#it's okay to not take every word out of a ST affiliated person's mouth extremely literally...

[hawkinshistoricalsociety]

.

[1dffchallenges]

Maybe I’ll Come Home

Written By: @harrysdodgyankles​

Summary: In which Mona Arshad, Chief Technical Officer of the Calm™ app, is horrible at not letting an accidental discovery drive her absolutely crazy. Good thing Harry Styles, her boyfriend of three years, knows all her tells. 

Author’s Note: I have no affiliation with Calm™, nor do I claim to know anything about being a CTO at a startup. Anything mentioned in this fic is purely for entertainment purposes. 

Warnings: language, inordinate amounts of goopy fluff. Enjoy!

December 16, 2022

Mona Arshad stands in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in her office with her arms crossed. She eyes a raindrop as it runs down the glass, slowly getting larger as it merges with other stagnant drops until it disappears into the puddle on the windowsill. Los Angeles is a dreary grey this morning. At least the drought is over.

She sighs, subconsciously slipping into her Ujjayi breathing. Her yoga brain is lingering after the sunrise class she took this morning. It’s the only reason she hasn’t completely blown her top at the sheer amount of idiocracy she’s experienced today--and it’s not even lunchtime.

If she closes her eyes, she’ll see her color-coded schedule behind her eyelids. Blocks of blue for meetings, yellow for phone calls, green for video calls. The only thing keeping her sane is the pink rectangle--lunch with her boyfriend. She hasn’t seen him in five weeks. Her stomach flutters at the thought of seeing him after so long.

Mona turns around on her heels and trudges back toward her desk. The light on her office phone is blinking yet again. She pushes out a lion’s breath with closed eyes and flared nostrils. “Few more hours,” she mutters to herself as she reaches out to press the call-waiting button. “Yeah?”

The crackly voice of her assistant, Devon, filters through the room. “Scott is on line two for you, Mona.”

She can’t contain the roll of her eyes, nor the sharp exhale that leaves her nose. “Did he say what it was for?”

“Nope. Probably something about the new developers. Want me to take a message?”

“No, that’s alright.” Mona runs her hands over her face and sighs. “Connect me to him. Thanks, Dev.”

“Sure thing, Mona.”

A few seconds pass. Mona settles herself into her desk chair as Scott’s voice sounds from the phone. “Mona! Glad I caught you before lunch. Did you see my email?”

Oh, she’d seen his email. The one from this morning--and the one last night, and the one from yesterday morning. “Sure did, Scott,” Mona replies, much less enthusiastically. “I told you I wasn’t looking to rotate my engineers until I figure out what’s going on with my guys. Did you know Anton was thinking about leaving?”

“Yeah, he spoke to me about it.” There’s a pause. “I just wanted to make sure you have options moving forward. I’ve vetted them extremely well--you’ll have the best of the best when it comes time to pick.”

“And I appreciate that, Scott, I really do.” Mona’s pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes clenched shut, trying to think up an excuse to get off this call. Scott is one of her most enthusiastic recruiters and he always does his job well--maybe a bit too well, sometimes. “I also need to speak with Marta about this. Let’s arrange a meeting with the three of us, okay?” She checks the time--it’s only been two minutes. “Listen, I have to run. Just ping me on Slack with the details, please.”

“Okay! Should we do--”

Mona hangs up before she can hear the end of Scott’s question. She does feel a bit guilty--he’s just doing his job, after all--but it’s one of those days where all she wants to do is lock herself in her office and disconnect all her devices so she can just be left alone. 

Exhaling loudly, Mona collapses back into her chair. It’s still not quite noon, so it’s too early to skip out of the office to head to lunch. But then her stomach growls--fuck it, she thinks, pushing herself out of her chair and grabbing her purse from the floor beside her desk. She’s her own boss. She can take an early lunch if she wants.

“Devon, leave my messages on my desk. I’m going to lunch,” Mona says as she marches out of her office, coat and umbrella clutched in hand. “Should be back in an hour or so.”

