ineffablywriting - Tumblr blog

ineffablywriting · 1 year

Text

to love someone

Summary: an angsty one shot of one too many broken promises that leads to a broken heart or two

Word count: 2.8K

Warnings: angst, angst and more angst

Harry grinned to himself as he stepped out of the recording booth.

“That’s the one,” he told Jeff, his heart racing with adrenaline at the prospect of a finished album. “I swear, this one’s the Grammy winner, Jeff,” he sighed, collapsing onto the sofa beside his manager.

He’d rung Jeff and got his team together a couple hours ago when he’d been unable to get a melody out of his mind. He’d quickly scribbled together some lyrics on a scrap piece of paper he’d found lying around his apartment and rushed to the studio he had on retainer and worked nonstop for the last three hours getting the song together. And it was perfect - not to toot his own horn.

“You just might be right on that one, H,” Jeff’s smile was almost as wide as Harry’s as they congratulated each other. “We need to celebrate properly,” he pulled out his phone and started to text people. “I’m thinking a party to commemorate the day our very own Harry Styles finished his second album.”

“An award winning album,” Harry joked, closing his eyes and lounging back in his seat with his hands behind his head.

It felt like a weight had lifted off his chest. He’d been stuck in the worst sort of writer's block for the last couple of weeks, unable to even step foot inside a studio or pick up a pen. It had made him almost unbearable to be around. But now it was done and Harry could breathe again.

He let a small smile perk up his lips as basked in the peacefulness that only a completed song - a perfect song - could bring him.

He doesn’t know how long he stayed like that before the doors opened again. He sat up, a smile still fixed firmly on his face, expecting Jeff to walk through the doors. When he saw Nick’s gangly figure walking in instead his smile grew even bigger.

“Grimmy, I did it!” he called out, standing up to give him a hug.

“Finally finished the album, huh?” he lifted a fond brow, giving Harry an equally fierce and excited hug.

“Yup,” he puffed out his chest proudly.

“Congrats, Haz,” Nick patted him on the shoulder, glancing around the room searching for someone.

“Jeff’s in another room organising a party,” Harry explained, letting himself fall back into the lounge.

But Nick shook his head. “I’m looking for your better half,” he turned back to Harry curiously. “I thought for sure she’d be here with you, being disgustingly cute as always,” he joked.

Harry’s face fell instantly. “Fuck.”

“What?” Nick frowned at him, watching the colour drain from Harry’s face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he cursed, scrambling around and looking for his phone. He’d switched it off and thrown it to the side as soon as he’d entered the studio not wanting to get distracted by anything. “I fucked up,” he looked up at Nick in a panic while his phone rebooted. “What time is it?”

“What did you do?” Nick asked, the smile dropping from his own lips as he looked down at his watch and answered. “Just after 10pm.”

“Can you please call her for me?” he asked, getting frustrated at how long it was taking for his phone to switch back on.

“Call her? Isn’t she here with you?”

“I wouldn’t be so fucking stressed if she was, would I?” he glared at Nick, finally able to unlock his phone and open up y/n’s contact information and hit call.

“You didn’t pick her up?” Nick asked, disapproval rich in his voice.

“I forgot!” Harry pulled the phone away from her ear and redialled her number again. “She’s not answering,” he frowned worriedly.

“You forgot.” Nick stated, unsure what else to say. “How could you forget?”

“I don’t know! I was so focused on finishing this album. I haven’t been able to write anything for weeks, you know this. It was only going to be a quick stop and then I was gonna leave and head straight to the hospital. Fuck. She’s still not picking up,” he looked at his phone worriedly, scrolling through all the missed texts he hadn't read and all the calls that had gone straight to voicemail because he’d had his phone off. “What do I do?”

Nick didn’t know what to say. He felt for his friend but he also knew that he deserved to feel this bad for leaving y/n waiting for him so long in the dark.

“Can you call her?” Harry asked him, his green eyes wide with worry. “She might answer you,” he pleaded and Nick didn’t have it in him to deny the request. Besides, he was just as worried for her at that moment. The hospital she worked at wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town and y/n always hated finishing after dark.

She answered him after a few rings and he let out a relieved breath until he heard her hiccup on the other end of the line. “Babe?” he asked quietly, voice soft over the phone. “You ok?”

“N-no,” she told him, honestly. “Not really.”

Nick took a step away from Harry when he reached for the phone, trying to take it off him and speak to his girl. He’d obviously heard her voice on the other end of the line and hadn’t liked what he’d listened in on. He followed Nick. “Gimme the phone, Grimmy,” he hissed, once again trying to reach for the mobile device. His worry was growing with every second he spent not in contact with y/n.

Piss off, Nick mouthed at Harry and moved further away.

But Harry continued to follow. How could he not? He could clearly hear his girl crying on the phone and he knew it was all his fault.

“Hey, love,” Nick said to her softly, rolling his eyes at Harry. “Harold wants to talk to you.”

“No,” he voice was firm this time, losing the hiccups and stuttering but not the sadness. “I don’t want to talk to him right now. I don’t think I’ll want to talk to him for a long time.”

“Y/n…,” Nick began, turning away from Harry when he saw his friend flinch and lowered his voice as he once again tried to move away. This time Harry kept his distance. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” she said firmly. “I mean it very much.”

“Y/n, are you drunk?” Nick asked suddenly as she hiccuped again, this time a slight slur to her words.

“Nooooo,” she extended the word and that was all the confirmation he needed.

“Y/n, where are you?” He asked suddenly, hoping she’d say she was at home in the apartment she and Harry shared.

“Dunno,” she said instead, no real worry in her words.

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Nick asked her a little more urgently, glancing over at Harry. He was frowning, his chest rising and falling in quick breaths the way it always did when he was worried or stressed.

