The Cover | part 4 (Patreon)

Author's note: hello everyone I hope you are all doing great! Here is the last and final part of The Cover. I hope you've liked it so far. Let me know what you think. 

Word count: 7K 

As the evening unfolded, the rehearsal dinner transitioned into a more relaxed gathering. The once elegant ambiance gave way to a carefree, boozy celebration under the twinkling fairy lights in the backyard. Guests were laughing, their voices a joyful hum that filled the warm evening air, and wine glasses clinked more frequently as the night progressed. Most of the wedding guests had already left, leaving behind only close family and friends—including the bride, who had kicked off her heels and was swaying barefoot on the grass.

Harry sat at the large, wooden table in the backyard, his body angled toward the makeshift dance floor where the remaining family members were laughing and stumbling over each other. He had long since taken off his blazer, draping it over the back of his chair. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his chest and collarbone. The summer night had grown humid, and the heat from earlier still lingered in the air, clinging to everyone like a heavy blanket. Harry ran a hand through his tousled curls, feeling the dampness at his hairline.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung over the backrest, the other holding a glass of whiskey that was now mostly melted ice. He hadn’t been drinking much after the first few rounds of toasts, but he could feel the slight buzz from earlier still making his limbs feel a little looser than usual. His shirt clung slightly to his chest, the material sticking in places from the warmth, and he unbuttoned another button to catch some air.

Across the yard, Y/N was spinning in her floral dress, her laughter carrying across the night, mingling with the upbeat music playing from the DJ stand. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly wild from the dancing and the drinks. She was the brightest thing in the yard, a glowing figure of joy among the small group of family members who remained.

Harry took a slow sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving her. He couldn’t help it. She was magnetic. The way her dress swayed with her every movement, the way she threw her head back when she laughed—it was impossible not to be drawn to her.

His shirt collar felt tight again, and he tugged at it absentmindedly, his gaze drifting over the way her dress clung to her in all the right places. There was something about the way she moved tonight, so free, so completely herself. It was like watching the most beautiful thing in the world without any filters or pretenses.

Harry exhaled, feeling a strange mix of admiration and frustration. They hadn’t confessed anything yet—no words of love, no admissions of the truth that was so clearly hanging between them. And now, watching her from the sidelines, it only made him realize how deep he was in it.

Y/N’s cousin had taken to the "dance floor," pulling her into an exaggerated twirl, and for a brief second, Y/N stumbled, giggling as she righted herself. Beth, now barefoot, joined in, and the three of them—Y/N, her cousin, and Beth—started dancing in a clumsy circle, their arms thrown around each other’s shoulders.

The group’s laughter rang out louder than the music. Y/N’s cousin, who had been obnoxious all evening, couldn’t stop showing off her fiancé during dinner, trying to impress Harry with stories that fell flat. But now, even she had let loose, lost in the happy, drunken haze of the night.

Harry sighed, rolling his shoulders and settling back into his chair, the sweat cooling on his skin. His gaze followed Y/N as she moved, effortlessly beautiful, and he couldn’t help but think how much she didn’t belong here—well, not with these people. She was so much more than their petty remarks, their forced conversations. She was special, and seeing her now, dancing without a care in the world, made his chest tighten.

As Y/N turned in the middle of the circle, her eyes found his. For a split second, her smile faltered, turning softer, more intimate. She waved at him, a playful, inviting look in her eyes, beckoning him to join her. But Harry shook his head, raising his glass to her in a half-teasing salute.

She pouted in response, playfully narrowing her eyes at him. With a roll of her eyes, she let her arms drop from her cousin and Beth, moving away from the group. She marched toward him, the fabric of her dress brushing against her legs with every step.

"You’re really just going to sit there all night?" she teased, standing in front of him with her hands on her hips. Her voice was light, but there was a challenge in her eyes.

"I’m enjoying the view," Harry replied, his voice a little lower than he intended. He grinned, but there was no denying the heat behind his gaze.