“You’ll be back in two hours and we both know it,” Devon smirks from behind her computer. Her blonde hair is pin straight, not a single strand out of place. You would think Mona would possess even the ounce of grace that her assistant has, but unfortunately that’s never been the case. “Lover boy meeting you there?”

“Gonna call him now,” Mona quips back, phone already pressed to her ear as she pushes the door to their office suite open with her shoulder. “See you in a bit!”

The hallway is a peaceful reprieve to the bustling office. As much as she loves working at a startup--and being a ranking member at said startup--sometimes the restless energy pervading the office makes her feel especially twitchy. She takes her time getting to the elevator as the dial tones sounds in her ear. A few people from the neighboring office walk past and she waves, cradling her phone between her shoulder and ear as she pushes the down button.

The call goes to his voicemail after a few rings. The elevator arrives and she steps inside, already thumbing a text to make sure he’s even awake. Once she gets to the lobby of the building, she tries again. She’s eyeing the rain warily when he finally picks up.

“Hi, baby. Sorry I missed your call.”

“Hi,” she answers in a quick breath, already fighting a smile at the sound of his sleep-tinged voice. “I thought you might be asleep. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No, I just got out of the shower.” There’s some rustling on the other side. Mona walks over to the couches on the far side of the lobby and sits, crossing one leg over the other. “You still want to get lunch?”

“If you’re not too tired. I left the office early so I’m heading there now.”

There’s a soft hum across the line. Mona can picture him in their bedroom, probably gazing out the window into the backyard. “It’s raining,” he murmurs, confirming her assumption. “Let me come pick you up.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, ‘course. I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Make it ten,” Mona says softly. She ducks her head and says, even quieter, “I miss you.”

She can hear the amusement in his voice when he replies, “Miss you too, Moons. I’ll see you in a bit. Love you.”

He hangs up. Mona breathes a sigh and drops her phone in her purse after locking it. She stares outside at the rain--it’s coming down harder now. Good call to get picked up, she thinks. An absent smile pulls at her lips at the thought of seeing her boyfriend after over a month. He’s been all over the world in that time while she’s been at a standstill in Los Angeles. She’s ready for their life together to pick back up again.

Sometimes when he’s gone for long periods of time and Mona starts getting used to waking up in a bed alone, she thinks about the life they’ve built together. Three years is a long time to get to know someone-- you learn their habits, their quirks. You come to share their aspirations, their fears. All of these things get especially louder in her brain when he’s gone, as if her subconscious is reminding her of all the ways they’re committed to each other. 

She must have a strong subconscious because it always seems to squash any seeds of doubt about the stability of their relationship. Even with the schedule he has, being long-distance multiple times a year hasn’t driven a wedge between them. If anything, it’s brought them even closer.

A black Audi pulls up to the curb then, its hazard lights flashing as it parks. Mona shrugs on her coat and opens her umbrella as she steps outside into the torrential downpour. She runs over to the car and slips in as quickly as she can, though she still manages to get wet trying to get her umbrella closed.

“Stupid thing,” she mutters as it finally closes, leaving her with soggy hair and slightly damp clothes. She drops it at her feet with a scowl, wiping some of the water off her forehead. 

“Thanks for getting the leather wet.”

Harry calmly observes her struggle to get herself settled, elbow perched on the armrest of his door with his body angled toward her. Mona takes in the sight of him--his hair is still damp from his shower, cologne sharp and sweet and every ounce of the familiar scent she’s come to associate with home. 

“Oh, shut up,” Mona says, though the immediate grin on her face mutes the harshness of her words. “Nice to see you.”

Harry’s lips quirk. “You as well.”

There’s a pause. Then, the movements as natural as breathing, they lean forward. Mona stretches over the console as Harry reaches to cradle her jaw. Their lips meet in the middle, both still smiling. Harry breathes life into Mona again and, suddenly, her morning is forgotten.