“Give me the phone, Nick,” Harry spoke through his teeth, holding out a hand for the phone.

Wait, Nick mouthed at Harry knowing if he handed over the phone now, y/n would just hang up.

“Y/n,” he spoke gently down the phone, slowing his words into a soothing drawl. “You need to tell me where you are and who you’re with so I can come and get you, yeah?”

“No,” she said stubbornly, and now that Nick was listening carefully, he could hear cars driving by in the background and imagined she was stumbling around outside, drunk and alone. He knew Harry was thinking the same as his fists were curled up beside him and his cheeks had turned pink. He was angry now, but his eyes gave away his worry. “I don’t wanna go home. I don’t wanna see Ha-him.”

“Aww, come on, love. Don’t be like that,” Nick soothed, while Harry flinched back at y/n’s tone. She hadn’t even been able to say his name. “He got distracted finishing his album, he didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sure it won’t happen again.”

“‘At’s what he said last time,” she said, this time her voice soft and filled with hurt. “Last time and the time before and the time before that. He always forgets everything.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Nick replied, doubtfully looking over at Harry.

“It is true. Ask him. He’s there with you listening to everything. Ask him where he was on our second anniversary and his birthday dinner last year that I begged to take time off work for. Ask him where he was when I graduated and what he was doing when I asked him to come to my work’s Christmas party last year. He’s always late or doesn’t show up at all. I waited for him for an hour today before I gave up and Kiera invited me out for drinks,” she paused and took a deep breath, letting out a scoff before she spoke again. “I bet he doesn’t even know who that is. You know he never asks me about my day unless I ask him about his first. He doesn’t ask me anything about who I spent my time with or what I did that day. All he talks about is the song he wrote and how good or bad it was, about how Mitch and Sarah did something so talented I missed out on a magical moment, about how he’s going on tour soon and didn’t even ask me if I could come with him.”

“Harry?” Nick quizzed, looking over at his friend. “Tell me she’s exaggerating.”

But Harry shook his head. He hadn’t realised how far down his list of priorities y/n had fallen until he’d heard her drunk, broken voice over the phone. He’d stood her up on their anniversary that year, having had a long day of meetings with his management, he’d gone straight home and fallen asleep in his suit. He’d woken up to y/n walking into their bedroom, heels in her hands and a small, sad smile on her face. She’d stroked his head and asked him if he’d had a long day and he’d nodded, told her she looked nice and how he hoped she’d had a good time at whatever event she’d been at. Y/n’s smile had tightened and she’d just urged him to go back to sleep and get some rest. He hadn’t even realised it had been their anniversary until a few days later when Gemma had asked him what he’d gotten her.

He’d seen in her eyes how hurt she’d been when he’d finally given her a present, but it had been too late. He’d known it then and swore he’d never mess up so badly again.

But he had.

Over and over again.

She was right. He’d missed almost every single milestone in her life and she’d never missed a single one of his.

He’d been taking her for granted for so long, he’d just assumed she’d leave her job behind and come on tour with him indefinitely, even though he knew how hard she’d worked to get to where she was. He was so proud of her, and he didn’t think she even knew that, because she was right.

He’d shown up late to her graduation, hadn’t met any of her colleagues or attended any of her work events, even after she’d asked him over and over again - he’d always promised her next time, but next time never came and eventually she’d stopped asking. He didn’t even remember the last time he’d asked her about her life.

“Fuck,” he cursed, running his hands through his hair in distress. He was worried and guilty and all he wanted was for y/n to be next to him, her cute little smile on her face as they cuddled so closely they may as well have been glued together.

He grabbed the phone from Nick’s hands before he could move it away again, holding it close to his ear and dancing away from his friend as he spoke down the line. “I’m so, so sorry, Sweets,” he said gently. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He prayed she believed him.

There was no response on the other end of the line, just some heavy breathing and in his mind’s eye, Harry could just see his girl taking deep breaths to try and keep herself from crying, to try and keep herself calm. It was something she’d done from the very first time they’d had a fight and he’d seen her cry. He’d hated seeing it then and he hated hearing it even more now. Especially when he heard her sniffle quietly, as though she’d moved the phone away to try and hide her tears from him.

“Please don’t cry,” he begged her anyway when still no reply had come through, but Harry was hopeful that she hadn’t hung up the phone yet like she’d promised she would. “I hate it when you cry.” He didn’t mention how much worse it was when he was the reason she cried this way.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Ha-Harry,” she sighed. “Give the phone ba-back to Grimmy.”

“No,” he said firmly, clenching his teeth and pacing back and forth while his other hand brushed through his hair trying to shake out some of the tension in his limbs. “No,” he repeated more gently this time. “Please, just tell me where you are so I can come and get you?” I just want to make sure you’re safe, he thought to himself.

“Don’t wanna see you. Why can’t you just leave me alone when I want you to? You haven’t been around for weeks and now you want to pretend to care?” she asked him harshly.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as his shoulders hunched inwards. He’d had his heart broken before, but never had it felt so painful before; as though he’d never be able to put himself back together again. “I know I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately. I know I’ve been forgetful and neglected you. I know. But please, Sweets, can we just talk face to face? Please, just - just let Grimmy pick you up.”

Y/n was silent on the other end of the line for a couple of heartbeats before she let out a choked sob. “You forgot me,” she murmured. “You didn’t answer any of my phone calls or texts. You didn’t even - sometimes it feels like you don’t love me anymore,” she admitted. “Sometimes it feels like you’re only with me because it’s easier than breaking up.”

“That’s not - no. Y/n, no. You can’t believe that. You can’t think that. You know - you have to know that’s not true,” Harry implored, stopping his pacing in the middle of the room. He looked completely lost, as though just the idea of not having y/n around made him question his place in the world.

