As The Years Go By

Harry Styles had it all. The new founded fame and fortune, a pretty girlfriend, oh and a wife he hates with a burning passion, but time flies by and he wants to save his precious memories.

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1. Part One

Beep, Beep, Beep.

Harry Styles laid his head on the hospital bed, his crossed arms supporting his head. The 19 year old was tired. His throat was sore, his eyes wanted to drop and his body felt weak. He was worthless.

From the back of the hospital room, his members looked at him with sympathy in their eyes. They stayed rooted in their spots, not even daring to go near the grief-stricken adult. It was the one closest to him, Louis, who broke the long chain of silence.

“Harry,” he cautiously took a few steps towards the man and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “You should go home and rest. She’d want you to do that.”

The curly-haired singer only shook his head. “She needs me here. I don’t want her to wake up alone. Please…let me stay. Just a little bit longer? I don‘t want to leave her.”

Louis gave him a disapproving look. “Harry, you haven’t eaten since we got here. At least think of your health!” He was cut off when Niall, grabbed a hold of his arm.

“Louis,” he said in a quiet voice. “Just let him. He needs this."

“But-”

“Let’s go Louis.” Zayn, who couldn’t stand looking at the unconscious body that laid on the bed any longer, forcefully lead him of the room. He looked back at Harry before leaving. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Not bothering to meet his eyes, Harry silently replied, “of course.”

He heard shuffling behind him before the gentle shutting of the door came. He was now alone with no one to talk to. But Harry didn’t care. At that moment, his whole world had already fallen apart. He didn’t need the false lies that his members would tell him about everything turning out for the best. He knew that that wouldn’t be the case. Not when the woman he loved the most -the woman he wanted dead when they first met-, laid unconscious, with countless bruises and cuts on her body, in front of him.

And his baby. Baby Darcy.

Harry felt new tears building up as he thought about his daughter.The eight month old embryo that wasn’t due to come out for another month. Sophie's once bumpy stomach was now flat. He didn’t know what had happened to him. All he knew, was that the doctors had tried to save the baby first before they had tended to his wife.

“They never even told me if she made it,” he whimpered.

-

June 15, 2013

“Where are they?!” Harry came charging in through the hospital doors, his One Direction members right behind him. His face was pulled in a horrified expression, fist clenched at his side and body stiff from head to toe. He stomped up towards the receptionist, glaring at the nurse who cowered behind the counter. “Where are they?” His voice was menacing. The anger and frustration in his voice was hard to misinterpret.

“I-I’m s-sorry sir,” the small nurse stammered and handed him a clipboard with a paper attached to it. “You have to sign this first and tell me who y-you’re l-looking for before I can tell you a-anything.”

She instantly regretted her decision when Harry slammed his hands down hard on the counter, and growled. “My name is Harry Styles. My wife Sophie Styles is in the emergency room right now! I want to know where she is! She is pregnant with my daughter! If you don‘t give me the number of the floor they are in, I will sue you. Not this hospital. YOU.”

“I-I’ll go check!“ Nodding, the nurse scurried off, obviously afraid.

“Harry,” Liam asked unsurely. “Are you sure that it was the hospital that called you?”

“Yes. My mum said that it was.”

Zayn looked worried. “Does this mean Sophie was really involved in that car crash?!”

“What about her baby?” Niall asked.

It was at the statement when Harry walls fell and he collapsed to the ground with tears spilling from his bright, green eyes.

-

The singer took a hold of his wife’s hand and held it firmly in his. His focus was on her and her alone. Everyone now and then, he would check the heart monitor at the other side of the bed, making sure that it wasn’t drawing a straight line.

“Sophie,” his voice was hoarse and tired from all those screaming and crying from earlier on. “You need to pull through okay? I can’t live without you.”

It was ironic how those words came out of his with such ease. A year ago, he had hated her with a pure passion and had wanted nothing to do with her. As months passed, that had changed. Harry had grown very dependant on her and would be very lost if Sophie ever left him.

When no reply came -not that he expected one-, Harry continued to babble on. Inside he was hoping that Sophie would hear him and listen to his desperate pleas. “I used to hate you, you know that?” Harry caressed her hand as a small smile formed on his lips. “We’re even though, because you used to hate me too…Do you even remember when we first met?”