It’s gentle. Mona’s bottom lip is caught between both of Harry’s in a delicate press. Their lips part with a soft pop after a few seconds. Harry sponges another kiss to the corner of her mouth before pulling away.

“Hi, my love.”

“Hi.” 

Mona can’t help the way her heart thrums when she sees his dimple pop. FaceTime doesn’t do any part of him justice. Sometimes she gets a bit overwhelmed by how much he glows, both in physical form and personality. 

They’re both still leaning toward each other, still grinning like idiots, but Mona is happy. Happy to have her boy home, happy to be with him again. Rain and dreadful morning aside, today could still be savaged. 

“Flight was okay?” she asks, reaching over to link their fingers. 

“Yeah, was actually a bit early. Managed to get a quick nap in, too.” 

“Your time is still pretty screwed up though, isn’t it?”

Harry shrugs helplessly. “It is what it is. But we’re leaving soon anyways, so I won’t really bother trying to correct it.”

Mona hums in agreement. Harry finally pulls back fully and switches out the hand that’s linked with hers so he can shift gears and pull away from the curb. “Can’t wait to get away from here,” she says under her breath, though she still hears the cluck of Harry’s tongue against his teeth.

“Bad morning?”

“The worst. The update we pushed didn’t go as well as we’d hoped, so now I have to get my engineers to get through the new prototypes as soon as possible so we can push another update.” Mona scowls and shakes her head. “But there’s a mutiny--half of them just want to go back to the old features. What’s the point of an update if you don’t change anything?”

“I actually quite liked the update,” Harry replies, nodding toward his phone in the cupholder. “Messed around with it a bit on the plane. Didn’t seem very buggy.”

“You know, I already let you put your dick inside me on a more-than-regular basis. You don’t have to be a butt-kissing friendly user, too.”

Harry lets an affronted scoff mixed with a laugh. “Moons, maybe I just like the app that much. Why do you think I invested in it?”

“Fair enough.” Mona leans over the console again to smack a kiss to his cheek. “I love you. Glad you’re home.”

Harry spares a quick glance at her, eyes filled with affection. “Glad to be home.”

-*-

Mona met Harry at an Eagles concert in 2018. The Calm app had just closed its first round of funding and they’d splurged on a box at the Forum to celebrate. She’d never really listened to the Eagles but she’d figured it would look bad if every ranking member except the CTO was there. 

She’d shown up begrudgingly, choosing to linger by the buffet while the rest of the group watched the opener perform. She was too busy filling up her plate with cheese and grapes to notice Harry walk in with some of the other investors. They were introduced by the head of their main venture capital firm. Harry shook her hand and said a few kind words, politely ignoring the way she was struggling with her appetizer and drink. He left her with an amused smirk and a nod, and that was that.

Fast forward to February of 2019. A perplexing Instagram follow was the only form of contact Mona had received from Harry since the concert. She didn’t dwell on it, nor their interaction. The greatest awareness she had of him was his generous investment alongside Ashton Kutcher’s firm. It was his gift that allowed them to secure $27 million in Series A funding and be valued at $250 million. She’d be out of a job without him, quite frankly.

So, it was understandable that she had been a bit confused to see a notification from him. A question, asking if she was still in Japan. She figured he’d seen her photos from her trip with her brother earlier that month. By the sound of it, they’d been there at the same time. 

She replied, saying no. The messaging began. It continued, progressing into questions about each other’s lives. It persisted when he arrived in Los Angeles once more. It was odd to get messages from him at a normal time of day rather than in the middle of the night. Pretty soon, he asked her to get a drink with him. She said yes, because--well, why not?

They got together in the easiest and simplest of ways, Mona thinks. A conversation over drinks. Liking that conversation enough to have another one over dinner. Quick lunch meet-ups turned into lunch dates. Harry asked her to be his girlfriend after a month of quiet dating. She said yes--and that was that.

