He wasn’t supposed to be at the London label headquarters that day. Just a quick meeting to discuss the next single, some press strategy, maybe finalize the promo photos. He’d barely slept, still jetlagged from touring, hair tucked under a cap and his nails painted a faded baby blue.

And then—he saw her.

Standing by reception, looking through her phone, dressed effortlessly like she always used to. A decade had passed since they’d last seen each other. Ten whole years. But time had done nothing to soften the way his chest tightened at the sight of her.

They’d met at 16. He was a nervous new member of One Direction. She was the bright-eyed solo contestant who could quiet an entire room when she sang. Back then, they were kids living in the same house, competing on the same show, sharing whispered secrets in stairwells and brushing hands in the kitchen late at night.

He never told her. Never said out loud how much he liked her. How her smile calmed the storm in his chest. How “oh wow” was all he could think when she walked into a room. And then time happened. The band. The world. Distance.

And now—she was back. Or maybe he was.

Same building. Same label. Two artists with platinum records and heavy hearts.

When she looked up and saw him, the breath caught in both their throats.

Suddenly, he wasn’t Harry Styles, global phenomenon, anymore.

He was 16 again, in striped pyjamas and messy curls, falling in love with the girl across the hallway.