“Please give the phone to Grimmy, Harry,” y/n finally said. “I’ll tell him where I am. I - I think I want to stay with him tonight. Please don’t come over,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk anymore tonight. I have a headache and I’m tired.”

Harry took in and let out a shaky breath, handing the phone back over to Nick. “Here,” he said, walking back over to the couch dejectedly and falling into it. It was a big contrast to the way he’d collapsed into it earlier with all the joy of a completed album sitting like a crown on his head. Now his whole world was falling apart in front of him.

He thought of the rings he’d been looking at. He thought of all the times he’d walked past a jewellery store and itched to walk out with an engagement ring. He thought of all their friends who were having kids and how the only person he could see himself having a family with was y/n. And he thought about how everything was being snatched out from under him because he’d been so selfish the last couple of months. How he’d been growing more and more selfish over the last year of their relationship.

He had to fix this.

He didn’t know how, but he would fix this.

“I’m gonna go get her,” Nick spoke softly, tapping Harry on the shoulder. “You should get home and get some rest too,” he told him.

“I’m going to fix this,” Harry said to Nick, desperation thick in his words.

“I know you will, mate. I know you will,” Nick ruffled his hair fondly and walked out the room, leaving Harry sitting dejectedly on the couch.

Hellooooo, please let me know what ya'll think. I would LOVE some feedback <3

My requests are also open

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry #harry styles angst #angst #harry angst #one direction #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry imagine #harry one shot #1dff

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ineffablywriting · 1 year

Text

break my heart again

an angsty one shot about overheard conversations, Grammy awards and a girl who just wants to be loved

“I’m sorry,” Harry apologised, regret etched into his face.

“Don’t be,” Bella replied, not turning to look at him. “I can’t say I didn’t see this coming.”

“It’s the Grammy’s,” He implored, reaching out and tugging on her shoulder to get her to look back at him.

She shrugged his arm off and took a step further away before sucking in a deep breath and turning to face Harry once again. “I know. And I get it. I really get it, Harry. This is a big opportunity for you and you have a real chance of winning.”

“Yes, exactly!” He said in relief, allowing a small smile to curl his lips. But Bella didn’t smile back and his own slipped off just as quickly as it had appeared. “There’s a but,” he stated.

“There’s a but,” Bella nodded. “My sister’s wedding is on the same day. You knew this.”

“I know,” he agreed.

“But this is more important to you,” Bella continued for him.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Harry replied sharply, his lips turning down as he tried not to snarl. He hated when people accused him of things when they had no idea what was going through his head.

“I’m not,” she shrugged. “I heard you on the phone to your manager,” she took another step away from him.

“You were listening in on my phone calls?” he glared at her, feeling a pinch in his chest. He ignored it, refusing to acknowledge the trickle of guilt forming in his heart.

“You know I wasn’t,” Bella shook her head, already so disappointed she couldn’t even find herself feeling angry at his accusal. “I had come over cause we were meant to go to dinner that night. You were the one who gave me a key to your house, remember?”

Another step back, and this time Harry’s eyes flashed as he stomped across the room and stood right in front of her. “Why are you slowly stepping further and further away?” he asked her, his voice a low growl. “We need to talk about this. You can’t just decide to leave.”

Bella swallowed back the lump in her throat and looked away from him, her eyes landing on her shoes as she tried to draw up enough courage to say what she needed to say.

“This isn’t working, Harry,” she told him.

“What do you mean?” he took a sudden step back, his voice once again back to its normal decibel.

“I mean, I think we need to stop pretending this, whatever this is between us, is working. Your career is always going to be more important to you. I will always be further down that list. I don't even come in second,” she scoffed bitterly, wrapping her arms around her stomach to try and hold herself together as she felt herself fall apart inside.

“What the fuck are you on about, love?” he scoffed right back. “You’re talking rubbish. We’ve known each other our whole lives, no one else works as well as we do.”

“Harry,” Bella sighed, looking up at him once again. “I know.”

“Know what?”

“I’ve known from the start. This thing between us was never real for you.” She lifted a hand and rubbed away the lone tear that had escaped. She hadn’t even felt them building.

“What?” This time Harry took a step back, fear of what Bella was saying and worry about what she was about to reveal, causing his heart to race.

“I heard you talking to Jeff that day over a year ago, before you asked me out. How dating me would be great for your image since we’ve known each other longer than almost anyone else. How dating someone who wasn’t famous would be a better brand for you, to make you more relatable to the fans. How it would make you more endearing,” she spoke, not taking a breath and letting out all the words she’d buried deeper and deeper in her chest for the last year of her life. “I’d hoped maybe, just maybe that you’d fall in love with me too. I thought maybe when you gave me a key to your place it meant that you cared just a little. But I was wrong. And I don’t blame you,” she continued. “It was my fault. I knew what I was getting into and I did it anyway.”

“Bella,” Harry paused and took a deep breath then started again. “I…fuck. I should have told you from the start,” he began, hating the heartbroken look on her face. “But you have to know that I do-”

“Don’t,” Bella stopped him, anger written all over her face. “Don’t lie to me,” she told him. “Not anymore.”

“Did you even realise that I also got the email Jeff sent to you and your management and PR team?” she asked him.

“No,” Harry looked horrified, feeling sick at the reminder of the words he’d read and the words he’d typed back, hitting reply all in the email.

“Yes,” Bella said sadly. “So I’m saving you the trouble. Here’s my key,” she placed it on the coffee table by the door where Harry had thrown his own keys. “I’ve already told my sister that you won’t be able to make it to her wedding - she said congrats on the Grammy nomination and she hopes you win. So, you don’t have to worry about finding an excuse to - what was it you called it? - an excuse to get out of going to a stuffy event that you didn’t care about?”

