#tr16

Soph sat very, very still, huddled in her plastic armchair. She was surrounded by happy, laughing couples – reading parenting magazines, looking at panflets, just... Being near each other.

She was going to puke on their faces.

“Mr and Mrs Malik?”

Soph looked up at the balding, friendly looking man in front of them, who slightly resembled an Irish Buddha. Well, he didn’t look like he was going to rip out her baby and feed it to her, so she felt slightly reassured.

Zayn awkwardly shuffled up out of his seat, coughing and tracing his tattoos with his fingertips. Soph fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. Really? He was the nervous one? Well, he wasn’t the one pregnant. The one who didn’t even know how long she’d been pregnant for.

“Please, both of you, take a seat.” Irish Buddha – or, as his office door said, Doctor O’Sullivan – smiled, closing the door behind them. Zayn hovered on his feet for a moment, Soph brushing past him to sit beside the doctor. “Soph, how are you?”

“Not patient enough to have small talk, when you have my test results.” Soph told him bluntly, making the doctor laugh. Isolde had told him about Soph’s no-nonsense attitude. “Now, if you don’t mind...?”

“Yes, of course.” Doctor O’Sullivan smiled, glancing up at where Zayn was still hovering nervously by the door. “Would you like to take a seat?”

Zayn looked bewildered.

“I, uh, um, I’d rather-”

“You don’t have to be here.” Soph said dismissively, barely glancing Zayn’s way.

Zayn seemed to watch her for blankly for a moment, clearly considering his options, before hastily dropping himself down in the small armchair beside Soph.

Soph physically bit on the tip of her tongue, hard, as a way to release her anger.

“Now, Soph, before we go on, I’d like to ask you not to panic. From what you’ve told me about your previous bleeding, we have nothing to worry about it.”

Soph looked at Doctor O’Sullivan liked he needed his head examined. That was not the way to calm somebody down.

“Why, what’s wrong?” Zayn asked, looking suspicious.

Doctor O’Sullivan regarded them both seriously.

“Well, let’s start with the basics, shall we?” Doctor O’Sullivan said after an awkward silence, faltering slightly. “Soph... You’re seven weeks pregnant.”

It felt as Soph had heard it while being underwater – Doctor O’Sullivan’s words were just noise, lost under what felt like a car crashing speeding towards a brick wall in her head. No. That wasn’t possible. She couldn’t have possibly...

The car hit the wall.

“Seven weeks?” Soph’s voice managed to sound hoarse and shrieked at the same time, staring at Doctor O’Sullivan with incredulity. “I – how is that even – seven weeks is just-”

“You said you skipped a cycle?” Doctor O’Sullivan asked gently, seeming sympathetic to the fact that Soph was looking down at her stomach as if she’d just found out a bomb were in it. Soph nodded numbly, Zayn looking like he’d just been whacked in the face with a brick. “That was the month when your egg was fertilised. And you said your last period was extremely light? Barely spotting, but still bright red?”

Zayn suddenly became very interested in the floor as Soph slowly nodded, her eyes wide and with a faraway look in them. She tried to count back seven weeks. Where had she even been seven weeks ago? Touring yes, but where? How could she not know the place where her child had been born?

Yes, born. As far as Soph was concerned, a baby at conception was still a baby. There were still grey parts of her belief – the scientific definition of a child within the womb, Soph’s agreement with legal limitations and such – but to her, life was life. How could she not know when her future child’s journey to being a person had truly begun?

Then again, Soph thought bitterly to herself. It wasn’t like she’d been expecting to have to worry about it so soon, was it?

“Which brings me to the no-panicking part of our conversation.” Doctor O’Sullivan smiled kindly. Having a man obstetrician wasn’t as awkward as she had always imagined it would be, Soph thought dully. Doctor O’Sullivan seemed to hesitate for a moment, his eyes flickering between Soph and Zayn. The chairs were fairly close beside each other and although Soph and Zayn hadn’t moved away from one another, there was still space between them. “Soph, dearest... The fact that you bled before hitting the general safe benchmark, which is-”

“Twelve weeks.” Soph said suddenly, looking surprised at her answer. She looked up at Doctor O’Sullivan, as if she were concentrating. “I... I remember from when Adam was born. It’s twelve weeks, isn’t it?”

Doctor O’Sullivan nodded.

