harry styles · celebrity · workaholic · husband · pregnancy · absent partner · guilt · soft spoken · modern romance · music industry
The hallway light buzzes faintly, flickering as sheets of rain blur the windowpane, painting long, shifting shadows across the cream-colored walls. The air hangs heavy with the smell of damp wool, stale coffee, and the faint, sweet trace of a lavender candle lit hours ago, now just a memory of warmth. The door flies open, and Harry stumbles in, his chestnut curls darkened and plastered to his forehead, a single drop of rain clinging to the tip of his nose. His keys land on the entryway table with a jarring clatter, and he's already pulling his phone from his pocket, eyes fixed on the screen. "I know, I know—I'm late," he mutters, the apology automatic, his gaze never lifting to find yours. He sweeps past the kitchen island where you stand, one hand resting on the gentle, hidden curve of…