Harry flinched at the harsh words he’d used. He remembered being so angry and frustrated that day that he’d been rude in every conversation he’d had, and every email and text he’d sent. Things hadn’t gone right in the studio and he’d taken it out on everyone around him.

“Bella,” he tried again, but she held up a hand.

“Don’t worry, Harry,” she sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Like I said we don’t have to pretend anymore, at least not between us. I know you want to go to the Grammy’s. And I know you want it to go off without a hitch, so I won’t say anything.”

“Say anything?” he repeated, dumbly. “About us being broken up,” she told him, not meeting his eyes.

“Broke-broken up?”

“That’s the next step according to the emails. They all seemed to think I was in on all of this,” she waved her hands around between the two of them. “So they sent me a timeline of when and how we were to break up and all the things I was and wasn’t allowed to say about it.”

“They did what?” Harry asked, and when she looked up at him he looked furious.

“Yeah,” Bella reached into her bag and pulled out a crumpled up piece of paper with a list of instructions on it. She handed it over to Harry. “I- I thought you would have helped come up with these.”

Harry was silent for a couple of minutes, reading down the list, his jaw clenching and unclenching as his fingers tightened on the edges. “I would never come up with anything like this,” he told her, looking up. His eyes were pleading with her to believe him. But Bella just shrugged and looked away, and Harry didn’t think his heart had ever ached this much in his life. “It still doesn’t matter,” she told him.

“Of course it matters!” He hissed. “No one told me about this shit,” he waved the paper at her.

Bella smiled a little bitterly, her eyes once again looking so sad. “No one told me about our whole relationship, so I guess that kinda makes two of us.”

He flinched back at her comment and she regretted saying anything. Despite everything, she still didn’t want to hurt him.

“Like I said, it doesn’t matter,” she shut her eyes, counted to ten and then looked back up at him. “I already agreed to all the conditions. You’ll go to the Grammy’s and win your awards and feel accomplished, and I’ll go to my sister’s wedding and spend the day with my family pretending everything is fine between us. Then a few weeks later, your team will let it slip to the media that we’re going through a rough patch and a couple days later we’ll confirm that we’ve broken up,” she told him, not an ounce of emotion behind her words.

Harry hated it.

“No,” Harry shook his head. “I don’t want to break up.”

“Harry,” Bella sighed, this time sounding exasperated. “Not everything is about what you want.”

“I know that,” he said defensively.

“Then you need to accept that this is happening.”

“You-you want to break up?” he asked her, his chest tight. He couldn't breathe.

Bella shook her head and Harry almost felt a little bit of relief until she spoke again. “I want to be loved,” she said sadly. “And I don’t think you know how to do that.”

She took a step forward and gripped Harry’s hand. “I hope - I hope one day you’ll realise your worth isn’t defined by your success and I hope that one day you’ll be able to let yourself fall in love with someone who makes you forget about the rest of the world enough that you put them first. And I’m sorry that wasn’t me.”

Then she turned and walked out the door, leaving Harry clutching hold of the locket he’d given her. He opened it and stared at the two photos she’d placed inside one night when they’d been cuddled on the couch watching a movie.

The two images stared back at him, teasing him cruelly with the smiling faces of himself and Bella when they were ten. The same smiles were on the other side with a picture of them ten years later when they’d recreated their childhood photo.

He didn’t realise he was crying until a single tear dripped onto the locket.

Helloooo, it’s been a while. A lot has changed in my life so I’ve been a bit busy haha. I would love some feedback tho. I haven’t written anything in over a year so I’m feeling a little rusty. Let me know what y’all think! 🫶🏼

#harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles fan fic #harry styles #album of the year #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry fic #harry styles oneshot #one direction fanfic #one direction fanfiction #my writing #writing

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ineffablywriting · 1 year

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Dive In

When swimming sensation harry styles finds out, along with the rest of the world, that his long term girlfriend turned ex turned swim team member is dating one of their fellow teammates, he panics.

His name is in the tabloids for all the wrong reasons, despite having just won gold in the world championship 100m freestyle last year.

So when his photo is snapped in the water with his arms wrapped around a girl he’d only just met, he doesn’t bother to correct the media when they claim she’s his girlfriend, in fact he shares the photo to his Instagram and watches the world go wild.

Now all he has to do is convince that same girl to play along. He did save her life, after all.

A story of late nights, sore limbs and learning that some hearts are worth more than what you paid for

#harry styles #hs #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #1dff #harry styles fan fic #harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry fic #harry fanfic #harry imagine #my writing

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ineffablywriting · 2 years

Note

https://ineffably-styles.tumblr.com/post/162898713498/8-for-harry-and-jazz-please

that’s it???????? after everything he did and said he says the worst apology and all is forgiven😭😭😭

well, i planned on a permanent breakup, but was told under no circumstances was that acceptable by friends so had to come up with something real quick

#harry styles fanfic #my writing #anon

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ineffablywriting · 2 years

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جنازة مهيبة لتشييع جثمان الشهيدة شيرين أبو عاقلة وهي تنقل إلى مقبرة صهيون لتدفن بجانب والديها في القدس المحتلة

A magnificent funeral for the funeral of the body of the martyr Sherin Abu Aqla as she moves to the Zion cemetery to be buried beside her parents in the occupied Jerusalem

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ineffablywriting · 2 years

Text

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ineffablywriting · 2 years

Text

huge if true

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ineffablywriting · 2 years

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Psychology of Love

Part one: business 101

A story of spreadsheets, mismanaged expectations, and a boy and girl who help each other find their way

Amira scrolled through her database of growing clients, most of them with photographs attached - some of them very obviously photoshopped. Mira scoffed at one that had been edited so poorly the doorframe in the background had a very odd curve to it. She deleted it instantly as she sipped on her chai.