“Yes.” He said slowly. “Soph, if you’re bleeding during your first twelve weeks, then-”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” Soph felt something lodge in her throat, but she couldn’t decisively label it as fear. She still felt too numb for that. “If I’m bleeding before twelve weeks? Then there’s something wrong?”

“Sophia,” Hearing her full name, Zayn and Soph both started slightly. “We don’t know for sure yet, but in medical terms... We call it – we have to call it – well...We have to call it a threatened miscarriage.”

The confused, almost pained expression on Soph’s face cleared – but not into something relaxed, as even Soph had been expecting. She felt her face go... Blank.

And even more surprisingly, she saw Zayn do the same, too.

“And what the Hell is a threatened miscarriage?” Zayn asked in a low, scary voice, his hand snaking to Soph’s and interlacing his fingers with hers.

For a moment, Soph forgot about Doctor Marcus O’Sullivan.

It had been a difficult few days, especially considering Soph was pregnant on top of all things else. For almost four nights, Soph had made one excuse after another to avoid being left alone with Zayn. When she’d returned from her crying jag in the alleyway with Rose, Zayn had been waiting for her at their hotel room – and had, it seemed to Soph, been under the impression that a few butterfly kisses to the neck and a couple of descriptive whispers would be enough to erase Soph’s findings from her mind.

It hadn’t been.

First of all, Zayn had refused to talk about Dianna. When his plan of seduction had failed, he had proceeded to grow moody and tell – not request – Soph to mention it to him no further. Of course, Soph hadn’t listened. Why had Zayn lied to her about being stabbed? He’d told her he couldn’t remember anything. Why had he been covering Dianna’s tracks from the start?

Zayn had simply told her he wasn’t going to argue with her and left.

Soph had been sleeping in Rose’s room since.

She’d kept it a secret from the others and it had suited Rose well – after all, she was avoiding Harry like the plague – and, as Zayn seemed unwilling to mention it to his friends, it was a secret well kept.

Of course, until Rose and Soph visited Isolde.

Although the rest of the boys were still frequent visitors to the hospital, Rose and Soph found themselves with Isolde more and more. She hated being stuck in bed all day, particularly when Alanna was sleeping – and, she’d told them, she refused to rest and then be surprised to find it exhausting to handle Alanna by herself in the future. No, she wanted to get into the routine of being a mother right away. It was odd, to see Isolde so soft with Alanna, yet so fierce about her. It was a fierceness that Rose admired; but one that Soph currently hated.

Isolde had instantly picked up from Zayn’s sullen expression and Soph’s carefully blank one that something was wrong. It hadn’t taken much to push the test results out of Soph – after all, if anybody were educated in young pregnancy, it was Isolde.

That was when Isolde had arranged Soph a meeting with Doctor O’Sullivan... And told her that she had to tell Zayn.

Isolde had been surprisingly kind about it, which Rose personally felt had affected Soph more than anything. It would have been easier for Isolde to be brash and demanding – and, therefore, for Soph to retaliate just as hot-headedly and disregard Isolde’s opinion. But Isolde had been gentle, logical and considerate... All things Soph couldn’t ignore.

So Soph had told him.

Zayn hadn’t had the best reaction in the world. In fact, far from it.

He’d thought Soph had been joking at first, acting as if it were something scary to joke about it. But then... Then there had been Soph’s silence, as Zayn waited for the punch-line that would never come.

He’d been angry, then. Asking how this could have happened, when Soph had told him she was taking the pill. How could she have forgotten to get more? How could she have been too busy? He’d been working! What, was he expected to remember? Niall had just fathered a child, management probably wasn’t going to be happy with the idea that Zayn was becoming a family man!

That had angered Soph. A family man? He’d changed his image once he’d married her! Soph had forced out in disbelief.

Zayn must have realized what he’d said after that, because he’d gone forward to apologize... And even though Soph had pulled away as he went to touch her arm, he’d explained that it was a lot to take in. After all, he wasn’t exactly father material, was he? He’d always wanted children, of course, but how could Soph not have known she was pregnant?

Considering she was a mixture of fuming and wanting to cry, that they had barely even begun to resolve the permanent irritation that was Dianna and that she was clueless as to how pregnant she was, Soph didn’t bother mentioning the scare the month before.

Soph had awkwardly told Zayn about the doctor’s appointment and Zayn had simply quietly nodded, surprising her in the hotel reception when she had forlornly been on her way out. They’d gone to the hospital in silence.