--

December 25, 2010

It was Christmas. As usual, Harry's parents had planned a Christmas event at their mansion. It was a tradition that was done every year. The 16 year old was not amused. It wasn’t really much of Christmas party. It was more of a business meeting, only they were surrounded by giant Santa Claus figures that his mom had bought, even if both Harry and his step-dad had refused on buying them.

It was the same as every year. Not knowing anyone who was invited, the singer locked himself up in his room. He would usually be on the computer, chatting to one of his friends online. Normally, his parents wouldn’t mind. And so, Harry had expected this year to be the same as all the others. But there was one thing that Harry had learned from that day on.

He was always never right.

Hours later, he had found himself in a tux, entertaining guests and desperately trying to keep himself from turning into his obnoxious self and telling them all off. After all, Christmas was his only holiday that year- jumbling both his singing career and his step-father’s company at the same time, it was hard to find some time for himself.

Finally managing to escape from the crowd, Harry sought refuge in his balcony. He had expected it to be peaceful, expected to be alone but it seemed like fate had other plans.

Clank!

A red shoe came flying towards his direction, hitting him right on the forehead. It was at that time when Harry figured out that high heels were highly dangerous.

He cursed rather loudly to himself and grasped the aching part of his head, yowling in pain. He heard footsteps coming his way. With one eye open, he saw a girl limping towards him, one shoeless foot raised up.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologised in clumsy English, her brown curly locks falling down her face. “I was trying to hit this guy! It wasn’t meant to hit you!”

He glared at her. “Do you think that it’s ladylike to throw shoes at people?”

She raised a questioning brow at him. She was taken back by how he reacted. “Ladylike? I’m sorry, but whatever you may think of me, I am not ladylike at all!”

“Figures,” he scoffed at her. This only angered the girl in front of him. “Or else you would have had manners.”

She gave him a blank look before fury took over, “was saying sorry to you not enough?” Even though she was small in size, Harry could see that she was feisty.

“It was hardly enough!” Harry shot back, shoving the shoe back to its owner.

"Don’t think that I’m going to bow down to you, love.”

“Sweet heart, that’s exactly what I want you to do,” he smirked and winked at her.

She laughed and slipped her shoe back on. “You’re embarrassing yourself.” She gave him a pathetic pat on the shoulder. Then she turned and proceeded to walk away.

Harry seeing this, ran after and spun her back around to face him.

“Hey! Do you even know who you just talked to you?!”

“Erm, a weirdo,” came her sarcastic reply. She fiercely took her arm back from him. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some business with my parents that I need to attend to. Be a good boy and tell me where Mrs. Cox is.”

“What do you want with my mum?”

Suddenly, realisation hit her like a ton of bricks, “y-you’re Harry Styles?!"

He grinned in triumph. “The one and only.”

“Eww!” She instantly took a few steps back away from him. “I have to marry you?! You have such a horrible personality! Eww!"

“Marry me?”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Please tell that you’ve known that we’ve been engaged even since we were seven.”

“You’re joking right?” He raised an eyebrow in question.

--

“I really thought that you were joking,” Harry chuckled sadly. “At that time, I really hoped that you were joking. But as soon as those words came out of your mouth, I knew that my worst nightmare had come true. I, being the son of one of the richest family in England, couldn’t escape the whole idea of arranged marriages. I didn’t want to marry in order to extend my family’s company. I wanted to marry for love.

I already had a girlfriend at that time, and I really liked her. I was happy- contented with my life. I was a soon to be famous idol with a sweet and caring girlfriend, and my parents spent more time at home with me. Then, you came into my life and messed everything up.” With a shaky breath, he continued.

“Would you ever forgive me for cheating?”

And a tear finally escaped his eyes.

--

March 16, 2011

Harry and Sophie had married quickly. Both their parents wasted no time in organising it together without their children’s consents. The two mothers were best friends and it had always been their dream to see their children ending up together.

