When I finally open my eyes, I’m greeted by the sterile white walls of a hospital room, my body aches and my head feels like it's caught in a fog. I groan softly, turning my head to see you sitting up in the corner chair, your eyes wide with fear.

You look terrified.

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay? Does anything hurt? How do you feel? Do you need-?” Your words tumble out in a frantic rush.

I can’t help but chuckle, though it’s weak and lazy.

Yep. You’re still the same.

Earlier, after a brutal training session, I stepped out of the gym, gym bag in hand. That’s when three guys cornered me, accusing me of cheating in my last fight—the one from last week. Yeah, I know it’s illegal, but whatever. They were just looking for trouble—they wanted money and I didn’t have it. So they started beating the hell out of me. Three against one isn’t exactly fair, especially when they’re packing a knife.

Luckily, someone called an ambulance when they ran off, and now here I am—banged up, bruised and in this sterile hospital room, with you staring at me like I’m some kind of disaster.

“I’m fine, babe,” I murmur, easing myself into a slightly more comfortable position. “Just a few cuts and bruises.”

Before you can respond, the door bursts open, and Niall storms in with a dramatic flair.

“Alright, who am I killin’?” he says, throwing his hands up, making me laugh despite the pain.

“Dammit, Harry, you scared the shit out of us!” He glares at me, then points at you, “Had your poor little woman racing around like she’s in a NASCAR race!”

I frown at him, but a small smirk tugs at my lips.

“Bloody hell, what’s wrong with you, woman?” I tease, amusement in my voice. I can already tell they didn’t give you the full story over the phone.