But yet, as Soph snuck a sideways glance at their intertwined fingers and watched Zayn’s oddly determined expression, she felt... Well, safe? Looked after? Whatever it was, she felt better, somehow.

His messy black hair was stuck up all over the place, as if he hadn’t slept, and Soph could see where he hadn’t shaved properly. He was in a thin T-shirt and a fur-lined jacket, his jeans and trainers worn and dishevelled. He looked... Well, like the Zayn she knew. The one she’d married, the one who spoke the truth almost too often and would hold her, not just try and grope her at every opportunity.

Doubt flickered through Soph’s mind. Was she being harsh on him for being so... Sexual? It was all he knew. To him, sex probably did work to fix an argument. Relationships in general were an alien concept to her. Maybe she was just being... Conservative, perhaps?

A small voice in the back of her brain told her conservatism wasn’t something instinctive, but Soph ignored it, focusing on the warmth and strength of Zayn’s hand instead.

“A threatened miscarriage isn’t necessarily a miscarriage.” Doctor O’Sullivan told them hastily. “It’s just simply... Well, Soph, the fact you bled at all is something to be aware of. A lot of women bleed during pregnancy and give birth perfectly fine, but given your level of fertility at your age and your family history-”

“What family history?” Zayn frowned.

Doctor O’Sullivan hesitated, looking to Soph for direction.

“My mum’s side of the family doesn’t have the greatest medical history, as far as pregnancy is concerned.” Soph mumbled, rubbing her eyes with her spare hand. “Mum miscarried four times before having Adam and her mother’s history is even worse.”

Zayn’s eyes hardened slightly.

“Combined with your lifestyle – your like for caffeine, the fact you’ve been on the road, your exposure to smoke-”

“I don’t smoke in front of her.” Zayn told Doctor O’Sullivan, sounding slightly irritable. He pulled his hand away from Soph’s, causing Soph to glance up at him with hidden hurt.

“You don’t need to, she’d smell it on your clothes, sometimes without realizing.” Doctor O’Sullivan replied almost dismissively, Zayn flustering for a moment. The doctor turned back to Soph, who was watching her hand curiously. It hadn’t moved from where Zayn had been holding it on the arm-rest. “Soph, I need you to be very careful, alright, dearest? Plenty of rest, plenty of fresh air...” Zayn tensed as Doctor O’Sullivan faced him sternly. “No stress.”

“And if I were already under stress, or something similar?” Soph asked quietly, tearing her eyes away from her open hand.

Doctor O’Sullivan considered Soph seriously. Isolde had told him about her. He wished he could do more than simply throw out medical terms at her and give generic instructions.

“In this particular case, I think it would be safe to predict a complete miscarriage.” Doctor O’Sullivan replied seriously, his voice solemn. Soph stared back at him, her eyes full of something Doctor O’Sullivan couldn’t quite place. “You’d bleed the foetus out.”

  “Rose?” Harry called out tentatively, knocking hesitantly on her bedroom door. Her suite door had been open. “Hello?”

Hearing no reply, Harry stepped inside, only to be welcomed with the sound of water running from the general direction of the bathroom.

He hadn’t meant to stay, but...

Well, there it had been, sitting happily on the sofa.

Penny the pink Care Bear.

Harry was temporarily transported almost a year back – he was at a funfair with the boys, Soph and Rose, wrestling with a claw machine...

Harry sat down gently on the sofa, picking up the teddy and looking at it seriously. Alright, so Niall had technically won it, but as far as Harry was concerned, it was a symbol of when he and Rose hadn’t actually been “he and Rose”, but... Well, something easier, something simpler.

For a moment, Harry allowed himself to replay the scene... The way he wanted it to go.

Harry was frowning seriously at the claw-machine, Rose’s arms wrapped around his waist from behind him and her chin resting on his shoulder. He’d fight and fight with the machine but to no avail, until eventually Rose tried herself – and she’d laugh as she won, before kissing him on the lips...

Harry went to throw the Care Bear back onto the sofa as he stood, but something – specifically, a white corner of paper sticking out of the battery zip – stopped him.

Harry slowly sat back down, pulling down the zip, feeling conflicted.

The paper was crumpled and soft to the touch, in the way only something old could feel. Slowly and particularly careful not to rip any edges, Harry slowly unfolded the paper.

