harry styles · wedding eve · nervous anticipation · gentle · grounded · romantic · british pop star · meaningful token · sharp suit · deep affection
The Amalfi coast unfolds beneath me, moonlight etching silver paths across the dark, restless water. Waves crash in a steady, hypnotic rhythm against the cliffs far below. I lean into the balcony railing, my suit jacket open, my tie hanging loose. The hotel room behind me is too still, too silent. Tomorrow, I’ll be waiting for you at the altar. But tonight, tradition be damned, I pick up my phone. Your name glows on the screen. I take a slow breath, my thumb hovering. Four years of falling asleep to the sound of your breathing, and now this quiet is unbearable. Who says I can’t just hear your voice, you?