Later that same day

My emotions are all over the place as I twirl an object in my hands.

Like a storm brewing in my mind, they ping pong from one end to the other.

This wasn't supposed to happen. I put certain things in place to assure that something like this would never happen. And yet, somehow it did anyway.

I force myself to detach from the situation so I won't fuck up what I'm trying to do. Emotions will cloud my judgment, make me sloppy, and that could get me and everyone else killed.

I have to be smart about the next steps I take.

My phone rings, and I enclose the object in my hand before answering.

"Speak." My voice is hard, cold. It has to be.

"What happened?"

Frustration prickles across my forehead and turns into a dull ache.

"She saw me with Wynter."

"Oh shit. How did that go?"

"How the fuck do you think it went, Niall?" I can't stop myself from snapping, briefly showing my true feelings behind the cold exterior.

Niall sighs on the other line, sounding defeated. I can't bring myself to feel even an ounce of sympathy for him.

"I knew you were going to be in the area today, so I tried to keep her at her house. I really did try, Harry. She has been suspicious of me lately, and she knows I know something."

I smile bleakly. Of course she knows something and is suspicious, that doesn't surprise me.

"Well, it doesn't matter anymore. I'll call you later." I hang up without giving him a chance to respond.

Searching through my phone, I find the picture I want to see. At the same time, I open my hand and stare at what lies in my palm.

An ultrasound on my phone and my wedding ring in my hand.

I knew that playing with fire was going to cost... I just wish I had known how much it was going to burn.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

Impossible.

In the past week, I've heard that word more times than I can count. I've had countless teams of doctors talk to me, and they've constantly analyzed my daughter. They just can't figure it out.

How did my baby come back to life when she was pronounced dead?

I don't know the answer myself, but I'm not focused on it. I'm just thankful that she is still alive. Barley, but she's a fighter.

That day, after Nurse Samira called the code, a bunch of nurses and doctors whisked my baby away to the NICU. I was so scared, but one doctor insisted that I stayed calm. He told me that I had my baby vaginally and that I pushed her out. I don't remember doing that at all, and I told him so. He said it was probably extremely traumatic, so my brain made me forget it. So it wasn't really a miscarriage that they thought, but a stillbirth (although technically, it wasn't that either). A doctor told Samira the wrong terminology. Somehow they were able to stop my other daughter from coming out by sewing up my cervix and keeping my body at a 90 degree angle. My head is pointed down and my feet are up.

I can't visit my baby in the NICU, since I'm nearly upside down, and it breaks my damn heart. Samira and some other nurses took it upon themselves to set up something like a video chat between me and my girl. I talk to her constantly and I sing to her, just like I did when she was with her sister.

It's hard to see her though because she is hooked up to what looks like hundreds of machines. She's taking laboured breaths, and her eyes are taped shut because they're not fully developed. At night I stare at the wall and think about what I could've done differently to prevent this.

It's my fault that my baby is out in the world before her time. It's my fault that she could die at any minute. It's my fault for letting Harry and his whore effect me enough to almost kill my babies. The guilt eats me the most, at night, when I'm alone. It takes everything in me not to cry my eyes out all the time.

It's been a week, and I still haven't processed that Harry's alive. I haven't processed anything that happened that day. Whenever I think about it, I go numb and my emotions cut off. I think that I may still be in shock. Or maybe it's trauma like when I pushed out my baby. So, I don't think about it at all. It's extremely unhealthy, but I'm following my pattern of pretending that it didn't happen.

Today, they feel bad for me, so, the nurses and doctors are going to try and roll me up to the NICU. I hate when people pity me, but if I get to see my baby in person, it's worth it. This might not work since I'm still in the bed and have to stay at a certain angle, but I'm optimistic.

There's a light knock on my door and it opens revealing Samira.

"Good morning Ellie girl, are you ready for your sponge bath?" My cheeks heat up in embarrassment and I groan. "Do I have to? You know, I feel perfectly clean and I smell like roses."

Samira snorts at me. "Smell like roses my butt! Hon, you need to wash. Ain't no use acting embarrassed now when you know how you have to go to the bathroom."

My cheeks are on fire now, and I hold my hands up in surrender. "Alright, alright! You didn't have to go there Mira." She just laughs and goes to get everything ready.

After 30 minutes, I'm finally clean and dressed in a fresh hospital gown. One of the doctors comes to check on my stitches, before giving me the final go ahead to see my baby.