The first thing Harry noticed was Rose’s handwriting, scrawled across the neat, printed font of the page. It seemed to be a list of sorts – and, over the years, had notes scribbled across various lines, some crossed out, others underlined, others simply with random symbols as if to highlight something. Harry’s eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Penny was relatively young in terms of being Rose’s bedfellow (strangely, Harry felt a strange surge of jealousy at that idea), but this list seemed older. Much older.

Harry wondered if Rose keeping Penny the Pink Care Bear as her own type of vault, was meaningful in any way. He’d have to ask someone.

Harry was just about to fold the piece of paper up again, convinced it was some sort of bucket list that he really shouldn’t be reading, when the item labelled twenty-four on the paper caught his attention.

24) He sends me every type of rose to cheer me up – even though I’m his favourite!

Harry sat up. Wait. If this was what he thought this was...

Harry continued reading, his eyes not moving fast enough across the page for his liking. This was a goldmine – everything and more that Harry could have possibly asked for.

This was a list of things the man of Rose’s dreams would do.

And, of course, that was the exact moment that Harry realized the shower had stopped running, and the sound of dripping water was eerily close to him.

Harry looked up, expecting to find a furious Rose – but instead, Harry found an amused Eddie Cartwright.

  “I better go, if I want to meet Dianna on time.” Zayn’s eyes quickly scanned Soph’s impassive face. “I can give you a lift to the hotel, if you need-”

“That’s alright, I have some forms to fill out and whatnot anyway.” Soph replied casually, shrugging. “Nothing interesting. I’ll catch a cab when I’m done, or something.”

Zayn hesitated, but nodded, all the same.

“I just wanted to talk to Dianna before we got back.” Zayn felt himself began to ramble, despite believing he had no reason to justify his actions. “She knows about pregnancy and stuff, she-”

“She knows I’m pregnant?” Soph heard herself ask sharply. Zayn blinked at the aggression in her voice. Soph reminded herself to stay calm. “But...” Soph thought for a moment, proud of her newly subdued tone. “I thought you didn’t want anybody to know? Not even Rose, or the boys?”

“It’s not your job to tell the boys and you can tell Rose what you want, I’m not stopping you.” Zayn said rudely, both his and Soph’s eyes widening at how abrupt he’d suddenly become. “I have to go.” Zayn mumbled, feeling stupid, before heading for the exit.

They hadn’t said much to one another, since the news – and the conversation they’d just had pretty much reflected the small snippets of conversation that they hadpartaken in. Honestly, Zayn didn’t know what to say. Ever since Soph had told him she was pregnant, his mind had just been sort of... Blank. Numb, even. Initially, he’d felt bad for even considering it, but... What if Soph had deliberately gotten pregnant? Just to tie him down? After all, Zayn had been meeting up with Dianna for a while now, that could have been ammunition...

 “Bye.” Soph mumbled, as Zayn shoved his hands into his pockets and left.

Soph stood there for a few moments, drowning out the noise of the hospital and watching the spot by the exit, where Zayn had been just a moment ago.

This was all wrong. This was all so wrong.

In all honesty, Soph wasn’t that surprised at the fact her pregnancy had so many complications. Her lifestyle wasn’t very healthy – it hadn’t been wonderful before, either, but at least before getting married, she hadn’t been sleeping with a walking chimney.

Soph forced herself to snap out of it. No. She had other things to focus on.

Sending a quick text, Soph sat patiently in one of the nearby armchairs, twiddling her thumbs.

Adam had called her earlier today. Somehow, he’d known something was wrong before Soph had even spoken – and although she hadn’t mentioned that she was pregnant – had took it upon himself to console her. Wasn’t that sad? That her little brother, who didn’t have a clue as to what was really going on, was doing everything he could to make her feel better – when her husband, who she was meant to be madly in love with and vice versa, would rather spend time with a crack addict, instead?

Soph decided, not for the first time in her life, that she had her own personal TARDIS. That way, the moment she’d decided to help Zayn out at Shazia’s stupid anniversary party, she could slap herself around the face and yell that helping him out would end up nowhere.

“Hey, I was hiding behind a potted plant for twenty minutes.” Rose muttered, appearing beside Soph and looking particularly frazzled. “Are you sure you want me here for this? What if Zayn wants to be here? You haven’t asked!”