Y/N’s lips quirked into a knowing smile, and she tilted her head, studying him for a moment. "The view’s better up close," she countered, reaching out her hand to him.

Harry stared at Y/N’s outstretched hand, the challenge and playfulness in her eyes flickering like a spark. It was tempting—so tempting. His heart pounded, his pulse quickening at the idea of crossing that invisible line between friendship and something more.

For a split second, he thought about brushing her off again, giving her another teasing excuse. But then something shifted. A decision settled in his chest, heavy but certain.

Without another word, he reached out, his hand wrapping around hers. Instead of standing to join her on the makeshift dance floor, Harry tugged her gently toward him. Y/N let out a small gasp of surprise as he pulled her close, his grip firm but careful. She stumbled just slightly, but before she could react, Harry pulled her down onto his lap.

"Harry—" she started to protest, but her voice was more of a breathless whisper than anything else.

He wrapped an arm around her waist, securing her against him. Y/N's legs draped over his lap as she sat sideways on him. His free hand settled on her thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of her dress. The floral material fluttered slightly as it adjusted to her new position, the delicate print contrasting with the intimacy of the moment.

Harry's heart was racing now, but he kept his voice steady. "Thought you'd look better here," he said softly, his words laced with both playfulness and something more.

Y/N looked up at him, wide-eyed and speechless for a moment, her cheeks flushed with the sudden proximity. She shifted slightly in his lap, her movements slow, almost tentative. There was a nervous energy between them, a tension that neither had dared to fully acknowledge before this moment.

Her hands found his chest, fingers lightly brushing against the now-open buttons of his shirt, and she swallowed hard. “Harry, what are you doing?” she whispered, her voice trembling just slightly. She wasn’t sure if she meant it as a challenge, a question, or maybe just a way to steady herself in the whirlwind of emotions swirling between them.

He smirked, though his heart felt like it might burst. "I don’t want to dance," he said quietly, his voice almost a murmur in her ear. "I prefer being here with you"

Her breath hitched at his words, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. She’d been so used to hiding her feelings, so used to pushing them aside, that this felt like uncharted territory. And yet, it felt so familiar at the same time. The way Harry’s arms felt around her, the way his breath brushed against her skin—it was as if they’d always been this close, even when they hadn’t.

Y/N bit her lip, her nerves momentarily silencing her. She wasn’t sure how to react, wasn’t sure if this was just Harry being his usual playful self or if something had truly shifted between them. But as she sat there, nestled in his lap, his hand resting on her thigh, the truth felt undeniable.

Harry could feel her hesitance, the slight tension in her posture as if she was caught between leaning into him and pulling away. His thumb brushed the fabric of her dress, a small, reassuring gesture, as if telling her it was okay to stay.

"Relax," he whispered into her ear, his voice low and soft. "Just… stay."

Y/N exhaled, her body slowly melting into his as she allowed herself to give in to the moment. She leaned her head back against his chest, her breath syncing with his as they sat there, close and quiet, in the midst of the fading party.

The world around them blurred into a soft hum, the laughter and music fading into the background. All that remained was the warmth of Harry’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart beneath her palm, and the electricity of their unspoken feelings finally starting to surface.

Y/N closed her eyes for a moment, her hand resting over Harry’s on her thigh, fingers intertwining. "What are we doing, Harry?" she finally whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he tightened his hold on her, his face close to hers. "I’m not sure," he admitted, his lips hovering near her temple. "But I don’t want to stop."

Her heart fluttered at his words, and for the first time that night, she allowed herself to believe—just a little—that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way she did.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage she could muster. The alcohol in her system was making her head spin, but it was also giving her the boldness she needed. She knew that if something was going to happen between them, it had to be now.

With a sudden movement, she stood up from Harry's lap. He looked up at her, surprise and curiosity mingling in his eyes. Y/N reached for his glass, her fingers brushing against his as she took it. Without breaking eye contact, she brought the glass to her lips and downed what was left of his drink in one swift motion.