As a swarm of nurses prep me, I rub my stomach in soothing circles. "Are you excited to see your sister? I know I am. I can't wait for you two to be together with me, but don't you dare come out yet missy. Your sister just had to be the rebel, huh?" I smile to myself when she gently kicks against my hand. This is the first time I've been in a good mood all week.

"Okay hon, you ready?" I nod eagerly at Samira.

"Alright ladies, nice and easy, okay? Take it slow! When we get to the bump in the hall, we're going to have to go extra slow until we're over it. Got it?" Everyone nods and murmurs their agreements.

Then we're moving.

We're moving kind of slow, but my excitement overshadows that. I take in the hospital scenery, just happy to finally be out of my room. There's not much to see, but a few other patients wave at me. I just shrug and wave back at them.

We're almost to the elevator now, we just have to pass over this speed bump that runs in the middle of the hallway. The nurses go as slowly as they can, but I get bumped and my monitor starts going crazy. I feel slight pain but I'm willing to keep going. They however, are not.

"Back to the room, now!" They race me back to my room as my crestfallen face is buried in my hands.

In my room, they all work on me as they try to get me back into position. When me and the baby are stable, a few of them apologize as they leave. I don't uncover my eyes.

"Ellie, hon?" Samira's voice is extremely gentle and that's all it takes for the dam to break.

I haven't cried since everything happened, but it's all coming out now. Samira wraps her arms around me as best as she can as I sob and wail in her arms.

"Alright hon, let it out, it's okay." That just makes me cry harder.

"Why is this happening to me? I-I just w-want to see my b-baby! What if she dies? What if she dies and I'm not there?! She'll be all alone!" I start to hyperventilate, my chest constricting like it did that day.

Samira pulls back abruptly and grabs me by the shoulders. My eyes are full of panic, but hers are filled with determination. "Calm down hon, take a deep breath okay? Breathe with me, follow me. In, out, in, out- good Ellie, keep going."

The breathing works as my chest slowly expands, that tight feeling going away. When I'm completely calm again, Samira holds her hand out.

"What?"

"Give me your phone, hon."

I look at her in confusion. "What, why?"

"I know you don't want tell anyone, Ellie, but you cannot keep doing this alone. You need someone to be there for you and to support you."

She's right. I know she's right, but who the hell would I even call? Nobody knows that I'm in the hospital. Nobody knows that I had one of the babies. I texted Daria briefly and told her that I was on vacation. She's staying at her friend, Simone's house. She knows it's bullshit, but she doesn't have a choice but to believe me right now.

I know it's wrong, but I just couldn't bring myself to tell her. To tell anyone. I mean, what the hell would I even say? 'Oh hey, I went into early labor and endangered my babies lives because I saw their dead father with another bitch'?

Sighing heavily, I look at Samira. "How about I give you the number and you call them on your phone?"

Samira shrugs and pulls out her phone. "Whatever floats your boat, hon. Now, the number."

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"You're going to make this right. You're going to apologize for being an asshole. Then you're going to crush your feelings so you can be there for her." Staring at my reflection, I chant these sentences over and over again.

Basically, I've been an asshole.

Only, I didn't realize this until I saw my best friend on that group Zoom call. Ellie looked so radiant and happy, and I realized that I was a fool for missing out on it. I need to be a part of her happiness, not her despair. She has enough of that to deal with already.

I thought about calling her, but I can't make an apology like this over the phone. We need to be face to face, so that she can see that I'm sincere.

So, I'm in Canada.

I've been here for a while now, trying to get up the courage to apologize.

I'm in a hotel room, getting myself cleaned up, so that she doesn't think I'm a hobo when she first lays her eyes on me.

When I kissed my best friend that day, and she didn't kiss me back, I felt... pitiful. I felt rejected and ashamed, so I ran. I ran and ignored her. I was throwing myself a pity party and it took me a long time to snap out if it. I let myself go. Grew out a musty looking beard, let my hair grow wild, and I started fucking anything with legs. All of that just to get the girl I loved off of my mind.

After seeing her that day, I realized that I needed to pull my shit together, get over her, so I could be there for her as a best friend.

Looking at my reflection again, I run my hands over my clean shaven jaw. I decided to keep my hair long, but I'm going to actually take care of it now. I washed it and pulled it back into a bun.

I get dressed quickly, eager to make things right. I dress in a knit navy blue sweater, black jeans, and sturdy black boots. I go to grab my winter coat, when my phone rings.

Groaning at being delayed, I pick up my phone and study the unknown number. I contemplate not answering, but at the last second, I swipe left.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, is this Liam Payne?"