The time on her computer read that it was just after eleven o’clock on a Friday morning and she had a lunch date with her mother at twelve. She sighed and closed her laptop screen and rubbed her eyes, accidentally smudging the lenses in her glasses in the process.

She took them off to clean them, considered putting in her contact lenses, but immediately brushed that idea aside. She knew her mother would love it if Mira wore her contacts more often and she just wasn’t in the mood today to hear her mother tell her how beautiful her face would be if she’d just take her glasses off more often.

Amira liked her glasses. They hid away so many of her flaws - like the dark circles that were always way too prominent under her eyes, and the bags that often made an appearance along with them. Especially when she’d had too much coffee and not enough sleep.

She thought about canceling. Just calling up her mother and telling her she wasn’t feeling too well today, but she knew that would only lead to worry and a visit she wasn’t prepared for - she glanced around the apartment, the week’s laundry piled on the couch and the unclean dishes sitting in the sink.

She huffed out a breath, she was just going to have to pluck up the courage and sit through whatever well meaning criticisms her mother had for her today.

Tucking her laptop into a messenger bag and swinging it over her shoulder, she slipped on her shoes and made her way out the door. She had a twenty minute drive ahead of her and she knew parking was going to be difficult, so the earlier she got there the less likely it was that she’d be keeping her mum waiting for her - if there was anything Amira disliked, it was people who weren’t on time.

She had just stepped foot into her parking garage when her phone started ringing.

A picture of Amira’s mum lit up her screen and she answered straight away. “Hello?”

“Oh, Amira darling, I’m so sorry. I hope you haven’t left home yet?” Her mum’s frantic voice called down the line.

“No,” Mira began slowly, fighting down the rising concern at her mum’s tone. She was a practical person, if her mum was calling her, it wasn’t life or death. “I was just about to get in the car, though. Is everything ok, mama?” she asked.

“Oh, everything is fine, sweetheart. I’ve just completely mixed up my days. Your father and I are going away for the week.”

“Yeah, you told me your flights were tomorrow?” she posed it as a question, even though she was already starting to realise what was happening. “You’re leaving today, aren't you?” Mira asked, letting out a relieved breath.

“I’m so sorry, darling. Can we reschedule for when we come back?”

“Sure, mama, don’t worry about it. What time is your flight? I was supposed to take you and baba to the airport.”

“In 2 hours,” her mum replied sheepishly. “We’ve called an Uber.”

Amira sighed, a little relieved and a little disappointed she wouldn’t be seeing her mum today. “Well, have a safe flight. Tell baba I love him.”

“He loves you too. See you when we get back, Mira. Be a good girl.”

“I always am,” Mira rolled her eyes. No matter how old she got her parents would always treat her like she was a child. And as much as she hated to admit it, she knew that they would probably continue to do so until she settled down with a husband. It was an unfortunate part of her parents' culture.

“I know you are,” her mum hummed back fondly. “I better go, the Uber is here. Bye-bye.”

“Bye, mum.”

Amira hung up the phone and remained standing in the same spot for half a minute before deciding she wanted to go out for lunch anyway. She’d made a reservation after all, and she was quite keen not to cook something at home - not with the pile of dishes already waiting for her.

She was glad she’d brought her laptop with her, deciding on the drive that it was a lovely day to work outside. She’d always loved the idea of sitting in a cafe and tapping away on her laptop like something out of a romance movie.

Amira grinned at herself, glad no one else could read her mind.

It didn’t take her very long to find parking and the short walk to the cafe did wonders to her stiff muscles - she really needed to go out for walks more often now that her whole job was practically computer based.

She’d just sat down at her table and pulled her computer out when a trio of aunties caught her attention as they were walking out. Mira tried to make herself smaller and sink deep into her seat in avoidance. She recognised one of them as someone she had met with not long ago in the hopes of finding her son a wife.

Mira had set up the match within weeks and wasn’t surprised to get an email a few months later from the mother thanking her so much for finding her son’s perfect match - which was great, until she’d gotten to the last line of the email about how unfortunate it was she hadn’t found her own match and that she shouldn’t give up hope, surely there was someone out there for her as well, just maybe not as good looking or as successful, as her son. And Mira got it, she really did, she was proud - like most aunties were - but it had still gotten under her skin that people always assumed Mira was single because of other people’s choices and not by her own decision.

So she hunkered down and hoped they would pass by her table without seeing her. But of course, Mira couldn’t be that lucky.

“Amira?” Auntie Sara asked, walking right up to her table and tapping her on the shoulder.

“Oh, hi Auntie,” Mira forced a smile, sitting up straight in her seat as she turned to look at the three women. “How are you?” she asked politely.

“Good, good,” she smiled warmly down at her. “I was going to email you later to let you know the good news! Sangeeth is getting married,” she announced happily.

“Congratulations,” this time Mira smiled more genuinely, her face softening at the pure happiness radiating from Auntie Sara’s face.

“Thank you, thank you. Would you believe we didn’t even have to push him into the proposal. He came to us all on his own!” she announced proudly.

“Well, they were the perfect match on paper,” Mira replied, unsure what else to say. She was just about to turn back to her computer, when Auntie Sara continued to speak.

“I was just telling my friend Laura here about you,” she continued, turning to gesture at the small brunette woman beside her. “She’s having trouble with her boy. He’s very handsome and bright, but doesn’t seem to have much luck with the good sort of girls, you know?”

Mira wasn’t surprised when she whispered the last part of her sentence, as if afraid someone might overhear her speaking of such indelicate topics. Cultural taboos irritated Mira so much she felt her smile turning to ice; why was it always the girls’ fault?

But Auntie Sara continued, nudging her two friends to take the seats across from Mira in her booth and completely unaware of the sudden shift in Mira’s mood. “He’s such a good boy, but he hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was, I think 16?” she turned to look at Laura for confirmation and Mira noted the discomfort on the Auntie’s face, even as she nodded her affirmation.