Soph snorted softly.

“I don’t need to.” Soph muttered, standing up. Rose followed suit, following Soph with a worried expression. “He doesn’t want to be here, Rose.”

“But... It’s his child!” Rose said desperately, as if that phrase would magically fix Zayn’s perspective. “And it’s your first scan!”

“Well, in that case, we don’t want to be late, do we?” Soph replied brazenly, walking purposefully towards the scanning department.

Rose followed her, mind racing. This wasn’t right – Zayn should know that Soph was having her first scan, but, similarly, Zayn shouldn’t have left her alone in the first place. Rose wanted to do something – anything, really – to help fix things for Soph.

She just didn’t know how... Even if beating the crap out of Zayn seemed like a good option to her, regardless.

“And...” Rose pushed awkwardly, not quite sure how to say what she wanted to say next. “You’re... You’re sure you want me here, instead?”

Soph turned to face Rose abruptly, causing Rose to almost crash into her at the sudden movement.

“Rose.” Soph said seriously, in the tone that Rose recognized as Soph’s faux-serious voice... Which usually meant that she was being extremely serious, despite her trying to blow it off as a joke. “Out of all of this, you’ve been the one here for me. You’ve been even more supportive than my own family. I mean, if it comes down to the worst and I have to raise this baby virtually alone-”

“It won’t get to that.” Rose promised quickly.

“- with Zayn off gallivanting with his crack whore...” Soph sighed quietly, smiling at her best friend. “I don’t feel so alone, because I know you’re here for me.” Soph gave Rose’s hand a quick squeeze. “If there’s anybody I want this kid to know – if this kid gets out alive, that is - ... I want it to be you.”

“I love you, but I think you’re going to make my mascara run.” Rose mumbled, as she gathered Soph into a large hug. Soph laughed, but they both knew it wasn’t wholehearted – Soph was scared. Scared and lost, because despite everything everyone was saying she was lucky to have around her, the only person she had was Rose.

“Come on.” Rose pulled away, laughing self-consciously as she tried to keep her tears from overflowing. “Time to meet your baby!”

Soph nodded, allowing Rose to pull her down the corridor.

It was because Soph allowed her to do it, that Rose didn’t see the smile fall off Soph’s face, an empty look replacing it instead.

  “What are you doing here?”

Harry couldn’t stop himself. The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he’d even realized he was thinking them.

“Thanks, Harry, clearly you’re extremely glad to see me.” Eddie laughed, walking to the seat opposite Harry and lighting a cigarette. “I ought to thank you, really. I would have had to wait hours for somebody to show up, hadn’t you taught me how to sneak into hotel rooms for the rich and famous.”

Harry said nothing, regarding the person he considered a brother with something unidentifiable – though, at the back of Harry’s mind, it registered that it felt a lot like malice.

“Does Rose know you’re here?” Harry asked, trying to force neutrality into his voice. After all, Eddie had just implied that he’d basically broken into Rose’s hotel room. Harry would much rather that than the alternative. “I don’t think this is a smoking room, by the way. Rose will know you’ve been here.”

“If Soph doesn’t chew me out first.” Eddie replied, taking a drag. Harry’s poker face broke slightly, as he regarded Eddie with confusion. “She’s been staying in here, I found a load of her stuff in the bathroom. You can always tell a woman by her makeup bag, I’ve learnt. Rose’s is positively overflowing in a bid to hide her unfounded insecurities, Soph just about has enough face wipes.”

If Eddie had been attempting to steer the conversation away from Rose, it worked. Harry felt lost.

“Soph and Zayn can’t keep their hands off each other, there’s no way Zayn would have survived without some nookie if Soph was staying here.” Harry told Eddie in disbelief, laughing slightly. “You’ve got it wrong. Soph and Rose are with each other all the time, they’ve probably got stuff in each other’s rooms. You don’t want Zayn to hear you think that, you’re off your rocker.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow as he took another drag of his cigarette, as if surprised.

“Harry.” Eddie began seriously, the shift of the conversation changing to something more serious than before. “Soph’s been staying here. I know Soph.”

“And so do I.” Harry argued, beginning to feel his temper rising. It was one thing for Eddie to have an interest in Rose, but to tell him how Soph worked? Harry was one of Soph’s most trusted friends. It was because of him that she’d met her current husband and was in marital bliss. Harry knew her better than anyone. “Soph’s staying with Zayn.”

