I never wanted to be that guy. The ex who couldn’t let go, who showed up at her door like some lovesick idiot, hoping for a second chance. But here I was—standing outside her house, gripping a bouquet of roses in one hand, a box of chocolates in the other, and a stupid teddy bear tucked under my arm.

Pathetic.

But I didn’t care.

Because I loved her. God, I loved her.

We used to date for two years. Two perfect, chaotic, incredible years. We met at The X Factor—I remember it so fucking clearly. She wasn’t screaming like the others. She wasn’t pushing for a picture or an autograph. She just smiled, walked up to me, and said, Congratulations, Harry. You were amazing.

That was it. That was all it took. I was gone.

I fell for her so hard, so fast, I didn’t even have time to pretend I wasn’t obsessed. She made me laugh until my stomach hurt. She challenged me, called me out on my bullshit, made me feel real in a world that didn’t always seem real anymore.

And then I fucked it all up.

One night. One stupid night. I was drunk off my ass, barely able to stand, and I kissed another girl. It didn’t mean anything—I barely even remembered it happening. But she saw. She found out. And she left.

I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. Like I was a stranger. Like she didn’t know me anymore.

And maybe she didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t the Harry she fell in love with. But I was now.

Because I changed. For her. Because she was the one.

The one I was going to marry. The one I was supposed to have kids with. The one I was supposed to grow old with. And I wasn’t going to let one mistake take that future away from me.

That’s why I was here. That’s why I wasn’t giving up.

I took a deep breath, raised my hand, and knocked.

Now all I could do was pray she’d open the door.