This is so awkward.

This room is uncharacteristically quiet for us. Usually, when we’re together, people can’t get us to shut up. We’d fill the comfortable silences with laughter, banter, or…well, you know…

But it’s different now. We’re different. Instead of laughter and love, our silences are uncomfortable and filled with hate.

Before this, we’d been together for nearing 3 years. You were there with me through it all. The beginning of One Direction to where we are now, at the peak of our success. Things were good, but never perfect. I’d just assumed that’s how all relationships with our dynamic were.

My schedule was always busy. I’d try my hardest to find time with you, but with all the changes my life was going through, it was tough. You’d come on tour with us when you could, but if anything, that made it worse. You’d say you felt excluded around the boys, or ignored by me. But it was worse when you weren’t there. All of a sudden, every article saying I was out all night with other women were fact to you.

This brewed resentment between us. You didn’t trust me and I didn’t like feeling suffocated. A couple weeks ago we decided to call it. It was best for the both of us. Even if, deep down, we still loved one another.

So… How did we end up here? In a doctors office, together, being suffocated by this unbearable silence? Well, because 3 weeks ago, your period was late.

You’re pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. I still can’t believe it. We can hardly stand to be in a room together and now we’re going to have a baby together. We’re only 19, which makes this that much worse.

I finally chance a peek over at you, lying back on the examination table as the ultrasound technician moves the wand around on your stomach. You look nervous and a bit sad, exactly how I feel. It wasn’t supposed to be like this…

“And that right there—“ The technician points to a tiny blob on the screen, “—is your baby.”

My heart constricts in my chest. This is real. That’s our baby.

Holy shit.