Eucatastrophe ~ h.s.

✗ fourteen ✗

SHAY

Not until after convincing Harry that I'm one hundred percent sure that I want to return back to work, did he actually make a move to drive in the direction of my apartment. We were there for less than fifteen minutes and we left with most of my clothing items and a promise to the owner of the building that I will clean the place heavily and pay for any damage before I officially move out.

Of course once we got to the car Harry said that I will be doing no heavy cleaning; he read somewhere that the chemicals in cleaning products could do damage to an unborn child, or so he says.

I've changed into a fitted pantsuit, my favorite pantsuit actually, with my best blouse and a pair of cute three-inch pumps. I think my attire, as well as the fact that I put a bit of makeup on my face and did my hair, impressed Harry to a whole new degree. And I have to admit; the look is making me feel like a new person. I can't place my finger on it, but I look livelier than before and there's a certain glow to my unusually pale skin.

Only once we have picked up our Chinese take-away do we arrive at the office. We pull up in Harry's Range Rover a little after noon and are greeted by one of the complementary valet members of the company. I stay quiet as we walk into the building, only speaking to thank the doorman for his services whilst we move.

"Mr. Styles." The lobby desk woman greets with a small smile. He shoots her an infamous smirk and a head nod before continuing to lead the way towards the elevators. The woman's eyes grow double in size at the sight of me trailing behind. It isn't the first time we've ever entered the building together, but it's the first time I've entered the building in almost five weeks. Plus I usually arrive well before seven am and it's pushing mid-afternoon now. "Ms. Nichols." She utters, her lips barely moving.

"Good afternoon." I greet, trying to sound as professional and normal as humanly possible. But as soon as we enter the lift and the doors close between the world and us, my professionalism goes out the window. "Holy shit!" I exclaim, running a hand over my hair in hopes that it's still in a pristine bun at the top of my head.

"What? What's wrong?" Harry's concern is enough to drive me mad.

"I have no story. I have no lie for why I was out of the office for so long!" I exclaim in terror.

I'm a planner, clearly, and there is no plan for this. If someone is to come up to me and ask about my absence, I will have no solid lie to tell. And Harry can tell a completely different lie and we'll be sunk.

"Hey," Harry manoeuvres the food around in his arms so that he can place a hand on my shoulder in comfort, "I already told you before; the first week you were out with the flu and from then on you've been on vacation in Manchester."

"And what do you suppose I've been doing in Manchester for a month now, Harry?" I hiss, watching the floors ticking past us as we arrive closer to the top floor. In a matter of seconds we will be greeted with a floor full of people, surely expecting to hear of my grand vacation in bloody Manchester.