Harry watched her carefully, his gaze intense and unwavering. There was a question in his eyes, a mix of desire and uncertainty. Y/N felt her heart racing, but she refused to let her nerves get the better of her. She extended her hand to him, an invitation and a challenge rolled into one.

For a moment, Harry hesitated, his eyes searching hers. Then, slowly, deliberately, he took her hand. Y/N felt a jolt of electricity as their fingers intertwined. With a gentle tug, she pulled him up from his seat, their bodies close, the tension between them palpable.

Without a word, Y/N led Harry away from the dwindling party and into the house. The sounds of laughter and music faded behind them as they made their way through the quiet halls. Their footsteps echoed softly, matching the rhythm of their quickening heartbeats.

They reached the door of their shared bedroom, and Y/N paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned to look at Harry, her eyes searching his face. The air between them was charged with anticipation and unspoken feelings.

Harry's gaze was intense, a mix of desire and something deeper, more profound. He reached out, his fingers gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The simple gesture sent shivers down Y/N's spine.

"Are you sure about this?" Harry whispered, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've never been more sure of anything."

With that, she turned the doorknob, and they stepped into the bedroom together, closing the door behind them. The night was far from over, and whatever happened next would change everything.

As the door clicked shut behind them, the air in the room seemed to crackle with electricity. Y/N's heart raced as she turned to face Harry, their eyes locking in the dim light. Without a word, Harry closed the distance between them, his hand cupping her face as he leaned in, their lips meeting in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, years of unspoken feelings finally finding their release.

Y/N melted into the kiss, her hands finding their way to Harry's chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms. Harry's other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them in this moment they had both longed for.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Harry rested his forehead against Y/N's. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion.

Y/N smiled, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. "Me too," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was scared it would ruin everything."

Harry chuckled softly, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I think it just made everything better," he said, his eyes twinkling with affection and a hint of mischief.

They stood there for a moment, basking in the newfound intimacy, neither wanting to break the spell. But as the night wore on and the sounds of the party outside faded, they knew they had all the time in the world to explore this new chapter of their relationship.

With gentle hands and tender kisses, they slowly undressed each other, their touches reverent and exploratory. Every brush of skin against skin felt electric, charged with years of pent-up longing and desire.

Harry's fingers traced her skin with a slow, deliberate touch, as if memorizing every inch of her. Y/N felt the weight of his gaze on her, intense and unwavering. She was thankful for the light buzz of alcohol softening the edges of her nerves, allowing her to withstand the vulnerability of his eyes drinking her in. His attention caught on the small scar on her upper thigh—the one she'd earned during a tennis match earlier that year. His fingers lingered there for a moment, gently brushing over it as if to acknowledge it without words.

Without breaking his focus, Harry gently pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. He needed the support, his breath a little unsteady, feeling like his legs might give out beneath him. Harry didn’t feel like wasting anytime. He was hungry for her. He rubbed her entrance with his tip before thrusting himself into her

Their eyes locked, conveying a mix of desire and tenderness. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss as his hips jerked into and out of her.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Harry's hair, pulling him closer as she arched into him. The feeling of skin against skin was electric, sending shivers through both of them. Harry's lips left hers, trailing kisses along her jawline and down her neck.

"Harry," Y/N gasped, her voice breathy with desire. Her hands roamed his back, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark with passion. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice husky.

Y/N nodded, pulling him back up for another kiss. "More than okay," she whispered against his lips.

Their bodies moved together, finding a rhythm that felt both new and familiar. Y/N's nails dug into his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her.

The room filled with the sound of their mingled breaths and soft moans. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in each other, years of pent-up desire finally finding release.

