.
“It’s very good,” he said.
“You only like it because it’s about you.”
“All merch is about me.”
Remy looked between them, suspicious. “What does disco occasionally mean?”
“It means Mummy dances only when she really needs to,” Harry said.
Remy frowned. “That’s not true. Mummy dances in the kitchen all the time.”
For a little while, it stayed light like that. Family chaos folded into show chaos. Leo trying to run, Remy asking if she could see the stage “one more time just to check something,” Harry pretending to be relaxed, Nora quietly making sure she had both pairs of children’s ear defenders in her bag, snacks, water, wipes, spare clothes for Leo, the toy car he’d become attached to that week, Strawberry, and a jumper for Remy even though Remy insisted she would never be cold cause she won't stop dancing even to drink water.
But underneath all of it, Nora could feel Harry’s nerves. They were subtle. They always were, unless you knew him the way she did. The way he kept rolling his shoulders like the jacket wasn’t sitting right, even though it was. The way he glanced at the door when someone passed by. The way he kept taking small sips of water and then forgetting where he’d put the bottle. The way his laughter landed a second too late sometimes.
Opening nights were like that. Harry knew how to perform. If there was one place Harry knew himself, it was on stage. He could do that part in his sleep. He could find a camera, a crowd, a moment. But this was new. New stage. New production. New songs. New transitions. New places to stand. New timing. New pressure. New things that could go wrong in front of thousands of people who had waited months to see it go right.
Excitement and terror wore the same coat on nights like this. Nora knew that by now.
She waited until Remy was distracted showing Anne her matching dress again and Leo was chewing the corner of his toy car before stepping closer to Harry. He looked down at her immediately, like some part of him had been waiting for her.
“Hey,” she said quietly.
“Hey.”
“You okay?”
He smiled automatically. “Yeah.” His smile faded into something more honest. “I’m good. Just…”
“Opening night.”
“Yeah.” He blew out a breath, eyes flicking briefly toward the hallway. “I know it’ll be fine once I’m out there. It always is. It’s just the bit before.”
“The waiting.”
“The waiting,” he agreed. “And the thinking. The stage is massive and there are moving parts everywhere and I keep thinking I’m going to forget where I’m meant to be.”
“You won’t.”
“I might.”
“You won’t.”
He looked at her then, a little smile returning. “You sound very sure.”
“I’ve watched you do this for years.”
“Different show.”
“Same you.”
That landed. She saw it in his face. Nora reached up and straightened his tie even though it didn’t need straightening. “You know what you’re doing. You know the songs. You know the band. You know your body. You know the crowd.” She smoothed her fingers down the tie once, then rested her hand briefly against his chest. “The rest is just first-night noise.”
His eyes softened. “First-night noise.”
“Mm.”
“I like that.”
“You can use it.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll invoice you.”
He laughed quietly, and this time it sounded real. Then Remy appeared beside them without warning, slipping her hand into Harry’s. “Daddy.”
Harry glanced down. “Yeah?”
“If you get nervous, you can look at me.”
Nora’s face softened instantly. Harry’s did too. “Oh yeah?”
Remy nodded seriously. “Because I know the dances now. And when to stop and star singing. And if you forget, I can help from my seat.”
Harry looked at Nora over Remy’s head, eyes shining with amusement and something else. “That’s good to know.”
Remy squeezed his hand. “Also you should spin more.”
“Still?”
“Yes.”
“Noted.”
“And don’t do scared face.”
Harry crouched then, getting down to her level. “Do I look scared?”
Remy studied him with unnerving focus. “A little.”
Nora pressed her lips together. Harry smiled softly. “Yeah?”
“But it’s okay,” Remy said, reaching out to pat his cheek with all the tenderness of someone far older than five. “You can do it scared.”
For a second nobody moved. Even Anne went quiet. Then Leo, sensing an emotional moment and deciding it was unacceptable, shouted, “DADDA SING!”
The room broke apart into laughter. Harry scooped him from Anne’s lap before he could launch himself elsewhere and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek. “I will, mate.”
“Sing go.”
“I should go and sing now?”
A knock came at the dressing room door then. One of the team leaning in gently. “Ten.”
The air shifted. Ten minutes. Nora took in Harry’s face, then Remy’s excitement, then Leo trying to pull at Harry’s in-ear wire, then Anne already reaching for the bag so Nora didn’t have to.
“Right,” Nora said softly. “We should head up.”
“No,” Remy said immediately, though without heat. More like instinct.