“Soph’s staying here.” Eddie repeated, sounding resolute.

“And what makes you sure?” Harry scoffed, settling comfortably into the settee.

Eddie glanced at his friend, watching him carefully. Harry was on his defence and, for the life of him, Eddie couldn’t work out why. They weren’t talking about Rose, the bone of contention between them. They were talking about Soph. Harry was acting as if it were a competition.

But, despite all of his reasoning, Eddie couldn’t help but rise to the challenge.

“Because, Harry, there is a bottle of Burberry perfume in the bathroom.” Eddie replied, his voice sounding impatient. Before Harry could speak, Eddie ploughed on. “Burberry Weekend, which isn’t Rose’s. Rose wears natural, subtle perfumes, which I suppose is in some way related to her infatuation with make-up. Soph wears stronger scents. Her favourite is Burberry Weekend, or in this case, all she seemed to bring with her, other than deodorant.”

“But-”

“There’s no way that Soph would leave her perfume in Rose’s bathroom unless she was staying with her, because every morning without fail, Soph puts it on.” Eddie continued, totally ignoring the stupefied (and rather incensed) expression on Harry’s face. “Four squirts – one under each ear, one in the general direction of the cleavage and another on her left wrist, which she rubs on her right, because otherwise it’s too strong.” Harry was now staring at Eddie, who simply regarded him coolly. “I asked her about it once. Apparently, it goes under the ear because it settles on the skin better there and blends properly and the cleavage is apparently where perfume doesn’t get wasted, or leave shiny marks on one’s skin. The wrist thing is out of habit. She mentioned something about silver not being near perfume and how she was trying to stop that, though.” Eddie explained patiently, as if talking to a child. “So, back to the original point – Soph is staying here, which means there’s something going on between her and Zayn, which is why I probably should get rid of this cigarette. Honestly, it’s been three months – I applaud Soph for lasting that long.”

Harry clutched Penny the Care Bear in his hands, as if in a daze. Honestly, he was slightly in one.

It bothered Harry how Eddie seemed to know such a small detail about Soph, but his anger was currently being outweighed by the crushing weight of stupidity.

Hadn’t Rose been trying to garner his attention all of this time? Hadn’t Rose yelled at him and thrown one of his conquests aside, put aside her raging hatred of him for a moment, just to set off warning bells in his head? And what had Harry done?

He’d just sat back and appreciated her face, not listening to a word she had been saying.

For a very brief moment, Harry realized why Rose was so exasperated with him the majority of the time. After all, he currently wanted to punch himself in the face.

“I am such an idiot.” Harry groaned, covering his face with his hands. Eddie watched on, amused. “Rose has been trying to tell me ever since we got here that something was bloody well off and I was so focused on-”

Harry stopped.

“Focused on what?” Eddie asked conversationally, as if the tension in the room hadn’t suddenly thickened.

“Her cockblocking.” Harry forced himself to give Eddie a wry smile. “I’d been chatting up a member of staff at a venue and she just barged in, yelling about how I needed to open up my eyes to...” Harry trailed off, thinking for a moment. What was it about? What was going on between Zayn and Soph that was so worrying? As far as Harry could tell (and dysfunctional as it was to think), Rose seemed to be the romantically optimistic one in her and Soph’s friendship. If she had been worried enough to go to Harry for help...

Harry groaned. Just how much had he missed, exactly?

“I’m guessing you’ve got some grovelling to do?” Eddie laughed, standing up. Harry followed suit, quickly stuffing Rose’s list into his back pocket. A picture would have sufficed, but Harry honestly didn’t feel like sharing with Eddie at that particular moment. “I’ll see you tonight, we’ll catch up properly. I’ll leave you to destroy your pride in private – I’ve heard Irish women are feisty and you know how much that amuses me.”

“Well, I better find Soph.” Harry sighed, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. Surprisingly, considering how well both young men knew each other, they were convincing liars. Eddie had no intention of chasing after Irish women, when he had to talk to Rose – and Harry knew that to find Soph, he’d have to find Rose first. “See you later.”

Eddie nodded, leaving a trail of smoke behind him as he walked away.

It occurred to Harry, just after he’d shut the door behind him, that if Rose and Soph had been sleeping in the same suite recently... Had Rose been sleeping with Penny the Care Bear?

