DETACHED || HS ✔️

F I V E

"I KNOW YOU'RE PREGNANT."

Harry declared the statement as soon as his appearance was noticed in the Styles' household. It was the day after Liam and his talk about how he had fucked up in so many ways, and Harry had a dawning. His mind was on really three main things: his wife, a supposed pregnancy, and dear Olivia.

His boots loudly clanked onto the hardwood as he made his way into their bedroom, his ears perking at the choking noise emanating from the bathroom that was connected. He found himself nearly sprinting into there, worry filling his veins until his statement proved the truth.

With hooded and tired eyes, Arabella watched her husband pull back the short waves of her hair, gathering them all into one before wrapping them with the ponytail on his wrist. He used to keep it on his tattooed wrist all the time, solely for his wife who needed it at desperate times and always forgot to wear one on her wrist. Harry never forgot.

Another wave of nausea passed through her, her frail body emptying the remnants into the toilet bowl. Harry looked away at the awful sight, squatting down before his large hand landed on her back. At first, she flinched at the contact, but she welcomed it when he began rubbing it in circles.

What was she doing?

"Is there anything I can do?" Harry suddenly asked, dismissing the thoughts about continuing the discussion about his wife's pregnancy.

He watched her with gleaming forest eyes, noticing the slow movements to raise her head up and gaze at him. He saw the exhaustion within her irises, especially with her fatigued body and sluggish movements. The singer had once witnessed the same thing, except he wasn't a cheater or drunk.

"Can-" Arabella cleared her throat when she heard the crack in her voice. Harry's eyes softened. Possibly his heart, too. "-can you get me some water?" her voice croaked while she motioned to the sink, her husband's movements becoming too quick.

Arabella hated that. She was literally in the middle of writing her column when the wave of nausea hit her like a bus. Her legs sprinted into the bathroom, and it wasn't until she heard the front door close that she attempted to regain her composure. But, she couldn't. Her nausea episode wasn't over, and she was too weak to stand.

Harry knew.

And that was the worst thing to ever happen.

Arabella didn't want Harry staying for the baby. She wanted him to stay because he wanted to, and not to feel obligated because of a critter growing in her stomach. It might've been selfish, but she wanted him to stay for her.

All in a blur, her husband's knee was touching hers, and a cup of water was at her lips.

"I'm not a baby, Harry. I can hold the cup myself," she mumbled before the water trickled into and down her throat. It was refreshing and helpful, ridding some of the revolting bile and clearing some of the scratchiness of her throat.

Harry smirked before shaking his head at his movements. He rid his face of the expression. "M'just trying to help you."

Arabella drank nearly the entire cup before taking it from her husband, setting it down beside her on the floor. He watched as she did so, watching the short wisps of hair fall from her ponytail and curtain some of her pale face. That's another thing he noticed, how sickly pale the woman had got.

Perhaps the pregnancy was because of it, but Arabella had been that way for months.

She swallowed thickly when her chocolate eyes scanned his attire. It was strange because Harry usually wore his plain white and black shirts, but that time was different. His torso was wrapped in a dark grey button up, intricate checkered designs of dark blue spreading across the expanse.

Of course, he sported the few buttons undone because, well, he was Harry Styles after all.

It had been a while since Arabella was really up close to his tattoos, so she took the opportunity to scan the skin she had once laid upon. His skin wasn't as tan as it used to be, but he still wore the cross pendant across his chest.

Harry had never been much into religion, though. He was wore of a spiritual man, which was something Arabella's family despised about him since she came from a Catholic background, but it didn't matter. She loved him for who he was.

"Any better?" Harry suddenly asked, bringing his wife out of her trance. He titled his chin down to get a better look at her, their eyes connecting.

Arabella only nodded her head slowly while he ran a hand through his messy curls.

"Let me help you to bed," he muttered before she shook her head, insisting to stay beside the toilet in case she felt another wave of nausea. Harry sighed in defeat. "I'll just stay then. Do you need anything else?"

"Why are you doing this?"

The singer's eyes widened in shock before he answered without hesitation. "Because you're sick."

"No, Harry," Arabella shook her head once more as she closed the lid to the toilet, propping her arm on it to support her nauseated mind. She was exhausted. "You basically tell me you don't want me anymore, but you still come here. It makes no sense."

"I told you that I want you. It was a mistake - Francis and everything. I was a fucking idiot, and I didn't realize that until now," Harry swallowed the lump down his throat before he gazed at the rings on his sweaty palms.

"I left you when you needed me the most, and all the apologies in the world couldn't say how sorry I am. I know you won't forgive me because, hell, I can't forgive myself-"

"Stop," she muttered after wincing at his words, a headache immediately impacting her. She started to rub her stomach while Harry lifted his head to look at the sight. "You're only here for the baby. I don't need your pity."

"Stop fucking saying that," he suddenly was filled with frustration, seething his words but quickly stopped when he saw the pained expression on his wife's face. "M'sorry," he mumbled an apology before running a hand through his tangled curls and unconsciously scooting closer to her.

"I'm here for you, and only you."

"Then prove it," Arabella whispered, noticing so many emotions building behind his forest eyes.

Harry wouldn't let her down.

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i'm sad because harry's tour is over and that's all i can think about. but i'm so proud of him, you know. he's done so great.

what do you think arabella will say in her article for the magazine?