“Yes,” Nora said. “Headphones on before we go into the suite.”
Remy groaned. “They make me look like a baby.”
“They protect your ears.”
“My ears are strong.”
“Your ears are five.”
Harry smiled. “Mummy wins that one.”
Remy sighed. “Fine.”
Nora pulled the ear defenders from her bag, little blue ones for Remy, smaller ones for Leo, who immediately tried to pull them off the second they touched his head.
“Leo,” Nora warned gently.
“No.”
“Respect your mother,” Harry said, pointing at the shirt.
Leo looked down at it and then at Nora. He very solemnly said, “No.”
Harry laughed so hard he had to turn away. Nora shook her head. “That shirt was a mistake.”
Anne stood, gathering the bag and Leo’s spare things. “Come on then. Let’s get this show family to their seats.”
Before they left, Harry reached for Nora’s hand. “Wait.”
She looked at him. He looked at the children. Then his mum. Then Nora. “Group hug.”
Remy gasped as if he’d suggested the greatest thing in the world. “YES.”
Leo had no idea what was happening but immediately started yelling, “Hug! Hug!”
So they did it. Right there in the dressing room, ten minutes before opening night, the five of them folding together in the middle of all the noise. Remy pressed between Harry and Nora, arms wrapped around both of them. Leo half between Harry and Anne, one hand grabbing Harry’s jacket. Anne’s arm around Nora’s shoulders. Nora’s hand on the back of Harry’s neck. It was awkward and warm and exactly what he needed.
When they pulled apart, Nora caught his face gently between both hands and kissed him. Not too long. An“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.
Harry’s eyes held hers. “Yeah?”
“Always.”
His smile softened. “Love you.”
“And I love you.”
Remy tugged his sleeve. “I’m proud too.”
Harry kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, creative director.”
Leo patted his cheek. “Dadda go.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, laughing quietly. “Daddy is going go and sing.”
And then they left him there, Nora guiding Remy toward the corridor, Anne carrying Leo, the ear defenders dangling from Nora’s bag until she could wrestle them back onto their heads properly. At the corner, Nora glanced back. Harry was standing in the doorway of the dressing room, nerves still there, excitement too, watching them go.
She lifted her hand. He lifted his. Then Remy shouted down the hallway, “DON'T FORGET TO SPIN MORE, DADDY!”
The thing Nora always forgot about Harry's shows was how quickly the nerves disappeared. One minute he'd be pacing slightly backstage, rolling his shoulders, taking deep breaths and pretending he wasn't nervous. The next he'd step out under the lights and become completely, unmistakably himself.
The suite overlooked the arena perfectly. Not so close that the music swallowed everything, but close enough that Remy felt like she was sitting inside the show itself. The second Harry appeared on stage she was gone. Emotionally. Mentally. Spiritually. Gone.
"DADDY!" The scream escaped her before Nora could stop it.
Luckily twenty thousand other people were screaming too. Curls bouncing. Flower dress twirling. Headphones slightly crooked because she'd already adjusted them fourteen times. "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!"
Harry obviously couldn't hear her but that did not stop her talking to him. She immediately began dancing. The show had barely started and she was already sweating. Meanwhile Leo was doing his absolute best which unfortunately wasn't very much. The poor kid had been awake far too long. The excitement, lights and music had kept him going. But his little body was running out of fuel. He sat in Anne's lap with his enormous ear defenders on, blinking slowly at the stage. Every so often he'd perk up with a "Dadda!", then droop again. One yawn, then another yawn.
Nora took another sip of wine and looked out at the arena. The crowd was loud and the reactions were bigger. Everybody discovering the show together. And Harry... Harry looked happy. The nervousness she'd seen backstage was gone. He looked free.
Halfway through the show, during one of the breaks between songs, Harry wandered toward the front of the stage, looking out into the sea of people. His head moving around... a little smile. Found them. Remy immediately lost her mind. "He sees us!"
Nora laughed. "I think he does."
Remy waved both arms while jumping. "DADDY!"
Harry gave the tiniest wave. The kind nobody else would notice. But Remy did. "He saw me!" She looked ready to pass out from excitement.
The arena quieted. "Hello Amsterdam!"
The crowd screamed. He laughed. "Thank you."
More screaming. Then he took a breath. "I've been away for a little while. And I just want to say thank you. Thank you for still showing up. Thank you for letting me come back and do this. My family and friends are all here tonight."
The scream that followed nearly lifted the roof off the arena. Remy gasped. "Daddy said us."
"Yeah baby."