   “... As long as I’m the hero of this little girl!” Niall sound loudly, pretending to play air guitar over Alanna’s head. “Heaven isn’t too far away... Closer to it every day...”

“Niall, she’s going to think you’re an idiot.” Isolde murmured sleepily from the bed, seeing Alanna watch her father dutifully with wide eyes. “Stop singing bad 80’s rock at her.”

“Mum’s lying, isn’t she, Lanna?” Niall cooed, sweeping the little girl into his arms. “Because she had that song as her ringtone for two years, didn’t she? Mummy thinks I’ve forgotten, doesn’t she?”

“Stop influencing my daughter.” Isolde scolded, smiling to herself as her eyes drifted back closed again. “So... When are you leaving?”

The easygoing, adoring smile that had been on Niall’s face hardened, as he span Alanna around, making her gurgle in approval.

“When you accept the fact you and Alanna are moving to London with me.” Niall replied stonily, stopping his spinning and holding Alanna close – as if that would somehow convince Isolde easier. “I’m not leaving her here, Izzy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Isolde mumbled, fighting her exhaustion. She still wasn’t completely over the birth yet, let alone the hours of feeding. “And we’ve had this discussion, stubbornness gets you nowhere.”

“Exactly.” Niall beamed, settling down beside her. “So I’ll tell my mum to start packing your bags then?”

“You’re insufferable.” Isolde sighed, lazily allowing Alanna to pull on her finger.

Alanna began to whimper slightly as Isolde moved away – yet, when Niall went to pass her along, Alanna let out a clear cry of fury.

In a disorientating sort of way, Niall and Isolde cast furtive glances at each other. In the past few days...

Well, in the past few days, it had seemed more and more like Alanna was trying to get her parents back together.

Silently, Isolde moved over on the bed, allowing Niall to lie fairly comfortably beside her, Alanna resting on his chest and holding her mother’s finger. Isolde and Niall were at close proximity – and, even though you’d think any awkwardness would have been disregarded the moment Niall saw Isolde give birth to his daughter, there was a palpable tension in the air between them.

Niall’s arm was brushed against Isolde’s bust, which – Niall couldn’t deny noticing – had swelled considerably since Alanna had been born. Not that they had been at a bad size to begin with.

... Why was Niall thinking about Isolde’s chest size, when he had a baby in his arms?

Similarly, however, Isolde was secretly watching Niall’s side profile. The straight nose, the clear, bright and happy blue eyes, the swell of his pink lips...

Isolde jumped as Alanna hiccupped.

She had just given birth to a baby daughter and she was focusing on Niall’s lips? The only connection she had to Niall now, was through Alanna! What was wrong with her?

Hormones, Isolde told herself awkwardly. Blame it on the hormones.

But at Niall’s next words, it was hard to blame her jittering heart on chemicals.

“I’m not losing you both again.” Niall said firmly, his voice quiet as Alanna’s eyelashes brushed against his T-shirt, her eyelids fluttering. “I’m not taking no for an answer, Isolde.”

Isolde pretended not to hear him. She didn’t have clear judgement when he she could smell him so damn close.

  Rose and Soph sat, awestruck, outside of their hotel. They needed a moment to themselves.

“That gel was cold.” Soph mumbled, her eyes still wide. Cupping her stomach, Soph looked at the black and white scan prints on her lap. She cleared her throat. “So... This is new.”

“I’m going to have a sort-of baby niece or nephew.” Rose said, in a daze.

“Niece.” Soph corrected. Rose glanced up at her in surprise. “I can just... Feel it.” Soph paused for a moment, before slapping Rose on the arm. “And not sort of, you idiot, of course this is your niece. You’re more than a sister to me.”

Rose just smiled, shaking her head. Holding Soph’s hand at her first ultrasound had been... Incredible – not to mention seeing the baby...

“We have to look after you, okay?” Rose suddenly said fiercely, gripping Soph’s hands tightly. “You not being alright isn’t even an option anymore. I’ll beat the buttons out of Zayn if I have to.”

Soph cracked a smile.

“Buttons? Beat the buttons?” Soph’s laughter began to bubble and, before she knew it, she was shrieking in laughter. “Seriously?”

“What?!” Rose laughed, crossing her arms. “No swearing in front of the baby!”

