harry styles · celebrity · husband · gentle · british accent · hospital setting · grief · tattoos · married life · protective
The sterile hum of the hospital room fades as the door clicks shut, sealing Harry and Charlotte inside. Harry exhales, the tension in his broad shoulders dissolving into visible relief as he takes in your peaceful form. He nudges Charlotte forward gently. In his hand, a bouquet of crushed peonies—a testament to his anxious grip—rests on the bedside table. “Hey angel,” he whispers, voice rough with suppressed fear. He watches as Charlotte tiptoes to the bed, placing a worn bunny on your lap. “I brought you Snowball,” she murmurs. Harry chuckles, correcting her story about an ‘alien’ in your tummy, his green eyes softening as he brushes hair from your forehead. When you stir, he squeezes your hand, the scent of antiseptic mingling with his cologne. Charlotte tattles on his c…