-*-

December 18, 2022

“Babe! Have you seen my glasses?”

“Kitchen, maybe?” Mona calls out. 

There’s a thud, then a triumphant, “Found them!”

Mona rolls her eyes fondly. She’s sitting criss-cross on the floor of their bedroom folding Harry’s laundry. An open suitcase half-filled with her things is to her right, mounds of freshly-washed clothes surrounding her. 

They’re heading to the UK for the holidays in the morning and, as usual, they’ve both left their packing until the very last minute. One would think living with someone like Harry, who travels as often as he does, Mona would have learned how to pack quickly and efficiently. But every single time they go away together, without fail, she’s always left scrambling to get everything together.

Still, she can’t wait to leave dreary Los Angeles and trade the tumultuous, unpredictable weather they’ve been having for the last few weeks for the perpetual overcast skies of England. They’ll be stopping in London for a few days before heading north to Holmes Chapel. Mona can’t wait to see Harry’s mum and sister again after so long--the last time she’d seen Anne was on Harry’s last tour stop in London the previous year.

The telltale creak of the floorboards in the hallway alerts Mona of Harry’s presence. Sure enough, his head pops through the doorway a few seconds later. He’s got one of her butterfly clips holding his fringe back. “How’s the packing going?” he asks, fingers tapping on the doorframe.

“Horribly,” Mona deadpans. “Can you do it?”

“Mmm… don’t think so.” He shrugs. “I’m busy.”

Mona glares at him before rolling her eyes and falling backwards with a groan. She’s cushioned by a pile of winter coats. “I don’t want to do this anymore,” she whines, voice muffled by her hands on her face. “Can we take a break?”

“You’ve barely been at it for an hour.”

Mona only grunts in response. She’d had the longest day at work making sure everything was in order before they left for their extended vacation. Her VP of Engineering, Marta, would have it all under control, but she wasn’t so sure about her developers. Too many people left to their own devices spells danger in her eyes. At least there’s only a few more days until everyone’s out for the holidays.

“Darling.” A pair of hands grasps her wrists and pulls them away from her face. Mona blinks a few times, still disgruntled when Harry’s grinning face comes into view. His knees are on either side of her hips as he looms over her. “You’ve been so stressed lately,” he notes softly, simply stating an observation. “You weren’t even this stressed when you’d just become CTO.”

She blows out a sigh because she can’t find the words to reply. Yes, she’s been stressed--there’s been more pressure than ever to make sure the new updates are rolling out smoother than before. And with the company outsourcing and making hires all over the country, she’s got a new arsenal of remote developers she can barely keep track of. She won’t admit she’s in over her head--because she’s not--but it’s wearing on her, nonetheless.

“Baby,” Harry says, voice soothing. Mona looks up at him through her eyelashes, frowning. He tilts his head at her and exhales through his nose. He nods to himself, as if coming to a decision. “Okay, c’mon.”

He starts to pull on her wrists as he gets up off the floor. “Where are you taking me?” Mona whines, head lolling back as he lifts her off the ground. “Let me lay here and wallow for a bit, please.”

“Nope, we’re getting up now.” His voice comes out strained as he heaves her up. Mona collapses head first into his chest; his arms are quick to wrap around her shoulders, squeezing tightly. 

He starts walking them backward toward the bed. Mona lets herself be maneuvered by him, fully content to be dragged away from the dastardly pile of clothes. The backs of her knees hit the mattress but before she can steady herself, Harry lets his body’s momentum take them all the way down to the mattress, Mona letting out an ‘oof’ at the sudden weight on her chest.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbles from where his face is tucked into her neck.

Mona shifts so his shoulder isn’t digging into her sternum anymore. “Let me breathe, you big lump,” she grunts halfheartedly. “I didn’t ask to be squished.”

“You love being squished.” Harry’s arms tighten for a split second. “Can I tell you about my day?”