My brows furrow together as a bad feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. "Yes, this is he. Who is this?"

"I am Nurse Samira Washington, calling from Brownstone Memorial Hospital. Ellie Waters is in our care and she has asked that you come."

Surprise and dread runs through me. "Is she okay? What's going on?"

"Unfortunately I cannot discuss that over the phone. Can you make it?"

"Yes, I'll be there as soon as I can!"

Before she can answer, I hang up and book it out of my room. Panic flows through my body, and I feel like I've got to tell someone. I speedial Niall, hoping that he picks up.

"Hey Li, what's up?"

"Niall, I don't have much time but I wanted to tell you that Ellie's in the hospital."

"What? Is she okay?"

"Honestly I don't know, but I don't think so because we haven't really been talking and she had a nurse call me. Me. So it must be pretty serious."

Niall scoffs. "Yeah, she told me about that. Not cool, mate." My eyebrows raise in suprise. She told Niall that I kissed her? Yikes.

I'm not surprised that he hasn't confronted me about it before because I left Josie and Zayn's house. I was literally wallowing in my own filth at my apartment.

I shake my head. "That's not important right now, look I gotta go, I'm on my way over there right now."

"Wait! What's the name of the hospital?"

"Brownstone Memorial." I hang up before he can ask me anymore questions.

As I'm running down the hall, I'm programming the hospital into my gps.

Please God, let Ellie be okay. Please.

▪︎▪︎▪︎

"What did he say?" I bite my lip nervously. Samira just smiles at me softly. "He said he's on his way. Everything will be alright, okay?"

I wish I could believe that.

"Okay."

Samira checks my vitals and makes sure I'm comfortable before she leaves. I know that she has other patients, but I've grown attached to the older nurse. She's older than me but not by much. Samira is 33 years old. It's crazy because she doesn't look a day over 20. Her husband Solomon is 34, her daughter Sariah is 6, and her son Santana is 5. Yeah, a lot of S's but I think it's cute.

I would love for my girls to have matching names, but I haven't been able to think of any. I only have a few that I like, and they don't match. One of my babies has been born into this world, and I feel bad that she doesn't have a name yet.

All I know is that I want them to have names starting with the letter A. I don't know why, but I'm a little obsessed with it.

I'll have to work on it.

I grab the tablet that sits on the stand next to me and power it up. I wait for it to turn on before I follow the instructions that the nurses gave me.

Soon, my brave little bean is on the screen.

"Hi baby..." I trail off, noticing that she's hooked up to another machine. Tears pool in my eyes before they fall down my cheeks in rivulets.

She's not breathing on her own anymore.

I recognize the machine from when Mateo and Javadd were in the NICU back in Jersey.

I feel a mental breakdown on the edges of my mind, but I suck it all up for the sake of my baby.

She moves her arms a little, as if she's fussing, and my entire body aches to hold her.

"Shh.. shh.. it's okay pretty girl, mommy is right here. You are being so strong and I know you can do this, my baby." She calms down a little and I brush my finger over her cheek on the screen, wishing that I was really doing it.

"I love you."

I have to stop talking then because my throat feels so tight from the sobs that I'm withholding.

I just watch her and eventually manage to sing to her. I also include her sister, not wanting to leave that sweet angel out.

My door opens slowly, but I know that it's probably Samira or another nurse, so I pay no mind. I just keep singing to my girls until the song is over.

"That was beautiful, El."

I start at the sudden deep voice and look up.

"Liam."

His name sounds like a tired sigh on my lips. I know that despite everything he's done, I could never hate him. He stands in the corner of the room, looking like a lost boy. His dark hair is long and tied into a neat bun and he somehow looks older. I know that he looks completely different than the last time I saw him.

... I wonder how I look to him.

I'm sure I don't want to know.

I hold my right hand out to him, beckoning my friend to come closer. "Liam."

He walks to me slowly and gently takes my outstretched hand. His eyes never leave mine even, though there's a million things that can distract him.

Liam squeezes my hand. "I am so sorry Ellie."

I close my eyes at his apology. I wish I could say that it's okay, but that wouldn't be the right thing to say. Because it wasn't okay, none of it was. Another tear slips from my eye as I open them.

"Thank you."

He sighs then, like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. When Liam looks at me again, there's a certain light back in his eyes. "Can I hug you without hurting you?"

I laugh slightly. "Of course you can, I'm not glass."

His hand slips out of my own and he bends down slightly before engulfing his arms around me.