The smell of French toast fills the air, mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It's heavenly, and my stomach is already growling in anticipation.

"I can't go in there now," Harry groans, running back into my room like a man on the run. His trip to the toilet had already been a spectacle—like watching a cartoon in real life. First, he peeked his head out, scanned the hallway like a fugitive, then bolted toward the bathroom the second he saw it was clear. Coming back was just as dramatic, his towel barely holding up as he tiptoed back like a thief in the night. And now, fully dressed but utterly distressed, he stands in front of me like a man facing execution.

"Why, baby? It's just my mom. She's cool, don't worry!" I grin as I brush my hair, thoroughly enjoying his misery.

"Are you serious right now? Your mom saw me naked, Ella. Like, completely naked. I shook her hand while trying to hide my nuts with a t-shirt! A T-shirt, Ella! Do you know how humiliating that is?" His hands are flailing, his frustration reaching peak levels. "Thank God for Jimmy's shirt in your stuff. Otherwise, I'd be sitting at the breakfast table wrapped in a goddamn dish towel."

I bite my lip, trying to suppress my laughter. "Are you upset because my mom got to see little Harry?"

He freezes. "Lit—Lit—Little Harry?" He blinks at me in horror. Then, in the most dramatic act of betrayal, he looks down at himself and mutters, "Sorry you had to hear that, buddy."

Oh no. He's talking to it now.

"Little?" He shakes his head in disbelief. "Seriously, Ella? Little?"

I smirk. "I didn't mean for you to hear that, Giant Harry." I lean in toward him, whispering the words with mock sincerity.

His jaw clenches. "You can laugh all you want, but next time this fellow will not be satisfying you."

"Hmm, really? Wanna bet?" I bat my eyelashes innocently.

"Ella, cut it out. What the hell am I supposed to do now?" he groans, running a hand through his hair.

Before I can answer, we hear a loud voice from the hallway.

"Good morning, everyone!" It's Jimmy. Of course, my mother must have called him over.

"Leeeenaaaa," he sings, making himself comfortable. "Thanks for the phone call. You know I can never turn down good food."

Harry and I instinctively move toward the bedroom door like two spies on a secret mission, pressing our ears against the wooden surface.

Muffled voices. Laughter. The clinking of plates and silverware. Definitely more people than we originally thought.

"Shit, shit, shit. This is not good," Harry mutters just as I'm about to open the door.

"Relax, Harry. Things could be worse," I say casually.

"Worse? Like what?" He exhales.

"Like your mom walking in on us actually having sex?" he exhales.

"No, but there's worse than that, too."

"What could possibly be worse than that?" He looks at me like I'm insane.

I tilt my head. "My dad catching us having sex?"

Harry visibly pales. "Oh Jesus. I am never leaving this room. I will grow old and die in here."

"Don't be such a child, Harry. The woman has a husband and a son. She is well acquainted with the male anatomy. Come on, I'm hungry."

"Not this anatomy!" He gestures wildly at himself. "And—and why are you so calm about this?!"

I smirk, reaching for the doorknob. "I'm going out. You can stay. I'll bring you magazines and cigarettes whenever I visit. I'll write once a week."

"I don't even smoke," he mumbles as I step out, leaving him there to wallow in his self-inflicted suffering.

The kitchen is buzzing with energy. The large table is covered with every breakfast delight imaginable—French toast, maple syrup, honey, jam, fresh pastries from my favourite bakery, eggs, bacon, the whole buffet. And there, sitting comfortably, are Chrys, Jimmy, Ed, and Gemma.

How they got here, I have no idea. But this is classic Leena. When my mom cooks, she cooks for an army. When she gives advice, she turns into Dr. Phil. When she's in a good mood, Ellen DeGeneres would look like a cheap knockoff. She is, simply put, a lot. A beautiful, hilarious, unstoppable force of nature.

There are two empty spots at the table—obviously meant for me and Harry, who is still cowering in the bedroom.

"Hey, have a seat, honey," my mom says sweetly, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

Everyone looks up.

The smell of French toast and freshly brewed coffee fills the air, a combination so divine that my stomach practically growls in appreciation.

"Good morning!" I exhale, grabbing a chair and sliding into my seat.

"Is it?" Jimmy quips, raising a brow.

"It definitely is," my mom answers for me, a little too enthusiastically.

"Let me get you some coffee, sweetie," she adds, already moving toward the pot.

"So... Harry's here?" Jimmy asks through a mouthful of food. His casual tone doesn't fool me. Seeing Gemma sitting next to him makes my brain spiral into a series of what if scenarios.

"Yeah," I say simply.

"Where is he?"

"In the room. Hiding," my mom chimes in, answering way too quickly. My face heats up. I can feel his presence behind the door, probably eavesdropping. If he caught that, Liam's definitely doing the shoot alone today.

"I saw him naked," she adds casually, like she's commenting on the weather.

The entire table freezes. Everyone stares at each other, forks midway to their mouths, the silence only broken by Jimmy choking on his orange juice. Meanwhile, I just shrug and reach for a piece of cheese pie.