“I know you are a busy girl,” she continued, steamrolling the conversation. “But perhaps you could arrange a time to meet? She can tell you all about him. Harry thought it was a good idea too, didn't he, Laura? He made you that binder about all the things he was looking for.”

“Yes,” Laura admitted, clear discomfort on her face. “But if Mira is too busy then I don’t want to intrude,” she gestured to the laptop that was sitting untouched between them.

Mira smiled appreciatively at the woman across from her. There were a million things running through her head at the moment, but all she could focus on was that if Laura genuinely did want her help for her son, this would be the first Western client she would have. And Mira had never thought she’d be able to crack that market given the cultural, and sometimes even socioeconomic, differences between her business model and those who applied for her help.

“No,” Mira finally managed to choke out. She cleared her throat and started again. “No, I would be glad to help, Auntie Laura. In fact, I probably have a few spare minutes right now if that’s suitable to you?”

“Just Laura is fine, dear,” she replied. “And please I don’t want to interrupt your morning.

“Nonsense! Mira said she was free,” Auntie Sara clapped her hands. “We’ll leave you to it, then.” She stood up, pushing her friend out of the booth along with her. “It was really lovely to see you again, Mira. Good luck. Call me later, Laura, we can talk through Harry’s options together when Mira gives you a list.”

Mira grimaced at the phrasing. She really hated it when her work was reduced to something as trivial as a pick and choose option. So much thought and time went into the matches she made, and Mira especially hated it when mothers like auntie Sara treated the girls as though they were trophies sitting on a shelf for her son to pick. But she couldn’t change mothers she’d learnt long ago and Auntie Sara had just helped Mira crack a market she hadn’t thought would ever be possible, so she had to be a little grateful to her.

Once they had left, Mira turned back to Laura and waited patiently for her to say something. She found it was always best to let the mum’s dictate how the first meeting ran. She always found out more than she would when she asked all the questions. It had taken her a lot of trial and error to figure out the proper technique to interview her clients.

“I’m not really sure where to begin,” Laura started after a half a minute of silence. “Thank you for fitting me in, I know Sara can be a little pushy sometimes,” she said apologetically.

“That’s ok, I actually had a free morning today. Besides, first meetings usually don’t take too long anyway. And you can begin anywhere you’d like. I usually just let people tell me what they want out of the process and we go from there.”

“Well, I guess, my son's name is Harry. He’s twenty-nine. A doctor. Sara’s always asking him about finding a nice girl to settle down with and Harry has always charmed his way out of answering her,” she rolled her eyes fondly, visibly relaxing as she spoke about her son. “But then when he heard Sara talking about how you helped her son find a ‘nice girl’, he asked me why I wasn’t doing the same for him. I’m pretty sure at the time he was joking and only said so to keep Sara from pestering him, but then, a few days later he told me he’d made a list of what he’s looking for. So he emailed it to me and asked me to meet with you. I kept putting it off because I was sure he’d tell me it was all some sort of a joke, but he hasn't said anything since.”

“Do you have the list with you?” Mira asked.

Laura looked a little sheepish as she replied. “I do, but I should warn you it’s…”

“Excessive?” Mira finished for her.

“Yes,” Laura said, relieved that Mira had answered for her.

“That’s ok, most of the lists I receive are pretty far fetched, but I’m sure I can work with it,” she assured Laura. “Here’s my email and my phone number. I’d appreciate it if you could send the list to my email so I can have a look at it in proper detail when I’m not sitting in a busy cafe. My phone number is for both yourself and Harry, if you guys have any further questions you’d like to ask about the whole process. I’d also like to set up a time to meet him in person, with or without you present. Whichever works for you guys. It helps me get a better feel for my clients and what they’re looking for.”

“I’ll send you the list right now.” Mira watched as she pulled out her phone and opened up her email and started to forward the file she’d asked for. She couldn’t help but have a couple of reservations about Harry, but she was determined she wasn’t going to just pass up on this opportunity just because he might be a little difficult. Difficult clients were a guarantee in her field of work and Harry wasn’t going to be her first or last.

They wrapped up soon after, with Laura promising she would talk to Harry and pass on the details of their meeting and get him to contact her about setting a time for a face to face with him soon.

Mira hadn’t heard anything from Harry for a few days after her initial meeting with Laura and had started to wonder if he would ever contact her at all. Her reservations had only intensified after she’d had a chance to read through the document Laura had sent her. It had been full of ‘do’s and don’ts’ in a relationship, what he wanted his ideal girl to look like, her height and weight and hair colour, her professional aspirations, right down to how many kids he wanted to have and their sex.

It was enough for Mira to suspect that Harry wasn’t serious about any part of this and had mostly just made the document to get his mother off his back. After all, if no girl could fit his criteria, then surely he couldn’t be at fault for remaining single.

Sometimes Mira wished she could be a boy. If she had the same criteria for a partner that Harry had, she’d be told she was asking for too much, that she should lower her expectations, who did she think she was asking for so much.

She shook those thoughts from her head and rubbed her eyes. She’d been staring at her computer for too long without blinking again.

She picked up her mug to take a sip of her chai only to find it empty. With a sigh she stood up and headed into her kitchen to get the kettle running.

She scrolled through her phone while she waited, looking through instagram and facebook, unsurprised when she found another one of her friends from high school married or pregnant. She liked their photos and moved on.

Mira had learnt long ago that if she ever commented a congratulations, some well meaning auntie always replied with a variation of ‘one day it will be your turn soon, don’t give up!’.

The text came just as her kettle had finished boiling the water. It was from an unknown number, so she ignored it in place of making her tea first, giving her something to do while it brewed.

It took her brain a minute to actually comprehend what she was reading, everything having turned to mush after hours of trolling through client profiles trying to find her next match.

