Here is a thing a wrote. Sorry if it’s bad because I didn’t proofread it. There are some sensitive topics that I can’t warn you about without *spoilers* so please read with care. Lemme know what you think.
It had been six months, eight days, and approximately four hours since you had first heard the song. Now, one hundred thirty one days later, you were hearing it again. You watched as he pranced around on the stage, singing the song that had haunted you since you first heard it. There were lots of songs on the album that vaguely hinted at your failed relationship with him, but with Kiwi, it was clear. While you definitely didn’t smoke and you hadn’t owned a cactus since you were twelve, the song was about you.
You felt a pang in your heart as he high-fived Camille. It was ridiculous. You knew the rumors about them were totally false, but it still hurt to see him so at-ease with countless women who would always be prettier and skinnier than you were. That’s why, when he got to the chorus, you threw your remote at the tv screen. You regretted that seconds later when you saw that you had shattered the screen. Whatever. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like you wanted to watch the rest of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show anyway. You couldn’t take it anymore. Not after what happened with Harry.
Honestly, you didn’t quite know what happened. You had been so happy with Harry. The two of you were perfect for each other, but even perfection doesn’t last, apparently. Both of you hadn’t spoken in two months when you told him.
You knew you had to tell him eventually. He had a right to know. You figured it was better to tell him in person, but you were seriously reconsidering as you approached the door to his flat. You almost turned and ran back down the hall, but Harry opened the door before you could. His smile immediately faltered as he saw you frozen in the hallway.
“What’re you doing here?”
“I.. I just needed you to… Fuck… I’m pregnant Harry.”
“Look, I know it’s my fault we broke up and I can’t apologize enough. You know what I was going through… Whatever. I’m fine now and I don’t need your money. I don’t want your help. I just thought you should know.”
Without giving him an opportunity to respond, you turned and sprinted down the hall, hoping he wouldn’t come after you.
The painful memory of your breakup was only worsened by the song. The song that showed you how much you had hurt him. The whole album was just another reminder of how much you fucked up. You couldn’t fix what you had broken. You hadn’t talked to him and he hadn’t tried to call you, even after the baby would have been born. So he didn’t know. He didn’t know that he wasn’t a father.
Picking up the phone, you dialed the number you knew by heart. The number you hadn’t dialed in almost a year.
You prayed he wouldn’t pick up, but luck wasn’t on your side.
“-ello? Why are you calling me?”
“Um… Harry. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I just… I just needed to work through some stuff.”
“Tell me what? About the baby? How is he? Or is it a she? Jesus, I thought I’d never know.”
“Harry… there is no baby.”
“What? Did you really fake a pregnancy? Did you think that would work? You’re the one who ended things.”
“No! God, Harry, of course not.”
“Well then what do you mean there’s no baby?”
“I lost it. I lost the baby.”