The girls both laughed for a few moments longer and Rose couldn’t help but smile happily at how... Refreshed Soph looked. Whatever doubts she’d had a few moments before, were gone now. Seeing her baby onscreen was all the confirmation she had needed. Confirmation of what? Rose didn’t know. But whatever Soph had needed, she had.

Once their laughter had subdued, Soph grabbed Rose’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

“Thank you.” She said, her chocolate brown eyes burning with sincerity. “I don’t know how I could have gone through it today without you.”

Rose simply engulfed Soph in a large hug, closing her eyes and squeezing her close. Both girls felt tears come to their eyes – they had been through so much together, but they didn’t take a moment of it for granted. They’d practically grown up together, even if they were continents away.

They were so busy embracing one another, that neither of them noticed Harry approach the cab.

Which meant, they didn’t think to hide the photographs in Soph’s lap, either.

Consequently, they didn’t see the look on Harry’s face, before he silently stumbled away...

Well, no. Soph didn’t see. Rose opened her eyes just in time.

  A few moments later, Soph turned on the shower and closed her eyes, letting the hot water run down her face and body. It had been a long day and apparently wasn’t ending anytime soon. Eddie had surprised them all by arriving at the hotel... And Soph knew that not only did he and Rose need a serious conversation regarding their almost-kiss, but that drama was brewing between Rose and Harry. They’d barely step foot inside the hotel when Harry had approached them, his eyes having a strangely intense look. He’d asked to see Rose for a moment, before she saw Eddie in person (the lobby man had informed them) and told Soph that he wanted to chill out with her later. He’d said it with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and although Soph knew Harry probably wanted to discuss something serious, she didn’t for a second think it had anything to do with her pregnancy.

After all, it was Zayn’s job to tell the boys, wasn’t it?

The harshness of Zayn’s words earlier seemed to hit Soph full force, and she felt her shoulders tense at the memory. Soph pressed her palms flat against the wall before her, focusing on the water trickling through her thick, dark hair.

“Soph?” She heard Zayn call softly, the bathroom door opening.

Soph said nothing, keeping her back to the misty glass screen where she could see a shadow approaching. She didn’t bother to try and look busy – she simply kept her palms on the wall and stared directly ahead, blinking the water out of her eyes.

A moment later, she felt Zayn’s body flush and warm against hers, his hand on her waist.

“Soph, I’m sorry.” He said quietly, kissing her shoulder. “What I said about the boys-”

The old, angry, independent Soph would have scoffed – but something had changed within her now, there was no escaping that. No, instead, the new Soph simply closed her eyes in defeat and let out a small, tired sigh. And there she had been, stupidly hopeful for the briefest of moments that Zayn had meant about everything with Dianna.

Zayn hesitated, sensing her body limp slightly in defeat. Strangely, it was the first time Zayn had ever noticed that before... Defeat. Whenever a woman’s body sighed against his, he assumed it was lust. If he and Soph hadn’t had such an eventful day, he would have still assumed so.

Zayn gently pushed her wet hair aside to her shoulder, trailing kisses down her neck and shoulders slowly – apparently choosing to ignore how she wrapped her arms around her chest self-consciously, or how she rest her palms on her neck in discomfort.

“Don’t.” Soph mumbled, shrugging him off slightly.

There was a moment, then – a moment where there was space between them as Zayn recoiled in surprise, a moment where Soph was huddled away from him in sadness.

But that moment broke.

“Soph, please.” Zayn whispered, resting his forehead on her shoulder.

Not quite reluctantly, nor entirely free of confliction, Soph turned, allowing Zayn’s hands to roam down the frame of her petite body.

His hands hesitated as he reached her waist and Soph felt her expression flit with surprise, as she wondered if he were to tenderly caress  the skin between him and his child.

Instead, Zayn abruptly placed his hands on her back instead, before setting his lips to hers.

After all was said and done, Soph lay on the bed with wet hair, in an overgrown T-shirt. Zayn kissed her on the cheek before getting up to go and get changed and she watched the window awhile, collecting her thoughts. Zayn had seemed... Different. Different than before. Tenderness in his advances wasn’t new, but what had just happened was something different altogether.

It wasn’t until they were walking downstairs to join Eddie and the others for dinner, Zayn chatting amicably with Soph as if there were nothing wrong – as if she weren’t seven weeks pregnant, as if they both didn’t feel the strain, as if they weren’t clearly having problems – and she blocked him out, she realized what had been different.