As they neared the edge, Harry intertwined his fingers with Y/N's, pressing their joined hands into the mattress. Their eyes met, conveying emotions too intense for words. With a final, shared cry of ecstasy, they tumbled over the edge together, clinging to each other as waves of pleasure crashed over them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N woke up before Harry, her head pounding slightly from the remnants of last night’s drinks. The dull throb of a hangover tugged at her, but the memories of the night before were as clear as day. Every touch, every whispered word, every lingering moment—she remembered it all.

She lay there for a moment, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. Her gaze drifted to Harry, lying on his stomach beside her, completely naked. The sheet had been carelessly kicked off during the night, leaving him uncovered. His broad back rose and fell with each slow breath, muscles relaxed, and his messy curls fell across his forehead. He looked peaceful, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking.

For a brief moment, Y/N allowed herself to simply admire him—the smooth lines of his back, the slight curve of his spine, the way his body seemed so perfectly at ease. A warmth spread through her chest, not just from the memory of their night together but from the way Harry made her feel in this quiet moment.

With a sigh, Y/N slipped out of bed as quietly as possible. She grabbed a pair of pajamas from her suitcase and slipped them on, the fabric soft and comforting against her skin. Her mind buzzed with thoughts of the day ahead—the wedding, the ceremony and the reception.

She cast one last glance at Harry before tiptoeing out of the room. Heading downstairs, she needed to catch her breath—and some breakfast—before the craziness of the day began.

Y/N stepped into the dining room, her head still throbbing lightly, but the promise of breakfast and some coffee offered a bit of relief. She immediately spotted her cousin and Beth, both looking worse for wear after last night's festivities. Beth was lounging in her chair, sipping a Bloody Mary with an almost smug expression, while Y/N’s cousin—the bride—was nursing her own headache with a cold compress pressed against her puffy face as she slowly nibbled on toast.

"Morning," Y/N greeted, making her way to the coffee pot. She poured herself a steaming cup, hoping it would wake her up enough to handle the day ahead. As she sat down at the table, Beth's eyes sparkled mischievously as she took another sip of her drink.

"So," Beth began, leaning forward, her eyes narrowing as a sly grin crept onto her face. "Where did you disappear off to last night?"

Y/N’s cheeks flared with heat, the memory of waking up next to Harry still fresh in her mind. She tried to act casual, taking a long sip of her coffee before answering. "We just... went to bed early," she said, keeping her tone light and dismissive. "Nothing exciting."

Beth’s grin only widened. "Uh-huh. Sure. You just went to sleep, huh?" She leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Come on, Y/N, don’t be shy. You’re a dirty girl now, aren’t you?"

Y/N nearly choked on her coffee, her face growing even redder as she glared at Beth. "Beth, seriously," she mumbled, her heart racing at how transparent she felt. She could feel Beth’s gaze piercing through her half-hearted deflection, but before she could say anything else, her cousin, the bride, chimed in.

"I’m actually glad we have a moment to talk alone," her cousin said, setting down her toast and shifting her attention toward Y/N. Her voice was sweet, but there was a sharpness to it that instantly put Y/N on edge. "I’ve been wanting to bring this up for a while now."

Y/N turned to face her cousin, her pulse quickening. Something about the bride’s tone sent a wave of unease through her. "Oh?"

Her cousin smiled tightly, pressing the ice pack harder against her swollen face. "I’ve been meaning to say… I’m a bit surprised, to be honest." She gave a small, pointed shrug before continuing. "That someone like Harry would notice… well, someone like you."

Y/N’s heart sank at the words, and though she’d braced herself for comments like this, hearing it still stung. Her cousin’s words were laced with thinly veiled condescension, as if she couldn’t believe that Harry, of all people, would look twice at her best friend.

"Someone like me?" Y/N echoed, her voice calm but guarded, forcing herself to keep an even tone.

Her cousin waved a hand dismissively. "You know what I mean. It’s just... you’ve always been so reserved. So quiet. Harry’s... well, he’s Harry Styles. A global superstar. I’m just saying, it’s a bit unexpected. That’s all."

