The Boy That Saved My Life (Harry Styles Fanfic)

Ch.25

(EMMA'S POV) - A FEW YEARS LATER

"Harry! Come quick!"

Moments later, I heard the thumps of his footsteps coming closer and closer until he entered the bedroom. I frantically looked up at Harry, the light smudges of yellow paint on his face calming me down a bit.

He rushed over, kneeling on the floor next to me as I sat on the bed, clutching my stomach. "What's wrong?"

In the midst of everything, I was too overcome to speak yet. My hand clutched onto Harry's larger one and slowly dragged it to the obtruding bump of my stomach. I held it there for a moment, taking the time to catch my breath. "It just kicked."

Within a matter of seconds, Harry's face went from anxious and scared to overjoyed and ecstatic. I started giggling as I studied his face- he had the silliest smile, his eyes were glowing extra bright. He looked like a child again. How ironic.

The moment the five year mark came for being cancer free, Harry and I immediately started trying to get me pregnant. For the first few months, nothing happened. We tried so hard (literally), but every time, the tests always said negative. It came to the point where we decided to take a break for a bit, trying to convince ourselves that the time just wasn't right. A week later, I was pregnant. When I moved in with Harry, he put my bucket list in a frame and hung it in our room, always awaiting the day when we could check the last objective. The minute we found out I was pregnant, Harry was ready to whip the paper out and cross number seven off, but I forced him to refrain. Four months later and here I was, sitting on my bed as the love of my life and I smiled goofily at the fact that there was actually a living child inside of me.

After five minutes of us both staring at my convex belly, Harry stood up. "Want to see the nursery?"

Ever since I became pregnant, Harry has took it upon himself to baby-proof the house; first he put safety guards in all of the unused outlets, then he replaced any furniture that had sharp edges with less harmful ones. Now, he has been completely enthralled in creating the perfect room for our little one. For the past two months, most of Harry's time was being spent in the room that was previously the guest bedroom. He told me that I couldn't see it until he was done, and despite all of my begging, complaining, and persuading kisses, he still stuck to his guns. The only thing I was allowed to know was the wall color: yellow, because it is for both boys and girls, and we didn't want to know the gender.

I nodded excitedly, and Harry helped me off the bed. We slowly walked down the long hallway of our flat, one of my hands bonded with Harry's, the other resting on my stomach, guarding the precious angel inside. When we finally made it to the door, I looked over at Harry, just to confirm that he was ready for me to see it.

"Go ahead," he approved, motioning to the door handle.

I took a deep breath and latched my hand to the grip, slowly turning. When I saw the room, my mouth dropped to the floor.