Kelsey’s POV:

            I don’t know why I had been so quick to judge Harry. I mean, I had looked at the media and immediately labeled him as an ego-maniac who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself. That was a mistake. When we had gone to that dinner, he kept apologizing for the paparazzi’s rude behavior. Even though it wasn’t his fault and he couldn’t control it, he kept apologizing – which was sweet of him.

            Harry was at the studio again today, so I was by myself. And since I was sitting by myself at the apartment, and had nothing better to do, I got dressed and headed it. I put on my jeans and an oversized sweater – I had a fetish for those – and wore sunglasses before walking out. I knew there was a Starbucks just around the corner, so I walked over there.

            I had grown to like London – a lot. I had always been used to the warm weather, so the cold atmosphere was comforting and I loved it. Plus, whenever I heard someone’s accent, I was over the moon and it made me want to be British. People were all so nice around here, always smiling and pleasant. That’s something my home town didn’t have, unless you were on the good side of some people.

            As I entered the café, the fresh smell of coffee greeted my nose and I smiled. I stood in line and when it was my turn, I got myself a mocha with extra foam, before walking out of Starbucks. As I sipped my drink through the green straw, I looked to my left as people walked and cars drove by. And because of that, I accidently bumped into someone.

            “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry!” I immediately apologize, knowing it was my fault.

            “No worries.” I look to see a girl around my age or a year younger smiling back at me. She then squints her hazel eyes, and then they widen. “No way, you’re Kelsey, right? Harry Styles’ wife?”

            My eyes widen behind my sunglasses, shocked at the fact that this girl actually recognized me. “I.. Uh, um,” I stammered.

            She grins widely. “It is you!” she exclaims in her British accent. “I’m such a big One Direction fan, you have no idea. Can I please get a picture with you?”

            My lips part as I stare at her in wonder. “W-Why would you want a picture with me?” I ask, utterly confused.

            “Because you’re Harry’s wife,” she grins as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. For me, I still wasn’t used to that title. “Please? Just one picture?”

            I bite my bottom lip, but nod. “Sure,” I give her a small smile.

            She squeals in delight before standing in front of me and pulling out her iPhone. I smile next to her as she takes a quick selfie of us, and says, “Thank you so much!”

            “No problem,” I smile, still confused as to what was going on.

            “Well, I best be going,” she smiles and before we walks away, she turns to me and says in a genuine voice, “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

            I couldn’t help but smile slightly as she walked away. She was a fan of the boys’, and she knew who I was. Not to mention, she wasn’t rude to me like I thought the fans would be. In fact, she was sweet and looked sincerely sorry for the death of my mother.

            Yeah, I was beginning to like England.

Harry’s POV:

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