Chapter forty-eight

Neither of us knew where to begin, so instead, we just sat there, Harry holding and kissing my hands. He looked at me as though I’d returned from the dead, or at least escaped it. I didn’t want to ruin this moment, but questions were already forming in my mind and it wasn’t long until I could restrain them no more.

“Why are you here, Harry?” I blurted out.

He stared back at me, stunned into silence at my bluntness.

“Why?” He repeated.

I nodded.

“Your mum called me, said that you were in hospital undergoing emergency surgery and that she couldn’t get down here.” He said. So that was it, I thought to myself, he was doing my parent’s a favour; he didn’t actually care. My heart sunk in my chest and I felt lonely despite his presence.

“They called her?” I asked, irritated, choosing to focus on anything other than his indifference. “I specifically told them not to call anyone.” I skulked.

“Sarah,” Harry started, emphasizing my name. “You were near death, if they’d waited – if you hadn’t been brought around in time–” He stopped short, seemingly at a loss for words. He sighed and hung his head, bringing my hand back up to his lips where he held it for an extended moment. “I should’ve been with you.” He breathed; so quiet I almost couldn’t make the words out. I felt the need to stop him, put him out of his misery. He didn’t need to feel guilty for not babysitting me. If he didn’t love me – and after our encounter at the Brit Awards, it was safe to assume that he didn’t – then I didn’t want him around and I had to tell him so.

“It’s not like we’re together–” I started to say but he cut me off.

“Why didn’t you tell me you thought you were pregnant?” He asked abruptly. That question had me taken aback, but it was one I should’ve expected him to ask.

“Lot’s of reasons,” was all I said. He frowned, unsatisfied. His eyes burned into mine, urging me to answer him for real. I eventually gave in. “It’s not like you’re a great listener, Harry, so you can stop pretending that I had nothing to fear in telling you.”

“You know I would never be upset over this! What does upset me is finding out when it’s nearly too late!” He bellowed before sighing and catching a dirty look from a passing nurse. He ran his free hand through his hair and continued in softer tones. “I had a right to know.”

“I know.” I told him. “And I was going to tell you, after I’d taken the test, I just wasn’t ready for the answer yet. And then you left me.”

He flinched at those last words.

“Sarah,” he lowered his gaze, “I’m so sorry about that. I should have believed – should have just fucking listened to you!” He berated himself.

This sent my head spinning. Did he believe me now? Did he know the truth? What had changed since yesterday? He’d been so resolved in his anger, unflinching in his mindset.

“What?” I asked him.

He met my gaze.

“Eleanor told me everything last night. About how Brian was McAllister’s son, how he came at you at the party, their plan. Everything. And I’m so sorry; you can’t understand how intolerable I find myself. I can’t forgive myself, so I don’t expect you to.” He laughed without humour; it was a tired, broken laugh. The sarcastic laugh of a deflated, weary man.

“You should have just listened to me. We’re supposed to trust each other!” I chastised him.

“I know,” he conceded willingly. “I know, it’s just that I was so caught up in my jealousy, I only saw it from my perspective.”

“Typical.” I said with a roll of my eyes, watching his reaction. His eyes shot up to meet mine.

“I know I’m selfish sometimes, Sarah,” he said suddenly, solemnly. “But don’t you ever – even for a second – think that I ever stopped loving you. I was just hurt.”
I stared at him blankly as his fierce eyes bore into mine, which were utterly lifeless.

“Yesterday. I asked if you loved me.” Was all I said, letting that hang in the air between us.

“I know.” He responded. I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t, so I continued.

“You said you didn’t, you fucking showed up with Kendall Jenner!” I bellowed, my frustration peaking and boiling over.

“No, I never said I didn’t love you!” He retorted just as firmly. I cocked my head to the side. “I admit, showing up with her was a mistake and there was a moronic part of me that wanted to get back at you. But I never said I didn’t love you. I was just too scared to answer, so I ran away.” He grew quiet.

“Nothing says love like retreating from a problem.” I said haughtily. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“I could say the same about you,” he said, pulling my hand closer and sighing. He was right about that. I hadn’t come to him about the “pregnancy”, I’d chosen to flee rather than trust.

“You’re right,” I sighed as the realization hit me. “I guess we’re just really not good for each other.”
I laughed once.

“What?” He frowned as if what I’d said was absolutely incomprehensible to him.

“Harry, we’re no good for each other! We lie, we omit truths, and we have next to no trust! There’s a reason why we’re not together anymore.” I said in a rush and I watched as his face fell. I watched his lips as they fumbled for words. I longed to reach over and kiss him, but I also knew that I had to make an effort to let him go.

“Not together anymore?” He repeated quietly. I just stared at his lips again as they repeated my words. He was clearly as unwilling to accept this as the end as I was, something I found comforting despite all I’d just said. “Maybe you’re right,” he began, and I felt my face fall – fear bubbled within me that he was going to finally bury our future together and I braced myself, ready for impact. “Maybe we’re not good together, maybe we have a lot to learn. Maybe we need people that we can actually trust but you know what? I don’t want somebody else. I want to constantly be guessing what you’re thinking and always find out I’m wrong. I want to feel jealous of every guy that gets even a second of your attention just to feel the relief of knowing that you choose me. I want to fight and argue with a burning intensity that matches the way I love you because despite all odds I do love you. For me, that is enough. And I’m sorry I didn’t say that when you asked yesterday, in fact, I’m even sorrier that I made you ask it in the first place, but it’s the truth. I know this isn’t the first time I’ve said all this to you,” he said earnestly and I immediately thought back to New Years when he’d shown up at my door – out of the blue and just as sincere, “but if I have to make a million more grand apologies like this in my lifetime, I gladly will – so long as I get to spend this lifetime with you and no one else. I love you, Sarah Wilson, I love you.” He smiled as though a great burden had just been relieved from his chest.