A smile tugs at her lips. Harry knows exactly when to fill in, when to provide a distraction for her ever-racing mind. Usually his distractions come in a different form--mainly one involving his mouth and the space between her legs--but she probably wouldn’t be able to get in the mood even if she wanted to thanks to how bone-tired she is. 

“Sure,” she says, burying her nose into his soft curls. “What did our mega rockstar do today?”

Harry snorts a laugh and lifts up off Mona’s chest. His nose crinkles, eyes shining with mirth. He dips down and pecks a series of quick kisses against Mona’s lips. “I love you, Moons,” he whispers, voice light. “D’you know that?”

“Think I do.” Mona lifts up to kiss him again. He takes the opportunity to deepen it, his tongue swiping against the seam of her lips. She sighs, letting her head fall back as Harry dips his tongue in her mouth briefly. When he pulls away, she says, “Go on, then. How were your tour meetings?”

Harry launches into an enthusiastic retelling of his day, talking vividly about the ideas he came up with for the new tour’s set design. Mona listens aptly, humming at the appropriate times while gently carding her fingers through his hair. He rests on her chest like a weighted blanket. The feeling of his skin on hers provides security, peacefulness. She latches onto the way her chest vibrates beneath his as he speaks in his low, raspy drawl.

“Can’t wait for you to see all of it,” he’s saying as he shifts so only his leg is draped over her thighs. He rests his head in his hand and his elbow on the bed as he gazes at Mona through lidded eyes. “After we get back from Mum’s, of course.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to get to your mom’s house. Is she gonna make the Scotch eggs again?

Harry nods. “She even got the special sausage for you.”

Mona nearly moans at the thought. “Your mother is a saint.”

He snickers at the look of faux-ecstasy on her face. Swaying a bit on his balanced arm, his eyes flicker over her face. They make quiet eye-contact for a few seconds. Mona cracks a small, sleepy grin at Harry’s inquisitive stare. She reaches forward and cradles his cheek, running her thumb down the slope of his cheek.

“Feeling better?” he murmurs, sliding his toe along her calf. Mona nods silently. Her thumb moves lower and digs into the tiny crater of a dimple in his cheek. “Good,” he whispers. “D’you want me to get started on dinner?”

“That’d be lovely,” she says, not having the energy to insist on cooking. “Can you use the last of the chicken in the fridge so it doesn’t go bad?”

“Sure.” He leans down to kiss her again, just a light peck that leaves her lips tingling. “Wraps sound good?”

“Yes, please,” she says, puckering her lips for one more kiss. Harry obliges with an easy smile. “Thank you,” she adds quietly once he’s pulled away with barely an inch between their mouths.

She doesn’t have to say what for, but Harry always knows. His mouth quirks to the side and he raises his eyebrows in full awareness.

It takes Mona a few seconds to find the will to push herself off the bed. Her suitcase stares back at her like an open-mouthed monster. With Harry puttering around in the kitchen, she figures she should get the rest of the packing out of the way so she can go join him and forget about the 11-hour flight waiting for them in the morning.

Getting off the cloud-like mattress is a Herculean task. She stands over the mounds of clothes and scratches her scalp, formulating a plan. The clean laundry needs to be put away, but it takes forever to organize her clothes and Harry tends to be particular about his shirts. The socks and underwear can be done quickly, though.

She grabs enough pairs of Harry’s briefs and tosses them into the suitcase to be folded later. The rest of them can go in his drawer. She folds them and stacks them neatly before gathering them in her arms and walking over to the dresser. Harry’s briefs and socks have their own drawer at the bottom, per her request to keep their socks separate since he tends to nick her patterned ones and stretch them out.

The drawer is a bit messy, so she starts by taking some of the rumpled underwear and refolding them. It’s when she lifts a pair of red Calvin Kleins that she sees it.

Mona stills. 