Y/N's stomach twisted at the familiar pang of insecurity rising to the surface. She’d always known that Harry's fame was a looming shadow over everything, especially in situations like this. But this? This felt personal, like her cousin was questioning her worth, her place beside Harry.

Before Y/N could even think of a response, Beth cut in with a sharp laugh. "Oh, shut up," she said, waving off the bride's thinly veiled insult. "Harry doesn’t give a shit about all that. If anything, he’s lucky Y/N even looks at him."

Y/N shot Beth a grateful glance, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly, but her cousin wasn’t finished. She leaned back in her chair, looking Y/N over once more, this time with an unreadable expression. "Well, I suppose we’ll see," she said, her voice dripping with something that sounded like skepticism. "But it’s just... different. I never would’ve guessed.”

Y/N swallowed, trying to keep her composure, but her cousin’s words clung to her like a cloud. She took a deep breath, refusing to let it affect her. "Yeah," Y/N said softly, managing a small smile despite the way her nerves buzzed. "It is different."

Beth, ever the firecracker, raised her Bloody Mary in a mock toast, her eyes glinting. "Different is good”

Y/N’s cousin continued, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness that made Y/N’s skin crawl. “I mean, you’re just so... simple,” she said, emphasizing the word in a way that was far from kind. “And that’s okay! Not everyone has to be flashy or... you know, glamorous.” She gestured vaguely with her hand, as if waving away any notion that Y/N could ever be more than what she was implying. “You’ve always been the quiet one, the one in the background. I suppose some people might find that... charming.”

Y/N forced a tight smile, but the sting of her cousin’s words began to seep into her chest. Doubt crept in with every backhanded compliment. Was she really that unremarkable? Could everyone else see what her cousin was getting at—that she didn’t quite belong with someone like Harry?

Beth wasn’t having any of it, though. “Simple?” she scoffed, clearly annoyed. “You mean down-to-earth, real, not fake and pretending to be something she’s not—unlike some people I can name.”

But Y/N’s cousin wasn’t deterred. In fact, her smile widened as if she was gearing up to deliver another blow. “Oh, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking,” she said, her voice light but biting. “I mean, look at Harry’s usual type. Models. Actresses. You’ve seen the photos, right? Like that model he was spotted with just last week in London?”

Y/N’s heart dropped. She froze, the air in the room suddenly thick and hard to breathe. Her cousin’s words hit like a slap, each one sinking deeper than the last. “What model?” Y/N asked, her voice barely audible.

Her cousin’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she continued. “Oh, come on, Y/N. Surely you saw those pictures! They were everywhere. Harry looked so smitten with her—they looked completely in love. I honestly thought they were dating. The way he was looking at her…” She trailed off, as if she’d made her point.

Y/N’s mind raced. She hadn’t seen the photos, hadn’t even heard about them. But now, they were all she could think about—Harry, the man she’d spent the night with, possibly entangled with someone else, someone who probably made more sense for him. Someone more glamorous. More fitting.

Beth wasn’t about to let her cousin keep going. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, can you stop trying to stir up drama? Harry’s here with Y/N. He clearly doesn’t care about some random model.”

But Y/N’s cousin just shrugged, a smug look settling on her face. “I don’t know, I just assumed. They seemed so... in love. But who knows?” She smiled sweetly at Y/N, the thin veneer of concern barely hiding her intent to make her feel small.

Y/N's mind was in turmoil. Her cousin's words dug deep, and for the first time, a wave of doubt crashed over her. Maybe she was just the simple friend. Maybe Harry didn’t see her the way she wanted him to, and it had all happened because he had no one else around.

Y/N smiled bitterly at her cousin, the tightness in her chest giving way to a cool, almost eerie calm. She straightened her posture, her voice steady but laced with a simmering edge. "You know," she started, locking eyes with her cousin, "I have so many things I could say to you right now. Things that would probably wipe that smug look off your face for good."