My heart leapt out of its chest as I felt the magnitude of his words sink in. And I knew, with every fibre of my being, that he was right. It didn’t matter if he got on my nerves more than any other soul in the universe – he only had that power over me because I cared about him so deeply. My eyes were welling with tears. After weeks of emptiness, day after day of absolute sorrow crushing down on me, the elation I felt was overwhelming and shocked my system.

“Harry,” was all I said. Was all I could think to say! But the way I said his name, the way my lips formed the syllables was different; I kissed the consonants and caressed the vowels. My eyes raked over his features and rejoiced, knowing once again that he belonged to me. Something in his eyes changed and suddenly his lips pressed to mine, gently so as not to shuffle my body and cause me pain, but with an intensity that made me long for more. Thanks to the heart monitor that was attached to me, this longing was audible and when he pulled away, my face cupped in his enormous hand, he knowingly smiled deep into my eyes, penetrating my soul.

“You’ve got that look,” he smiled, sweeping my hair behind my ear.

“What look?” I smiled back as he kissed the tip of my nose before answering. He seemed to be reminiscing.

“The same look as when you asked me to dance with you back in year six; the look I fell in love with.” He said sincerely. I smiled too, running my hand through his hair.

“I can’t remember a time when I haven’t loved you,” I said honestly. Even before I’d realised I was in love with him, Harry had always had my heart in some shape or form.

“That’s because you’re my best friend,” he whispered thoughtfully. “I just forgot that,” he continued, analysing my face, “somewhere along the way, I forgot how to treat you. I drove you away, took you for granted, and I’m so sorry and so angry at myself.”

“No,” I told him, taking his chin in my hands and forcing him to look at me. “We’ve both made mistakes, but you can’t obsess over them. Maybe we’re not the greatest at trust, but we’re the best at forgiveness. I forgive you because I’m so in love with you.” I smiled at him.

“There’s nothing that could make me not love you.” He said before pausing to think. “I might act like a little bitch about some of the things you do, but that’s only because of how much I love you.” He added, instantly lightening the mood and causing us both to laugh. He kissed my smile which was unwavering. Its permanence caused my cheeks to ache but there was no way of removing it; I was so incandescently happy.

“Excuse me, Miss. Wilson?” A young nurse entered the door.

“Yes?” I asked her and Harry pulled away, only slightly, trying to seem a little more polite and reciprocating of company even though I could tell it was done reluctantly.

“Your friends are really very anxious to come in, can I send them?” She asked. I pictured Niall’s complaints of hospital food, El’s frantic worrying, and Dani’s utter pushiness and completely understood her desire to be rid of them.

“Of course,” I laughed, “send them in.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth and all seven of them were piling through the door before the nurse shut it firmly behind them.

“Oh my, God, Sarah,” they chorused. The room was full of statements such as: “We were so worried!” and “What happened?” or “Thank God you’re okay!”

“Calm down everybody!” Harry bellowed eventually, but happily, getting them to quiet down. “She just came out of surgery, so can we all relax and keep her calm? She needs to heal still.” He explained as if he were speaking to a room full of children.

“Well, look whose being all protective and boyfriend-like,” Louis said, winking in my direction.

“Does this mean the happy couple is – well – a couple again?” Dani asked convolutedly and Harry and I shared a look. Everybody noticed of course, causing them all to laugh excitedly.

“This is such a great day!” El gushed. Everyone looked to her in confusion and shock. “Oh,” she said realizing why we were looking at her so strangely. “Minus your emergency, Sarah, of course. But we’re all together again.” We all laughed again.

“Yes, we are,” Harry repeated, smiling down at me and squeezing my hand.

Everyone began to chatter at once, all of it unintelligible to my tired ears, and so I tuned it out and looked upon everyone lovingly. Zayn was holding Perrie in his arms by the window as Louis and Dani were complaining about the hospital staff’s behaviour. Niall was shovelling back a plate of cafeteria food in between complaints about said food. Liam was sitting at my feet with El, both looking tired but utterly relieved, as neither had probably slept at all; they both worried far too much for their own good. They were like the parents of the group. And then there was Harry. He just sat there, holding my hand, and stared at me lovingly as we were enveloped by the conversations of our friends who were all lovely and cared about me so much, that they spent the night in a dingy hospital waiting room instead of their own comfortable beds. Their love reminded me of something, another act of love a couple weeks ago.

“Oh Zayn,” I called out and everyone went silent at the sound of my voice even though it was so quiet.

“Yeah, love?” He responded.

“I made a promise to tell you something.”

“Oh?” He asked, looking surprised.

“Ben says ‘Hi’.” I said. Everyone looked around, confused, but Zayn just smiled and nodded knowingly. Harry gave me a look, but didn’t press anything, probably not wanting to bother me in my present condition. But Zayn knew that I was saying more than just ‘Hi’ on behalf of an acquaintance of his; I was saying thank you. He’d tried to look after me when I’d been at my lowest, sending someone to help me when I ran out of petrol. But it was more than just him calling a tow truck, it was the gesture of a friend. I was saying thank you for caring.

Notes

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