"Excuse me, you what...?" I lean back on the couch to hear you better. I need you to say those words again.

"I'm pregnant..." you say again, so I had indeed heard correctly the first time.

"No..." I laugh nervously. "You're not, come on, don't joke around like that."

"Harry, this isn't a joke. I've taken five different tests, all of which came back positive. I'm very pregnant." I remain silent for a few seconds, absorbing your words.

I think it's time to panic.

We were together from 2015 to 2016. We broke up just a few weeks before One Direction split up. We didn't break up on bad terms; in fact, we still get along since we have the same group of friends, but things were at a standstill. The thing is, two months ago, at a dinner with our friends, two of them announced they were getting married. We were all very happy, and what do people do when they're happy and with their friends? Drink. We drank a lot, even the water in the vases. While we were drunk, we started to remember our time together, and one thing led to another and...

I curse the Harry of the past for being such a fucking idiot that he didn't wear a condom.

"Okay..." I sighed, "I guess this is serious... and we need to talk about it... oh my god, are you sure you're pregnant?"