I shift my legs, moving from kneeling to sitting, and Harry does the same. Our legs curl behind each other's backs, holding tight, clinging to the proximity we both desperately need—like oxygen, like life itself.

Our eyes are dry now, but we are far from done.

I don't know how many minutes we spend on this floor, but it doesn't matter. This moment, right here, is what glues us back together. It's the point where we reconnect, where everything before fades and everything ahead holds a new shape.

Harry hesitates before pressing his lips to my neck. It's soft, almost uncertain—like he's afraid I'll flinch, afraid I'll reject him.

"I'm sorry," he whispers for what must be the hundredth time. His voice is a knife, his sighs slicing through me, reminding me of what he did and who he did it with.

I swallow the lump in my throat. My hands tremble as I finally find my voice.

"I need to know, Harry."

His fingers tense against my back. "Need to know what?"

I pull back just enough to see his face, to look him in the eye. "Did you sleep with Charlie too?" My voice is barely above a whisper.

"No. No, baby—no. I wouldn't do that to you."

His words should comfort me. They don't. His choice of phrasing is a failure.

I nod. "Okay." I don't look at him. I don't want him to see the hurt pooling in my eyes.

A deep, exhausted sigh leaves him. "Ella, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Then why?" My voice cracks. "It's not like you're short of offers, Harry."

He runs a hand down his face, sighing heavily. "You weren't mine, Ella. You chose to leave. The rules didn't apply. You gave up. She was just... there."

I blink at him, waiting. "And?"

He exhales through his nose, frustrated. "And... I'd seen Chase."

My brow furrows. "So?"

"He was with my friends. Our friends. Talking about you. Ella this and Ella that. She's in France, she's doing this, she's doing that. Shit, I don't know—I got jealous. I knew you weren't with him, Jimmy would've told me if you were, but..." He trails off, raking a hand through his curls. "He was there with you. I wasn't. And I hated that."

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, letting his words sink in. Then I exhale sharply.

"Harry, stop talking."

He stills.

I take his face between my hands, fingers brushing the faint stubble on his jaw. My touch is gentle, almost motherly.

"You say you didn't mean to hurt me—but you did." My voice is soft but firm. "We don't treat people we claim to love like that."

His jaw tightens. I let my thumb stroke over his cheek, softening my words.

"I know we weren't together. Technically, I don't even have the right to be mad. But I am." I take a shaky breath. "I'm hurt because you turned to her—of all people—just to feel good about yourself. If it wasn't wrong, you would've told me. But you didn't. You hid it, Harry. Because it was a stupid, immature, impulsive choice. And you're not that guy. Right?"

His hands tighten on my waist. "I love you more than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life, Ella." His voice is quiet, but the weight of his words is crushing.

"I was faithful to you while we were together. And I will continue to be—if this hasn't broken us."

I hold my breath.

"I don't have to try, Ella." His hands slide up my back. "I don't want anyone else. I'm not restraining myself, avoiding temptation—like I'm some saint who deprives himself. Loving you comes naturally. It's not an effort. It's just... what it is." His voice drops to a whisper. "Effortless."

"Please trust me again."

I exhale deeply. "I trust you."

His face breaks into the smallest, most hesitant smile. "So... are we good?"

I nod. "You coming here—leaving everything behind in an instant to fix us—means the world to me."

His eyes light up.

"But," I continue, "just so you know—I would've still been with you if you hadn't come. I'm not some drama queen who enjoys misery and craves attention. I was just hurt. Still am. Because when I walk into class later, she'll be there.

"Every single day for the rest of the year, she'll be there—reminding me that she had you. That you were hers, even for one night."

Harry shakes his head, gripping my face in his hands. "She never had me, Ella. Never. I was never hers."

His thumbs trace my jaw, voice urgent. "I've always been yours. Even before I told you, even before I called you mine—you owned me. With your cheeky comments and your sass and your beauty. But mostly, with your heart.

His voice wavers. "What you did for my sister... for Natalie... for me... I have no words."

We're crying again, but this time there's no bitterness.

