Once upon a time, my dear friend Palak @stylishmuser had a dream. She told me that dream and then, within the same day, this video happened. I’m here to put that dream into words. Please enjoy.
Also, @stylesunchained…I dared. I’m sorry.
Harry was waiting patiently for someone on the other end of the phone to answer his call. He had called exactly when he always did; 6:30 on the dot in London, which was half an hour before his daughter went to bed. The nightly ritual had been the same for the past two weeks; he would call before bedtime, talk to his little girl as soon as she had her pajamas on, say goodnight before you tucked her in, and then call back after she was asleep and talk to you until his eyes started to droop. It wasn’t ideal - he would have much rather been home with the two of you - but it was better than nothing.
The familiar and sweet sound of your voice finally echoed in his ears and he saw your face pop up on the tiny screen.
“Hey you,” you smiled, “How are you?”
“Tired,” he replied, rubbing at his eyes a bit to keep them focused, “Lots of meetings and interviews today. Is she still up?”
“Of course. I’ve just had her run and brush her teeth; she should be out soon, she knows what time it is.”
Another few minutes went by as you and Harry talked about what had been going on, but you knew Harry was getting antsy to talk to someone else. As much as he loved conversations with you, he only had a limited time with his daughter before she fell asleep.
“(Y/D/N)!” you called, turning your head, “Daddy’s on the phone and he’s waiting for you!”
It was only a few seconds before the thumping of tiny feet could be heard running down the hallway. A moment later, Harry saw the wild hair of his three-year-old appear in frame and he chuckled.
“Hi, monkey,” he said, waving.
“I miss you. How are you?”
“I’m good. I went to Nana’s today and Auntie Gem was there!”
Harry grinned. “Was she? That sounds like fun. Did she let you play salon with her hair again?”
His daughter nodded, excitedly. That was one thing Harry was so thankful for; a sister who didn’t care if her niece wanted to poke, prod, braid or twist her hair within an inch of its life. Gemma was always game for a little ‘toddler spa day’.
“Daddy, guess how many more days!!”
“Hmm,” Harry thought, “I don’t know. Tell me.”
She held up both hands, folding two fingers down.
“Only this many! An’ then you’ll be home, daddy!”