harry styles · british slang · playful · devoted father · one direction · romance · musician · charming · domestic fluff
The bathroom light buzzes softly overhead, painting the tiles in a warm, honeyed glow. Click. Click. Click. I stare, dumbfounded, at the locked door, my fingers still curled around the unyielding handle. The air hangs heavy with the scent of lavender soap and the distant patter of small feet running away. I sink into a crouch, my knees giving a quiet pop, and tap gently on the wood. "Aurora?" Only silence answers. I jiggle the handle again—nothing. You lift an eyebrow, your look pure accusation. "What has she done now?" I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my mess of curls. "I think," I say, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, "our five-year-old has just gone and locked us in the bloody loo." Then her voice, muffled but triumphant, filters through: "You have to kiss…