Her cousin blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in Y/N's demeanor, but Y/N wasn’t about to let her interrupt.

"But,” Y/N continued, her voice soft but firm, “since it’s your special day, I’m going to keep those thoughts to myself. I’ll smile, pose, and act pretty just the way you want me to. Your wedding will be perfect, and everyone will say it was magical.”

She paused, letting her cousin squirm under the weight of her words. Then, with a cold smile, Y/N leaned in just slightly. "But after today? Tomorrow, we’ll be strangers. I don’t want to continue speaking to someone so self-absorbed, so selfish, and such a cold-hearted bitch."

Beth's eyes widened, clearly impressed by Y/N’s bluntness, while her cousin's face fell, shock and indignation flickering behind her eyes. Before she could respond, Y/N stepped back, brushing her hands off as if shaking off the conversation. "Now, if you'll excuse me," she said with a casual smile, "let me know when hair and makeup get here so I can head down."

With that, Y/N turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving her cousin speechless and Beth grinning from ear to ear.

However, as soon as Y/N stepped out of the room, her carefully crafted facade began to crumble. The anger that had fueled her confrontation drained away, leaving only an overwhelming sense of confusion and pain. She felt broken inside, torn apart by her cousin’s words and the unspoken fears that had been gnawing at her all along.

Her heart raced, and her mind whirled with doubt. Was her cousin right? Did she belong in Harry’s world? Or was this all just a fantasy she’d been fooling herself with? The thought of going back upstairs to the bedroom—to Harry, who was still asleep, oblivious to her inner turmoil—was too much. She couldn’t face him, not now. Not with all these feelings threatening to spill out uncontrollably.

Instead, she slipped quietly through the back door and into the garden. The early morning air was crisp, a sharp contrast to the chaos swirling inside her. She made her way to a small patio table, her coffee cup still clutched in her hand. The steam rising from the mug was the only warmth she could feel, her insides cold with doubt and hurt.

Y/N sat down, her hands trembling as she took a sip of her coffee. It was bitter, just like the thoughts that filled her mind. She stared out at the expansive garden, but her focus was inward, drowning in self-doubt. The peaceful morning offered no solace, the serenity of the surroundings mocking her inner chaos.

She had no idea what to say, what to do, or where to go from here. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control, and she was left feeling completely lost.

Y/N sat in silence, gripping her coffee mug as if it were the only thing keeping her grounded. The garden, with its blooming flowers and chirping birds, felt like a world apart from the chaos inside her mind. She took a shaky breath, trying to steady her racing thoughts, when the back door suddenly swung open with a loud creak.

Her mother stormed out, her face flushed with anger. Y/N didn’t need to ask why she was there—she already knew. Her cousin had run straight to her, no doubt twisting the story to paint Y/N as the villain.

"Y/N!" her mom’s voice cut through the quiet morning, sharp and demanding. “What on earth did you say to your cousin?”

Y/N tensed, her heart sinking further. Of course, this was coming. She didn’t even look up at her mom, just stared into her coffee as if the swirling liquid could offer some escape.

"She came to me in tears," her mother continued, her outrage bubbling over. "Tears, Y/N! On her wedding day! How could you? What possessed you to be so cruel?"

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her emotions in check. She didn’t want to argue, not now. Not when she was already feeling so shattered. But her mom’s words stung—cruel? Was defending herself really so unforgivable?

"Mom, you have no idea what she said to me," Y/N replied quietly, her voice trembling slightly. "She’s been making snide remarks all morning—about me, about Harry, about everything."

Her mother huffed, crossing her arms. "She’s the bride, Y/N! Do you know how much pressure she’s under today? You could’ve let it go. It’s one day. And now look at the mess you’ve made. The whole family is talking about it."

Y/N’s chest tightened. Of course, it always came down to appearances with her family—how things looked to others, never about how things actually felt.