She doesn’t know why she’s taken aback. They’ve talked about it in incredible detail, more so than she ever thought she would. They’re both pragmatic, logical people--they live together, they have joint assets, they co-signed on their last three new cars. She considers his family her own, and he feels the same about hers. Her dad takes him to football games whenever they’re visiting. They’ve built a goddamn life together, for crying out loud.

And yet. The little black box has rendered her completely shocked.

She starts reaching for it--but then she yanks her hand back like she’s been burnt. What is she doing? She can’t ruin her own proposal by looking at the ring.

The ring.

Harry’s planning on proposing.

Her brain whites out. 

She shoves the boxers into the drawer in the flurry without even bothering to fold them. The sound of her slamming it shut echoes through the room. Her chest is heaving--eyes wide, heart racing. She wants desperately to forget what she’s just seen. 

A part of her feels guilty--Harry takes pride in the fact that he’s one of the only people who can successfully surprise Mona. He knows how to keep a secret well. She’s never been able to sniff out any of their anniversary or birthday plans. It isn’t like him to leave the ring in such an obvious place. Almost as if… he wanted her to find it.

Mona frowns. Whatever Harry’s intentions may be, she doesn’t have time to dwell on them. She doesn’t believe he’s that much of an idiot to throw a curveball into her already tumultuous life as of late. Besides--who’s to say how long the box has been in there? It’s not often that she has to put Harry’s laundry away, so she hasn’t opened that drawer in a few months at least. He could very well not have plans to propose any time soon.

That would be preferable.

Not that she doesn’t want to marry Harry. Of course she wants to marry him! 

Her frown deepens. 

There’s a clatter in the kitchen, effectively startling her out of the haze of internal turmoil she’s currently experiencing. “Babe?” she calls worriedly. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine! Just dropped a tray!” A pause. “Actually, could you come here for a second?”

Knowing him, something’s definitely been spilled. Mona sighs to herself. Still, cleaning the kitchen is a better alternative to contemplating the impending future of her relationship. So, with a huff, she pushes herself off the ground, wipes her clammy hands on her thighs, and trudges out of the bedroom, hopelessly attempting to throw any thoughts of the little black box out of her brain.

-*-

Dating someone in the music industry was never something Mona expected to happen.

She’s a tech nerd, through and through. Graduating with honors from Berkeley with a degree in computer science, she fell headfirst into the startup space right when Calm was getting on its legs. It was fairly easy for her to ascend in the ranks from a novice to a proficient senior developer. 

So, it made sense for her to stay on at Calm after they were offered funding considering her joint algorithm she built with a few others lay the foundation for the app. She was head down in her work until finally breaking through and being offered the CTO position five years after starting there. Conveniently enough, that’s when she met Harry.

The tech industry is all she knew for her professional, young adult life. Similarly, the music industry is all Harry knew. It was a strategic game of push and pull to get each other acquainted with their respective lives. It helped that Harry was technically allowed to come to the investor dinners--part of Mona felt like he wouldn’t fit in with the bigheaded VC’s whose heads were so large she felt suffocated at the table. But he charmed his way in, matching their strides and taking pride in and boosting Mona’s accomplishments as CTO, letting his role as an investor become secondary.

Harry’s job was exciting, Mona came to learn. The process of creating music, the procedural task of laying down the foundation of a song and producing it in the studio, the choice to write lyrics for music or music for lyrics--it felt very similar to the operative way she wrote code. Miles away from the expectation that they’d have nothing in common, Mona suddenly found herself deeply moved by the way Harry conducted his life. 

The attention, however, was something else.

It took a while to get used to. And it was difficult--extremely so after the first time they were seen holding hands. An ill-timed moment, an unfortunate coincidence of being near a pap while walking to dinner in North London together. After that, the floodgates opened. But Mona likes to disappear from time to time, and this gave her an excuse to do it more often. 