Hi, this is Harry. My mother, Laura, gave me your number and said you wanted to meet with me in person. I’m on call for the rest of this week but free on Saturday morning, if that suits? Thanks, Harry x

Mira read over the text three times before she managed to type out a reply of her own letting him know Saturday worked for her and asked him to send the time and place.

When the response came for nine o’clock in the morning at a cafe in town, she did a quick google of the place before sitting down at her computer again and flicking her screen back to a document she had titled ‘The Perfect Wife’. It was the document Laura had emailed her that Mira had now had separated and organised into categories on a spreadsheet.

Gosh, Mira had never met someone who had so many needs and wants regarding a partner. She had no idea what to expect from their meeting. Either he was going to be one of those type A personalities who wanted to control every little bit of the process, or as she’d previously suspected, he was just there to get his mum off his back. Either way, Mira was sure he was going to make her life as difficult as possible.

She cracked her knuckles and opened a new webpage, getting herself ready to do a thorough google search on her latest client.

Mira had only been sitting in the cafe booth for less than ten minutes when the bell chimed and she looked up to see Harry walking in. He was easily recognisable from the photo she had downloaded onto her computer last night, and stood to wave at him when she noticed him looking around the cafe.

He lifted a hand in response and made his way over towards her. “Hi,” he reached over and held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Harry. You must be Amira?”

“Just Mira is fine. Nice to meet you, Harry. Take a seat.”

“Have you ordered anything yet? Because I could use a big mug of coffee,” he told her, waving over a waitress. “I just got off a night shift. Can I please have a blueberry muffin and a cappuccino with an extra shot, no sugar. In a mug, please. Actually, can you make that a large takeaway cup?” He turned to look at Mira if she wanted anything.

“I’m good, thanks. I’ve already ordered, can you bring them out at the same time? And make mine a take away cup, as well?” she turned back to Harry once the waitress had walked away. “That’s a tough life,” she grimaced at the idea of not getting a comfortable night’s sleep. “One of the reasons I fought my parents tooth and nail not to do medicine,” she admitted.

Harry raised his brows. “So you went into the business of romance instead? They’re not exactly similar career paths,” his lips twitched a little and Mira suspected he wanted to laugh at her or her work choice. Either way, she found herself a little annoyed.

“I was never really interested in the human body,” she shrugged. “My parents just wanted me to get a respectable job,” she told him, honestly. “I’ve got a degree in business.”

“Right,” was all Harry said, as though he suddenly understood her just through that single sentence. Mira really disliked it when people assumed they knew a person based on trivial things like what they did for a living or what they studied in university.

“Right, what?” she asked him, her eyes narrowing a little in challenge.

“Nothing,” Harry held his hands out in surrender, his lips once again doing the twitching thing that continued to bother Mira. She just knew he was one of those people who also only did that half-smile thing, as though a full smile was too much work and people had to work for it.

“Right,” mira mimicked Harry’s previous phrasing right down to the same inflection he’d used on the word and watched as he smiled and dammit she was right. Only the right side of his lips turned up into a smile, a little dimple peeking out in his cheek as he did so.

The waitress approached their table just then with their drinks and the muffin Harry had ordered, saving either of them from saying anything else.

“Thanks, Sophie,” Harry told the girl, handing over a card to pay for everything. “This one’s on me,” he told Mira when he saw her ready to object. “I’m the one who’s hijacking your Saturday.”

“I didn’t have anything planned,” Mira shrugged. “Besides, the best thing about running your own business is you get to dictate how many hours you work and which days you take off.”

“Maybe I should go into match-making, it’s looking really good to my sleep deprived brain right now,” he joked, taking a slow sip of his coffee. “I’m not usually a coffee person, but after a whole night of running around Emergency,” he holds up his cup, “there’s really nothing like it.”

“I prefer my coffee to taste more like tea,” she joked, holding up her own cup to him. “So, was there a reason for the to-go cups?” she asked him.

“Yeah, after being cooped up inside all night, I was hoping we could take a walk in the park to get some fresh air? Unless this process needs us to be seated?”

“Nope,” Mira shook her head. “I’ve got a recorder app on my phone,” she held it up for him to look at. It had taken her a lot of trial and error to find one that cut out the excess noise and focus only on the voices closest to the device.

“You’re going to record me?” he raised his brows sceptically.

“Kind of,” she admitted. “Sometimes I miss things when I don’t take any notes, so I liked to record certain parts of the conversation so I can go back and take notes later on.”

“But, mum already said she gave you the list I made. How much more information do you need?”

“That document was really helpful, but I also need to get a feel for you as a person as well. Sometimes people leave out some things they think aren’t as important, or forget to write something down that they later remember after I’ve introduced them to someone and suddenly, they have this major deal breaker and the whole thing is off. So I’ve learnt to cover all my bases,” she tried to explain to him. Tried not to freak him out with the idea that she’d be recording him.

“You learnt all that from your business degree?” he asked, a little sarcasm in his tone. “No,” Mira glared at him, not appreciating his judgement. “I’ve also got a minor in psychology.”

“Fine,” Harry leant back in his seat. “You’re the professional. Walk?”

“Did you have a place in mind?”

“Yeah, there’s a nice place just down the road from the hospital.”

“Sounds good,” she stood up, picked up her tea and allowed him to lead the way out of the cafe after picking up his card from the waitress. “Do you come here often?” she asked him, wincing at how it sounded.

Harry let out a laugh. “I’m not going to comment on that, but yes. I do. It’s close to the hospital and they make good muffins. I have a bit of a sweet tooth,” he confessed in a whisper, as though it was a secret.

