George | a harry styles story

one - prologue

"I'm pregnant," I blurted out, making the man in front of me look up from his phone and meet my eyes. He didn't show any emotion, not any at all. 

Hesitantly, he picked up his bag from the floor and threw it over his shoulder. He put his phone in his pocket and looked down, saying quietly, "You'll get an abortion, right?" 

At first, I wasn't even sure I had heard him correctly. But when I realized I had, I felt disappointed. "Harry, of course I'm not..." 

"You do realize that we are not capable of taking care of a baby?" he asked, looking up again. "We are eighteen years old, for goodness sake! I'm a full time artist now, Rose. And you don't even have a degree, which means you can't get a job and even be able to provide for the baby."

"As you said, I am eighteen." I said. "No, I don't have a degree, but that's because I have just finished school. You know my plans about taking a year off and applying to university next year..." 

"So, what's your plan then?" he asked. "Rely on me to pay for everything for this damn child? Sorry, but that's not happening. You have to get an abortion. We are not having this baby."

"How come you get the final say in this?" 

"Because I'm the one who'll have to end up paying for everything!" he shouted, gaining the attention of some people around us. "With you not having a job, there's not exactly anyone else who can pay, is it?" 

"That's really what you think?" I asked. "That I'm not capable of earning any money? That I'm always relying on you to pay for everything?" 

"Yes," he replied, dead serious. 

"Piss off." I muttered. "Don't bother calling me when your plane lands. And don't worry, your 'gold digger' girlfriend will be long gone by then, and you'll have your flat all by yourself again. Sounds to me like that's what you want anyways..." 

I muttered the last bit. 

"I never called you a gold digger." he said. 

"But that's what you were thinking, wasn't it?" 

He didn't reply, so I turned around and walked away, exiting the airport. I didn't turn around to look at him at all, I kept on walking with my head held high, making a mental promise to myself to not let him know how much what he'd said had hurt me. 

Eight months after that day, I welcomed my son into the world. I had my Mum, Dad, and sister Clara beside me, keeping my mind of the man who left me, left us. Having those three people with me helped me getting over Harry, to the point where I didn't care about him anymore. 

I named the boy George Edward, after my two grandfathers. At first, I hesitated about giving him Edward as a middle name considering it was George's father's middle name as well, but I wanted to honor my late grandfather and went with the name.

After George's first birthday, I signed up for online classes. I would finally be able to get my Bachelor of Education degree, which I'd been dreaming of since I was in my eighth year of school. 

Another year passed, and George was becoming more like his father. By his appearance, at least. George's hair was the same light brown colour his father's hair was at the same age. George also had the same green eyes, the same cherry lips and the same nose. He was like a little clone of his father, making it no doubt in the world whose son he was. 

Yet another year went by, and that was when George discovered how fun it was to sing. I constantly heard his voice singing songs he'd heard on the radio when we were driving and songs I would sing to him before he went to sleep every night. 

I enjoyed hearing him sing, until the day he hummed one of his father's band's songs. We'd listened to it on the radio a couple of times, but it never crossed my mind that my son was listening to his father's voice, without even knowing it was him, without knowing it was the voice of the man who once left us. 

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Thank you so much if you're reading this book! 

- m i a h.