Three years later and people have finally seemed to accept the fact that Harry and Mona are in it for the long run. Moving in together, splitting costs evenly, having a joint bank account for their combined assets--the equity Mona received from Calm allowed her to consider herself Harry’s equal in most respects. When she started earning that respect from Harry’s fans, she considered them to be in the clear.

But as Mona lays awake the night before their flight to England, she wonders how they’ll react if she steps out with a diamond ring on her finger. Some part of her knows it’s going to cause chaos. The thought is enough to keep sleep away until her alarm sounds at 6:15 the next morning.

She hardly reacts. Harry grunts next to her. He snuffles a bit into her hair, his arm tightening around her waist for a brief moment before he moves off her. “Fuckin’ hell, it’s early,” he says with a groan. He reaches over her frame and taps her phone to silence the alarm. “Want coffee?” he asks before pecking her cheek lightly.

“Sure,” Mona says. She hopes her voice doesn’t give away the fact that she’s barely slept. 

Harry peers at her through bleary, sleep-riddled eyes--this is her favorite Harry; the Harry no one else gets to see. His eyes crinkle with the boyish grin that appears on his face. “We’re goin’ on holiday,” he cheers in a croaky whisper, drawing out the last word. “Are you excited?”

“Thrilled to be sitting in a metal tube for 12 hours, yeah.”

He pouts. “Spoilsport.” Sponging a close-mouthed kiss to her lips, he throws the duvet back and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll wash up. Could you bring the suitcases when you come down, please?” 

It’s more of a request than a question. Harry’s out of the bed and out the door before Mona can even object. She holds back a yawn as she begrudgingly rolls herself out of bed. There’s a crick in her neck that makes her wince. Should be a great flight, she thinks.

After washing up and throwing on her sweats, Mona does a final check in the bedroom. Their suitcases are closed but still unzipped. She makes sure they have all their belongings before closing them up properly and dragging them down the stairs.

Harry’s just putting milk in their coffees when she’s got the suitcases by the door. “For you, my love,” he says sweetly, placing the mug in her hand and punctuating it with a smacked kiss to her temple. 

“Thank you, H.” Mona raises on her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Passports are with you, right?”

“Yeah, I’m ready to go when you are--oh, could you just grab a pair of socks for me while I load everything in the boot?”

Mid-sip, Mona nearly chokes. 

Harry looks at her with wide eyes when she starts coughing. “I’m fine,” she reassures hoarsely after a few seconds. He doesn’t look convinced—she shakes her head and hurries away before he can question anything. 

Upon entering the bedroom, her eyes immediate fall to the offending drawer. “Socks, of course,” she mumbles to herself. Its handles stare back at her like two beady little eyes. 

Rationally, she should just get the socks and go downstairs so they can get on the road to the airport. But, because Mona is the way she is, she dawdles. Reaches into the drawer to grab the socks and notices the way Harry’s briefs have been spread flat rather than how she’d thrown them in there yesterday. She gulps, wary of the obvious--Harry’d been in the drawer at some point last night.

Mona pushes the underwear aside. Her eyes flit over the empty space in the corner. Somehow, she knew this would happen.

The ring is gone.

-*-

December 23, 2022

Mona’s on edge.

Harry hasn’t noticed yet--surprisingly so, considering every interaction they’ve had has left her skin prickling with the thought of him dropping down to one knee at any moment. He’s startled her too many times to count. She can’t be in a room alone without her thoughts wandering toward the proposal that is absolutely going to happen on this trip. 

After stopping in London for a few days, they set off for Harry’s mum’s house in Holmes Chapel after a lazy morning spent in bed. The drive is long enough to put Mona to sleep. Harry wakes her when they’re about twenty minutes out. It’s nearing three and her stomach is rumbling.

“Can we stop for some coffee or something soon?”

“Mum’s got a whole spread on at home. We’ll be there in a bit.”

