I hurriedly grab the bag from the passenger seat of my car after parking in my familiar spot. My alarm didn't go off this morning so I'm running late for work, Emma also messaged me last night and told me to pack her a few things for when I visit her after work, so I was late doing that too.
My legs race as quickly as they can, carrying me through the crowd of fans as I run into the intimidatingly tall building, it's size towering over me as I enter. The fans cry out with condolences and apologies to mine and Emma's situation, that's all people talk about nowadays.
Emma is a well-known and beloved British actress having won multiple awards and achievements for her acting, she's known all over the world now and everyone is saddened by our news. My fans apologised to her when they found out, all of them sending cards and gifts to us in hopes to lift our spirits.
Most of the cards did actually, we only read a few before the nurse came in and informed me that visiting time was over and I had to leave. It's painful every time I have to leave Emma, because I never know if it's going to be the last; she isn't thinking straight lately and I never know if it'll be the last time I see her, she's just so effected by all of this.
What happened to Emma is tragic and one of the worst possible things that could happen to someone who bares a child. I know you're all probably wondering, 'Harry you're going through this as well, it was your baby too', and yes, you'd be right; but for the short two months that Emma was pregnant for, she had a connection with the unborn child that I could never understand.
I can't even begin to imagine the pain and heartbreak she must be going through, she reminds me every single day of how sorry she is and how much she hates herself for what she's done. Her frail mind has been corrupted by the constant torture she puts herself through and no matter what I say, or what I do, she struggles to listen to the truth; that this, none of this, is her fault.
Although, I suppose that's what PPD is, a form of depression for women after the birth or loss of a child, and in no way will I ever be able to comprehend what she is going through; but I will stay by her side, as her husband, her partner, and her best friend, I will be there right beside her until she gets better again. That's all I want, for her to smile like she used to, knowing that she is happy again.
Coming back to reality, my hands slam against the door leading to where the rest of the lads and crew are waiting patiently for my late arrival. I'm very grateful to have them all around me, they've been really understanding about everything and give me time to catch my breath, which I really appreciate.
However, the lads haven't apologised to Emma yet, for how they treated her during this whole ordeal. I know they were just protecting me and looking out for me, but their actions were just as cruel, and I know that I'm the worst of all, but I'll be spending the rest of my life making it up to Emma; whereas the lads don't get that novelty. In all fairness though, they haven't really had the time. With Emma being in the clinic and us working every single day, it's hard to get an opportunity for them to talk to her.
Both Emma and I understand this. Although, she needs reassurance that they don't hate her and they were just looking out for me, everything that's been said to her over this last month she's taken to heart and it's been destroying her slowly from the inside outwards.
"Sorry I'm late." I excuse myself as I take my phone and keys out of my pocket, placing Emma's bag onto the floor beside the rest of the lads belongings. "My alarm didn't go off this morning." I mumble tiredly, wiping the crusting sleep from the corner of my eye.
"It's alright mate." Zayn sends me a small and fairly sorrowful smile, it not entirely reaching his eyes.
I remain quiet throughout the entire rehearsal. Singing my parts as best as I can and trying to focus on work instead of worrying about my personal life. However, it's hard to separate the two. Everyone is so eager to know about the situation, and it's a subject that I can't escape from no matter how hard I try to forget about it; the guilt eats away at me.
