Chapter 29

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The first thing I do when I see the result is throw up. When that's over, I try to stand up but my knees buckle and I fall to the ground. So instead I just sit there on the bathroom floor. All I can feel is pure and utter shock. For a good minute I sit there, silent and unmoving.

And then my senses come flooding back. I clamber to my feet and bring a fist against the sink, before every tear I've ever held back pours out, collecting in loud, grotesque, desperate sobs. I hit my head against the mirror and pound on it repeatedly, my fists motivated by a monstrous combination of anger, fear, sadness, and disbelief. I seem to forget that Harry is right outside, because I grab an enormous fluffy bath towel, press my face into it, and release a muffled, bawling scream.

Within seconds the towel is stained with tears and makeup, and I throw it as hard as I can against the ground, before jumping onto it and stamping with all my might. I slam my back up against the wall of the bathroom, sliding down it and wailing at the top of my lungs as I hit the ground again.

Somewhere among this screaming and stamping and crying, I grasp what an over the top idiot I'm being. I loosen my jaw and take three deep breaths in an effort to compose myself. I toss the pregnancy test into the bin, picking up the towel and hanging it up. I turn on the tap and the sound of the cold water running soothes me, as I pull my hair, damp with sweat, out of my face.

After splashing some icy water on my face I feel like I'm ready to think properly again. I wait for my heartbeat to slow down, then clear my throat.

"You- you'll be okay. Harry is super supportive. Things always turn out fine."

I whisper to myself.

"Be thankful that it can't be Adam's baby. Come on, it'll be okay."

I try for a small smile when telling myself this.

By the time I exit the bathroom, my spirits have somewhat lifted and the feeling of crushing despair has left my shoulders. Harry's snoozing body, rising and falling with steady breaths, welcomes me under the satiny blankets.

* * *

Harry groans from under the sheets as I yank open the curtain, bathing the room in bright sunlight. It's a cloudless morning, and I glance through the wall-sized window at the vast skyline. After throwing on an oversized plaid shirt and leggings, I manage to get Harry to open his eyes slightly, and plant a heartfelt kiss on his forehead before heading to the kettle to make two cups of tea.

Harry:

The sun begins to set after an uneventful day of lounging around and I now sit impatiently on the bed, yawning loudly as Taylor touches up her makeup for the seven hundredth time, getting properly dressed up to meet Cara at a cafe nearby.

"You know, I've never understood why you wear makeup. I mean, you look ugly with or without it."

I joke, but instead of a light-hearted laugh like I was expecting, I receive a rough kick to an area that probably shouldn't be receiving kicks at any point. I groan and double over dramatically. Of course, Taylor simply ignores this, and finishes applying her red lipstick, then raises her eyebrows, and strolls out of the bedroom.

After recovering, I follow her sneakily, watching as her long legs stride across the room, reaching the door and turning to me.

"Right, Harry. Try not to eat, lose or break anything too important while I'm gone, okay? I'll be back well before 9 so order something for dinner if you need to."

I pout at her, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe grumpily.

"But I'm gonna be so bored."

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