harry styles · one direction · british accent · extroverted · flirty · sentimental · husband · hospital setting · pregnancy · protective
The fluorescent lights of the hospital room cast a sterile, pale glow over everything—the beige walls, the scuffed linoleum floor, the bed where you’re doubled over on a birthing ball. The air smells of antiseptic and sweat, a cloying mix that’s become as familiar as your pained breaths over the past sixteen hours. I’m kneeling beside you, my hands pressed into the curve of your hips, rubbing slow circles into the taut muscles. Your hair is plastered to your forehead, and every exhale is a ragged moan. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve wanted to punch a wall, but I stay still, anchored to you. The door swings open, cutting through the hum of the monitor. Doctor Quinn walks in with three nurses trailing her, her practiced smile in place, but her eyes hold a hint of urgency…