"Good morning," Harry's voice croaks from the doorway, hoarse and painfully awkward.

Harry had faced thousands of flashing cameras, screaming fans, and industry bigwigs. But none of them terrified him quite like Leena did.

"Good morning, Harry!" My mom beams, far too excited for my liking, gesturing for him to sit.

"Thank you," he mumbles, walking stiffly to the seat beside me.

"'Sup, man," Jimmy greets him casually, like this is a daily occurrence—us all gathered for breakfast, Harry making a grand entrance post-humiliation.

"Good, good," he says, clearing his throat and sitting down.

"Gem," he nods toward his sister. She barely glances up, too absorbed in her breakfast.

"This toast is so good," she says, inhaling dramatically. "Thank you, Leena."

"You're welcome, darling," my mom replies, clearly in hostess mode.

"Coffee, Harry?" she offers, and he nods—probably because words have failed him.

"Ella tells me you're a model," she continues, and I swear he grips his chair like it's his only anchor in life.

Another nod.

"I mean, I can see you must be a great model. Handsome and all," she continues, relishing his discomfort.

Harry swallows hard.

"You could easily be an actor," she adds as she hands him the mug. His hands tremble slightly, so I intervene, gently taking it from him and setting it safely on the table.

"You certainly are gifted," she smirks.

I see it now—she's doing this on purpose.

Harry, rigid and silent, takes the mug, his grip on it like it's his last lifeline.

Then Jimmy, the devil incarnate, jumps in.

"But the real question is..." he pauses dramatically. "What kind of movies is he best suited for, Leena?" He leans forward, his voice dripping with fake curiosity.

The table collectively inhales.

"Do you think Harry could make it in the film industry? Is he truly..." He stresses every syllable, milking it for all it's worth. "Gifted?"

And then—it happens.

Harry, mid-sip, spits out his coffee in a spectacular spray, spluttering and coughing violently.

Gemma and Jimmy collapse into laughter.

I immediately start patting his back, first gently, then a little harder when he raises a hand in surrender, whispering between coughs, "I'm okay, I'm okay."

"Well, since you asked," my mom says casually, waiting for the coughing fit to pass. "Yes, he is quite gifted. But obviously, he wouldn't make it in movies—" she gestures toward him, "can't handle an audience."

And that's it.

The room erupts.

Harry groans, scarlet from head to toe, while the table loses it.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he mutters, dabbing his mouth with a napkin.

"I see where Ella gets her sass and smart mouth, Leena," he mumbles, still recovering.

"Not to mention her beauty and brains," my mom winks at him, doubling down.

Red. He is permanently red.

Harry exhales. "I'll see how you react when the mother of the girl you love meets you with your thing hanging out."

"Don't forget the ass," my mom adds, taking a bite of her pastry.

Harry whips his head toward her.

"You didn't—"

"You were standing in front of the mirror, honey," she deadpans, popping another bite into her mouth.

I swear, I have never heard laughter this loud. The kitchen walls echo with it.

"Anyway, Jimmy, stop teasing him," she finally scolds.

"But Leena," Jimmy pouts, pretending to be disappointed before shoving more food into his mouth.

"Are you hungry?" She turns to Harry.

"Yeah," he admits, offering her a small, defeated smile.

"Still?" she teases.

"Oh, God," he whispers, his soul leaving his body.

"Yes, this is just a preview of my family," I smirk, spreading honey on my toast.

"Here you are, love," my mom says, offering Harry some bacon.

"Thank you, Leena," he sighs, finally accepting his fate.

"No, thank you. Thank you for putting that glow back on my daughter's face," she says softly.

Harry looks up at her, surprised by the sincerity.

"You'll never let this go, will you?" he sighs.

"Not until the next embarrassing moment, so get used to it, son." She winks.

The playful banter continues—Ed attempting to tease Harry (and failing), Chrys sharing a horrifying story about walking in on her parents, Jimmy entertaining us with wild tales of his dating disasters, and my mom laughing as she force-feeds us.

I take a moment to just watch.

The room is full—of laughter, of love, of a group of people who have been through so much but always find their way back to each other. It doesn't matter where we've been, what's happened—we always come back to this.

And seeing Harry here, with me, a part of this, makes me so unbelievably happy.

And yet, at the same time, it breaks me.

Because this can't be his routine. He will be gone tomorrow. Back to a world that doesn't include me in his day-to-day life.

I push the thought away.

I will not ruin this moment.

Two hundred euros. That's all I need. Then I can be with him again, even if just for a few days.

We can do this.

"Are you okay, baby?" Harry murmurs, his voice low, his eyes studying mine.

I blink back my thoughts and smile.

"I'm more than okay."

"Glad to hear it," he whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"Hey, have some respect!" my mom scolds him, making the whole table snicker.

"Next thing I know, you'll be naked again," she cackles.

Harry groans, running a hand down his face. "Dear Lord, have mercy."

Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he leans in and kisses my cheek instead.

At least he hasn't run for the hills yet.