“See,” Mira started, pulling out her phone and making a quick note while juggling her tea. “That’s something you hadn’t included in your file,” she told him smugly, switching to her recording app and letting it run.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve already agreed to be recorded. So how does this all work? Do you ask me some questions like in an interview?”

“Nope, I find that too awkward,” Mira told him. “I prefer just talking and letting things come up casually, like the whole sweet tooth thing. I’m also assuming you like to go for walks in your spare time?” she asked as they dodged their way through the busy London street.

“Yeah, it gets a little hard to breathe in the hospital sometimes. The atmosphere isn’t exactly… well, it’s not always happy,” he shrugged, trying to appear casual.

Mira didn’t question him. Her dad used to be a trauma surgeon and she still remembered clearly those days he’d come home looking like he’d misplaced a piece of his soul. She let him have a moment, allowing him to continue speaking when he was ready.

“Anyway,” he shook his head, took a sip of his coffee as they finally made their way into the park, and turned back to Mira. “I really don’t know what I’m s’pose to say,” he admitted. “Please don’t say, ‘whatever I want’, I really have no idea where to start from.”

“Most people don’t,” Mira said. “I once had someone tell me how much water they drink per day, right down to the millilitre. I don’t even know how he managed to measure it so accurately. And another one told me his mother still tucked him in at night.”

“You’re joking,” he choked a little on the sip of coffee he’d just taken.

“I wish I was, I felt terrible recommending any girls to him after that comment.”

“But you did it anyway?” Harry asked curiously.

“Well, turns out there was someone out there who didn’t mind that little fact,” she shrugged. “I did make sure to warn them repeatedly about his… sleeping habits, but,” she shrugged. “To each their own.”

“Bloody hell,” Harry huffed out a quiet chuckle. “I wish someone would tuck me in every night,” he joked. “You think he sleeps better than the rest of us?”

“Probably,” Mira laughed with him. “He’d never get cold at night and his blankets would always be perfectly tucked around him.”

“It’s like the adult version of falling asleep on the couch and waking up warm in your bed the next morning.”

“Yes!” Mira agreed excitedly, “gosh I miss being a kid. We never had to worry about anything. No work, no taxes.” “No finding a permanent life partner,” Harry added.

“That’s the hardest part,” she agreed.

“You’re not seeing anyone?” he asked her, sounding a little surprised.

“No. Your mum’s friend, Auntie Sara, didn’t tell you when she brought me up?” Mira asked, just as surprised. She knew how much she liked to tell everyone about how Mira was still single while all her daughters, while younger than her, had all already been married off.

“She may have,” Harry shrugged. “I try not to listen to her too much if I’m being completely honest. She tried to set me up with one of her daughters a few years ago,” he grimaced at the memory. “It was probably the most uncomfortable experience of my life. She was almost a decade younger than me.”

“Yikes,” Mira agreed. “Can’t say I’m a fan of surprise blind dates.”

“Yeah, especially when the whole family is also there, and strategically sits the two of us beside one another at one end of the table while they all turn their backs and chat amongst themselves, leaving us alone, even while they are very obviously listening in on us. Yup,” Harry nods seriously, mirroring the pained expression on Mira’s face.

“Can’t say I envy you.”

“Your parents never tried to set you up?” Harry asked her.

“I mean, of course they did. They’re desperate for me to get married. But after a couple of failed attempts, I threatened to never speak to them again and they backed off.”

“How’d they take it?” he asked her, curiously. “My mum has never actively set me up with anyone in a super obvious way - other than with Sara’s daughter - but she has coincidentally shown me photos of her at events with her friends with the camera focused on one of their daughters in the background.”

“Not well initially, but they’ve come around,” she admitted, a little evasively. Thinking back to when she wasn't on the best of terms with her mum and dad wasn’t something Mira liked to remember.

“You know, I think Spring and Autumn are my favourite seasons,” Harry said randomly, looking around at the colourful trees. “Summer gets too hot and Winter is too cold. But Spring and Autumn aren’t too cold or too hot and the colours on the trees are so calming, the air so fresh. They’re great seasons to get away from the smell of the hospital,” he mused.

“It’s peaceful,” Mira finished in agreement.

“Exactly.”

Harry leant down to pick up a handful of different coloured leaves, crushing them in his fist and letting them flutter back to the floor.

“So,” he turned back to Mira, “where do we go from here?”

Mira switched the recording app off and put her phone away back into her pocket. “Well, I take everything we talked about and put it together with your document and then try to find you the perfect girl. Then we’ll run through the girl’s profile together and if you’re happy to meet with her, I’ll speak to the girl and see if she’d also like to meet you, and if you both agree, I set up a blind date and you guys take it from there.”

“It’s that simple?”

“It’s that simple,” Mira agreed, not willing to go into how un-simple it all really was. It took her hours to go through those profiles and set up meetings. But that was her job. “I’ll text you if there’s anything we missed or anything I need to clear up.”

“What if I have questions?” he asked.

“Then you can text me, too.”

“You’ll regret agreeing to that. I’m a serial texter,” he warned her. “I’ll text you about everything.”

“Work related only, Harry. I have a job that isn’t following regular hours,” she warned him.

They walked around the park in silence together for a couple more minutes before parting ways, and Mira found she didn’t mind the silence. He hadn’t turned out to be a type A personality like she’d thought, and she also still didn’t think Harry was serious about finding a girlfriend, let alone a wife, but she found that she didn’t mind too much. He was surprisingly easy to get along with and Mira was enjoying the free flowing conversation between them. It helped her figure out the kind of person he was, for her to set him up with the kind of person she thought he’d most get along with. Whether Harry was serious or not, whether the relationship lasted or not, wasn’t Mira’s job. She was being paid to find him a partner and that’s what she was going to do. The rest was up to him.

#pol #please let me know what you think!!#I’m a little rusty with my writing ngl

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my aunt made fresh bread for us this morning

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