Maybe

(Niall and Zayn)
When bestfriends Simran & Mollie meet two boys on the tube, will something more become of it? Or will heartbreak be the only thing left?

Maybe.

Will their past change the future? Will their future affect the present?

Maybe.

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84. Hospitals


Pacing nervously outside the emergency room in the maternal ward, I grip the ends of my hair and tug on them in frustration.
***Simmie's POV***


Mollie’s lying literally down the hall from me and I’m missing it because the nurse banished me. As I wait outside, being banished and all, I (for the umpteenth time) run my fingers through my hair anxiously. Niall should be here, it’s his kid. But would Mollie want him here? Hell, would I want him here?

***

Remembering the rushed way I called the ambulance and held my best friend in my arms as she screamed in agony made me realise something. Life’s too short to lose good things on small things. Mollie, the girl who had finally got what she wanted, had lost it because of something we didn’t understand. I lost it with Niall too, but right now, it should be Niall holding her and waiting for the baby. I’m just her best friend not her husband. Seeing the flashing lights charging down the bridge, I hope to hell and back that this will be without the press getting into it; childbirth’s stressful enough. As the ambulance pull up the closer, the wailing sirens pull me from my thoughts as Mollie grips my hand tighter, wrapping her fingers around the palm of my hand. Seeing the pain in her eyes, I feel tears scold my eyes. Blinking them rapidly away, I can’t help but one falling, blending in the rain.

Bundling us into the ambulance, Mollie holds my hands in a death grip. She knows I don’t like hospitals and this to her meant a lot. Looking down at her body stretched out, sheet covering her body and an oxygen mask on, I see her tear stained face: blotches of red coat her face as she throws her head back and groans, feeling another push.

***

 I didn’t give him a chance to explain the cover. Thinking back, I didn’t give him a chance at all. It all could have been a slight misunderstanding, a little perspective work from the press. Pacing some more, I groan loudly, earning more strange looks from the nurses behind the desk. Their peering over the top at me and then whispering between them; and that makes me feel so much better (!) It was empty in the private waiting room - and given the fact it was nearly two in the morning- I wasn’t surprised. Groaning, I fling myself into the yellow plastic chair, nudging the wall with the back of it. Pulling my phone out, I don’t give myself a second to think it through, deciding in doing what was right.

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