"I didn’t want to start anything," Y/N said, her voice firmer now. "But I wasn’t going to stand there and let her tear me apart, not today. Not when I’m already—" she stopped herself, realizing she didn’t want to reveal how fragile she felt. “Not when she was so out of line.”

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Out of line? She was simply pointing out the obvious. Harry—he’s not like us. He’s not… your type. And everyone knows it. You should’ve thought twice before bringing him into all of this.”

Y/N’s heart sank even further, her mother’s words only confirming the self-doubt she had been drowning in. She felt like a child being scolded for something she couldn’t help, for simply existing in a space that wasn’t made for her.

“Mom,” Y/N whispered, the hurt seeping into her voice. “Why do you always make me feel like I’m not enough?”

Her mother’s expression softened for a moment, but then she shook her head, dismissing Y/N’s words. “I’m just saying you need to be realistic. Harry—he’s wonderful, but he’s… He doesn’t belong here, in our world. And you… you need to think about what’s best for you.”

Y/N felt a lump form in her throat, and she blinked back the tears that threatened to spill. She didn’t know what to say anymore, didn’t have the energy to fight this battle. The weight of everything—her cousin’s words, her mother’s disappointment, her own doubts—felt like too much to bear.

"Just… fix this," her mother said, her tone softening but still firm. "Make it right before the wedding starts. You owe her that."

Without waiting for a response, her mom turned and walked back inside, leaving Y/N alone once again, drowning in her thoughts, her heart heavy with confusion and hurt.

Y/N took a deep breath, wiped at her tear-stained cheeks, and made her way back upstairs, her feet heavy as she climbed each step. Her mind swirled with her cousin’s cruel words and her mother’s cold dismissal, but she knew there was nowhere else to go. When she opened the door to the bedroom, the scent of warm steam hit her, and she realized Harry was already awake.

He stood by the window, freshly out of the shower, his damp hair curling slightly at the ends. He was toweling his face, shirtless, his back turned to her as he dried off. For a moment, she stood frozen in the doorway, her chest tightening. She didn’t know how to begin, how to navigate the storm of emotions that had been stirred inside her.

Harry turned around, a smile lighting up his face when he saw her. “Hey, there you are,” he said, walking over to her. He leaned in, about to kiss her good morning, when he suddenly paused. His brow furrowed as he caught sight of her tear-streaked face, the redness in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Y/N tried to smile, to wave it off, but her emotions betrayed her. A fresh wave of tears welled up in her eyes. Harry’s face immediately softened with concern. He cradled her face gently in his hands, wiping at her tears with his thumbs. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice low and soothing. He tilted her chin up so that she had to look him in the eye. "Talk to me."

Y/N opened her mouth but felt the words catch in her throat. She didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to be that vulnerable, but the hurt gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she whispered, “Are you seeing someone? A model?”

Harry blinked, taken aback by the question. “What? A model?”

Y/N nodded, her tears threatening to spill over again. “Are you dating a model, Harry? Please… just tell me the truth.”

He stared at her for a moment, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?” He shook his head. “I’m not dating anyone. Where is this coming from?”

Her voice broke as she continued, “I just… I need to know. I heard—my cousin, she said—there were pictures of you with someone in London last week, and I—”

Harry’s face softened with understanding as the pieces clicked into place. “Y/N, listen to me,” he said, his voice steady but full of warmth. “I would never keep something like that from you. You know me better than anyone. If I was seeing someone, you would have known long before this trip. I’m not dating a model or anyone else. It’s just you and me.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time that morning, Y/N felt a sliver of relief. He had said it so confidently, without hesitation, as if the idea of anyone else was unthinkable.

Harry ran his hands down her arms, pulling her closer. “You know how the media is,” he said softly, resting his forehead against hers. “They spin stories, make something out of nothing. I should have told you about those pictures when they came out, but honestly, it was nothing. Just some event—no one important.”