"Daddy said us!"
"But genuinely," Harry continued, voice warm now, "thank you for being here tonight. Thank you for trusting us with your time. We've worked really hard on this show and we're very excited you're here with us. So let's keep going, yeah?"
The crowd exploded. And just like that he was off again. Running. Dancing. Singing.
The rest of the night disappeared somehow. Songs blurred together. Remy danced through almost every single one. And Leo... Poor Leo. By the final third of the show he was done. Absolutely done. He'd tried but the combination of a skipped nap, excitement, noise and wanting to watch his father perform had finally defeated him. He started whining and then started crying. Nora looked over sympathetically. "Want me to take him?"
Anne shook her head immediately. "No, it's okay." Leo let out another wail. Anne stood. "I'll take the little lion backstage." And just like that they disappeared. Leaving Nora and Remy to finish the show.
By the time the final song rolled around, Remy's energy somehow returned despite it being well past her bedtime. She danced through the ending. Sang every word she knew. Made up the ones she didn't. And when the lights finally came up she looked personally offended it was over. "That's it?"
"That's it."
"But I was still watching."
Nora laughed. "Daddy can't sing all night, Rem."
She gently steered Remy toward the private corridor that would get them backstage before the crowd started moving. By the time they reached the backstage area, Harry was just coming off stage. Sweaty. Flushed. Grinning. Still buzzing with adrenaline. The second Remy spotted him she took off.
"DADDYYYY!"
Harry barely had time to react. One second he was talking to someone from production. The next he had a five-year-old attached to him. He caught her automatically. Lifting her straight into his arms. "There she is!"
"You were so good." She wrapped both arms around his neck. "But you forgot the crab dance."
Harry blinked. "The what? I don't what that is."
"It's when you do this." Remy demonstrated something that looked absolutely nothing like any dance move Harry had ever performed.
Finally Harry set Remy down and immediately reached for Nora. The kiss happened naturally. His hand sliding to the back of her neck. Her hands finding his shoulders. A quick kiss that became a longer one. When they finally separated he rested his forehead briefly against hers.
"Hi. You were brilliant."
"Hi. I was?"
"Yeah."
"Where's Leo?"
Nora laughed. "The lion couldn't be tamed. Your mum took him backstage earlier. He wanted to sleep and he wanted to watch you, but I think sleep won."
Before Harry could answer, Remy had already begun running down the hallway toward the dressing rooms. "REMY," both parents yelled.
She stopped. Turned. "What?"
"Slow down."
"Sorry." Then immediately ran slightly slower.
Harry shook his head. "Not even remotely sorry."
They started walking after her. Crew members congratulated Harry as they passed. Band members appeared and disappeared. The post-show energy buzzed around them. But before they reached the dressing room, Nora stopped. "Hey."
Harry looked down. "What?"
She nodded toward a quieter side corridor. "Come here for a second."
His eyebrows lifted slightly. But he followed. The little room was mostly empty. Storage. Spare equipment. For the first time all night there wasn't anyone else around.
The second the door closed behind them Nora stepped forward. Wrapped both arms around him. Holding on. Harry's arms immediately folded around her waist, pulling her close.
And for a moment neither of them spoke. They just stood there. Harry resting his cheek against her hair. Nora with her face tucked into his neck.
"You are so sweaty," she finally said.
Harry laughed. "Thank you."
"No, genuinely."
"I just played a two-hour show."
He squeezed her tighter. She squeezed back. Then lifted her head slightly. And Harry immediately saw it. The emotion. The pride. The love. Everything she'd been carrying all night.
"You did it," she said softly.
Harry smiled. "So did you."
"No, I didn't."
"Yeah you did."
"I watched."
"You got two children through opening night."
"Barely."
He brushed a piece of hair behind her ear. Nora swallowed, then smiled. "I'm so proud of you, Harry." The words came out quietly. "I love you so much."
His eyes softened immediately. "I love you too." Then he kissed her. When they finally pulled apart he rested his forehead against hers.
"You know what I was thinking about during the speech?"
"What?"
"You."
Nora rolled her eyes. "Liar."
"I'm serious."
"You were not."
"I was."
"Why?"
"Because every time I come back to this..." He gestured vaguely toward the arena beyond the walls. "The only reason I can do it properly is because I know you're all here."
Nora's eyes immediately stung.
"There she goes. Are you crying again?"
"No. Stop it."
"You are."
"I'm not."
"You absolutely are."
Nora shoved his shoulder. Harry laughed and then kissed her forehead.