Harry sniffles, then smirks. "Of course, the fact that you're smoking hot helped, too."

He lets out a laugh through his tears—an ugly, snorting, totally unattractive laugh.

I laugh, too. Really laugh.

Suddenly, a voice breaks through our moment.

"Guuuuuuuuuuys?" Chrys calls from down the hall.

"Yeah?" I answer groggily, only now realizing how early it still is.

"Okay, you fucking love each other. Now go to bed before I make popcorn and sit there watching you."

Harry and I burst out laughing. Our hands are still on each other's faces, fingers tracing familiar skin.

The laughter fades, but Harry doesn't move. Instead, his lips press against mine.

It's not lust.

Not passion.

It's confirmation.

That we're okay. That we're whole. That we're one.

I whisper against his lips, "We need to get to my room."

"Eager to get me into your bed?" he teases.

I roll my eyes. "Chrys will kill me. And my ass hurts from sitting on this floor for so long."

He grins, finally standing, his legs wobbling.

I smirk. "How you haven't fallen on a catwalk yet is beyond me."

He throws his arm around my shoulders. "It's a gift."

I shake my head, dragging him toward my bedroom. Routine takes over. He kicks off his boots, tosses his jeans and shirt aside, and slides in beside me.

And for the first time in far too long, sleep claims me instantly.

Hours later, we finally admit defeat and crawl out of bed, reality sinking its claws back into our world.

Harry sits on the edge of the bed, raking his fingers through his wild curls before reaching for his jeans, scattered somewhere on the floor.

He looks up at me, grinning mischievously.

"Leaving you here naked and horny is actually painful." He groans dramatically, fastening his jeans. "But I need to go see Gem and Nat before I leave... and my folks."

His guilty smile is almost adorable.

"Of course," I say, returning his smile, though my heart already aches at the thought of him leaving.

He leans down, kisses me deeply—like he's trying to memorize the taste of me. Then he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.

"I'll be back tonight. Is it okay if I stay here?"

Like he even has to ask.

"Are you serious? Of course you can."

Before he can respond, there's a knock on the door.

"Ella, darling, Mum is here!"

My blood runs cold.

My eyes go wide as I scramble to process the sheer disaster of those words.

Before I can even scream for her to wait, the door swings open.

And there stands my mother.

Harry.
Completely. Stark. Naked.

I freeze.

He freezes.

She freezes.

A long, horrifying moment of silence stretches between us.

Then—

"Holy shit!" Mum blurts out, eyes going straight to where they absolutely shouldn't be.

Oh my God.

Harry panics, scrambling to grab his t-shirt off the floor, holding it in front of himself like a flimsy little shield.

"Mum!" I shriek, already wanting the earth to swallow me whole.

She doesn't hear me. Or if she does, she doesn't care.

Because she's still staring.

I gasp in horror. "Mum, for the love of God, stop staring!"

Harry clears his throat awkwardly.

"Uh... Leena." My mum extends her hand for a handshake.

Harry offers his free hand with his other hand still clutching the t-shirt over his—well, you know.

"Harry," he says mortified.

She shakes his hand. Firm grip. Eye contact.

Well, eye contact with everything but his eyes.

She's still looking.

Kill me. Kill me now.

After a beat, she finally speaks. "I'll go prepare breakfast. Take your time."

And just like that, she turns and strolls off—like nothing even happened.

The door clicks shut behind her.

Silence.

A full beat of horrific, mind-numbing silence.

Then—

I lose it.

Completely, utterly, hysterically lose it.

Laughter bursts out of me in uncontrollable waves.

"Holy. Fucking. Shit!" Harry breathes out, running a hand through his hair, looking positively traumatized.

He slumps onto the bed, face buried in his hands.

"Your mum is hot."

My laughter dies instantly.

"That is what you noticed?" I gasp between giggles, tears streaming down my face.

He lifts his head, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.

"That she is." I reply.

I choke on my laughter, shaking my head.

If you thought I had a smart mouth, you have no idea who you're dealing with, baby.