However, Harry and Sophie were not amused. They had only met each other five times for the past 2 months. All of their meetings were awkward, and the two didn’t exchange words when they didn’t need to. When the day of the wedding came, they were forced to pretend to be a happy newly-wed couple in front of hundreds of cameras and few of One Direction's (angry) fans. It was an arranged marriage and no one had to find out.

They went home that night to their new modern house. It was comfortable, homey and big enough for thirty people. But to them, it felt cold and lifeless. The couple had agreed to sleep in separate bedrooms, each had a set of rules concerning the other.

“You are to stay out of my room and out of my way, understood?” Harry told her as he flicked her forehead. And he walked away before she could curse at him. “I don’t love you, despite what people think.”

The Next Day

Cursing to herself, Sophie shoved her house key into its key hole and twisted the knob. She did not have a good day.

After a long, stressful day at the college, the 17 year old girl had about enough of people badmouthing her. She had gotten involved in so many fights that day that she was surprised that she did not get in trouble.

The next thing she saw as she entered the house, was the last thing she needed that evening.

There sprawled out on the couch was her husband Harry, locked in a passionate and fierce kiss with a brunette. He towered over her, one hand crawling up the girl’s shirt, his mouth slowly trailing down her neck. The girl giggled as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder, one hand getting tangled in his black locks. She whispered something in his ear, making Harry produce a rather sexy, low chuckle. Sophie watched in horror when Harry proceeded to take the brunette’s skirt off.

“STOP!” Sophie furiously threw her schoolbag to the ground, glaring darkly at the two.

At the sound of her voice, Harry and his companion separated as if they were on fire. Giving no time for their excuses, Sophie had stomped over to them and slapped Harry hard across the face. He looked at her in shock but he was not prepared for her next action.

Overwhelmed with anger, his wife had grabbed a handful of his girlfriend’s -mistress'- hair and yanked it hard, which caused the brunette to fall off the couch, face front and landed on the floor, howling in pain.

“You BITCH!” Sophie screamed out, pulling her hair in all kinds of direction. She jumped on top of her, giving her no room for escape and began to claw her with her nails. “YOU SICK BITCH!”

“Please,” the girl pleaded unable to fight back, “stop!”

Sophie did not listen. Harry, who had finally regained himself, hurriedly wrapped his arms around Sophie and hoisted her up, away from the beaten up girl. Scared, she crawled away from them as far as possible while Sophie trashed around in Harry's arms.

“Let me go, you fucking cheater!”

“What is wrong with you?!” Harry said hotly. Anyone could tell that he was furious too. “You could have seriously hurt Caroline!”

“You,” Sophie, eyebrows narrowed, pointed to the girl on the ground. “You better run. Get out of my house, get out of my face and STAY AWAY FROM MY HUSBAND!”

Caroline, scrambled to her feet in fear. Shaking, she turned her attention to Harry and looked at him. “H-harry, I think we should break up. I‘m sorry but I-I c-can‘t handle being with you anymore.” And she ran out.

“Wait Caroline!” Harry ran out after her, after he dropped Sophie to the ground. But he was too late. Caroline was nowhere in sight. His heart broke knowing that their relationship was all over and Sophie was the cause of it all. He stormed back into the house, to find his wife heaving, trying to control her temper. “What the hell did you do?!”

SLAP!

It was the second slap that he had received from her. “Y-you!” Sophie accused in a shaky voice. “You do not get to cheat on me! I gave everything up when I was forced into this marriage and I expect you, you idiot, to do the same! We haven’t been married for twenty-four hours yet and you’re already cheating! I don’t care if we don’t like each other but I’m a woman and I deserve to be respected!”

She shoved Harry to the ground, grabbed her school back and walked away.

And for a fraction of a second, Harry thought that he saw tears falling down her cheeks.

--

“I’m so sorry if I had hurt you back then,” Harry sobbed, tightening his grip around his wife’s hand. “We still didn’t like each other back then but- I still managed to make you cry didn’t I?”

It was a memory that he didn’t want to remember, so he pushed it to the back of his head. He forced himself to remember something happy. Something that was worth remembering. A memory that had lead them to where they were now.

“Do you remember how we became friends, Sophie?”

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