Y/N closed her eyes, the warmth of his proximity calming her nerves. She leaned into him, her hands resting on his chest. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “It’s just… with everything happening here, I don’t know what to believe anymore.”

Y/N let herself sink into his embrace, allowing the warmth of his words to soothe the pain that had been gnawing at her all morning.

Harry held her tightly, his hand gently stroking her hair. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his green eyes filled with concern. "Y/N, we don’t have to stay here," he said softly, his voice steady but firm. "We can pack up and leave. Right now. You have no obligation to stay, especially not if it’s going to make you feel this way."

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart still racing. “But it’s the wedding…”

“I don’t care,” Harry said, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see you cry because of something your cousin said. You shouldn’t have to deal with that. Not for one more second.” He cupped her face in his hands again, his gaze searching hers. “We can go, get in the car, and drive back to London. Just you and me. We’ll leave all this behind.”

Y/N felt her chest tighten at his offer. She knew he meant it—knew he would drop everything for her, even if it meant walking out on the whole weekend. The sincerity in his voice tugged at her, making her heart swell.

“I don’t want to see you hurt, love,” Harry continued. “You don’t deserve this. If staying here means you’ll be miserable, then let’s go. We’ll make our own weekend, far away from all of this. No pressure, no fake smiles, no cruel comments.”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight as she processed his words. The idea of leaving was tempting—so tempting. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to say yes. “Harry, I… I don’t know.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “It’s your call. We can stay if you want, but I need you to know you don’t owe anyone here anything. Not even your family.”

Y/N rested her hands against his chest, leaning into his warmth. The thought of leaving—escaping with Harry—was alluring, but she also knew she couldn’t just walk away. Not now. Not when she had come this far. But his words meant everything to her.

“I… I think I want to stay,” she finally whispered, her voice quiet but firm. “I don’t want to run, Harry. Not from them.”

Harry nodded, brushing a thumb across her cheek. “Alright. But if you change your mind, we’re gone. I’ll pack our bags in a beat” His small smile was enough to make her laugh softly, despite the tears still clinging to her lashes.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning into his embrace again. “For everything.”

“I’ve got you, always,” Harry whispered into her hair. “No matter what.”

The wedding was beautiful, even Y/N couldn’t deny that. Despite everything between her and her cousin, she noticed the love radiating from the bride and groom. Her cousin’s eyes sparkled as she walked down the aisle, and the way her fiancé looked at her—like she was the only person in the world—was enough to make Y/N’s heart swell. She even teared up a little, unable to resist the pure emotion of the moment.

Though Y/N and her cousin hadn’t patched things up, she didn’t feel the need to apologize. She knew she hadn’t done anything wrong. Her cousin’s hurtful words had crossed a line, and Y/N wasn’t about to diminish her own feelings for the sake of keeping the peace. After she had told Harry about everything that had been said, he had agreed. She deserved to stand her ground, and he supported her without question.

As for Harry, he was the star of the wedding—everyone was trying, and failing, to stop themselves from staring. People whispered and glanced his way, captivated by the famous face in their midst. But Harry seemed completely unfazed by the attention. He had only one person in his sights.

Y/N.

She was wearing a sky-blue silk dress that flowed effortlessly with every step she took. The soft fabric hugged her in all the right places, and her hair cascaded in loose waves around her shoulders. Harry couldn’t take his eyes off her. Throughout the ceremony, the reception, and every moment in between, his gaze followed her like she was the most breathtaking thing in the world.

No matter how many people tried to engage him, Harry’s attention never wavered. His hand found hers more than once, squeezing it gently under the table during the speeches or brushing her back lightly as they moved through the crowd.

Every time Y/N caught him looking at her, her heart fluttered. His smile, so warm and genuine, was just for her. She felt it in her bones—the unspoken connection between them that seemed to grow stronger with every passing minute.

As the evening unfolded, filled with laughter and celebration, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. Not only for standing up for herself but also for the man standing by her side.