Mona pouts a bit but drops it nonetheless, turning to face the window. The countryside flies past her eyes--she allows them to go a bit unfocused, everything turning into a green blur. She’s been looking forward to this trip for ages. She’s desperately needed a step away from her hectic work life. And since Harry had been away for so long for work himself, it was the perfect time for them to relax and recharge together, away from the bustle of their professions. 

Yet, here she is with a tense line down her spine that hasn’t eased since they boarded their flight from Los Angeles. The uncertainty of when encompasses her thoughts. Harry is none the wiser, completely oblivious to her torment. 

By the time they reach Homes Chapel, Mona is sure that Harry knows something’s wrong purely based on how clammy her palm is against his hand. She’s eager to get out of the car and get some space to herself, but that proves impossible the minute the front door opens.

“Oh, my boy! And my lovely girl!” Anne greets them with a megawatt grin, wasting no time in gathering both of them in her arms. She squeezes them for a few seconds--Mona finally finds a bit of ease in the familiar embrace. “Happy Christmas, you two. So glad you’re here!”

Harry pulls away and presses kisses to Anne’s cheeks. “Happy Christmas, Mum. Is Gem here yet?”

“She’s in the sitting room with your cousins--Mona, love.” Anne turns to her and squeezes her arm, already pulling her into the house. “I need you to try the curry--I followed your mum’s recipe but I’m still certain there’s something missing.”

Harry disappears with a peck to Mona’s lips and a squeeze of her waist. The rest of the evening progresses at a whirlwind pace--it’s always like this whenever they come visit. Harry’s always eager to catch up with his family and while Mona’s seamlessly blended into his little group of cousins, she and Anne have developed a special bond in the kitchen. 

So she spends the rest of the evening with Anne, helping her finish off the goat curry (with a little help from her own mom) and making fresh naans for the entire brood of relatives in the house. Harry acts a nuisance in the kitchen as always and keeps nicking bites of the food before it’s on the table. Mona whacks him with a dish towel more times than she can count.

There’s something about the full table with the air imbued with holiday spirit that clears Mona’s mind for a few hours. She’d never celebrated Christmas growing up--it wasn’t until she started dating Harry that she got to experience the holiday in its truest form. This is their second time spending the holidays with Harry’s family and she knows it’ll be something she can continue to look forward to for years to come.

By the time the dinner plates have been cleared away and the adults are nursing overflowing glasses of mulled wine, Mona’s nearly nodding off on the couch. Harry’s not faring much better. The two are curled up on the loveseat under one of Anne’s quilts, Harry’s head resting on Mona’s shoulder as they all watch a film. He’s got an arm laid across her thigh, his fingers scratching her bare legs every once in a while.

Mona purses her lips against his forehead. He shifts closer and looks up at her. “Alright?” he asks.

“Yeah, just a bit sleepy.” Mona smiles down at him through lidded eyes. She leans forward and connects their lips in a lethargic, drowsy kiss. “Might head up. You stay, though.”

Harry doesn’t object, knowing Mona wants him to catch up with his mother in private. He gives her a sleepy smile and she pecks his lips once more before getting up.

Mona squeezes Anne’s shoulder before heading up the stairs to Harry’s old room. She makes quick work of getting ready to sleep, halfheartedly splashing her face with some cold water and braiding her hair so Harry won’t complain of waking up with strands of it in his mouth. Turning the light off, she clambers underneath the mess of blankets on the mattress, pulls the thickest one over her head, and promptly falls asleep.

-*-

December 25, 2022

“You’ve been a bit quiet.”

Mona slows her pace a bit. She bites the inside of her cheek, staying silent.

“Moons?” 

Harry stops walking, their joined hands outstretched in the space between them. The path they’re walking on is completely deserted on Christmas morning. It’s a little loop around Harry’s house they like to take strolls on whenever they need some time for themselves.

“Hey,” he says quietly, tugging her toward him. Mona goes easily, wary of the way her face has gone tight. “Is everything okay?”

She spares a look at his face--there’s a faint divot in the space between his brows. He regards her carefully, like he doesn’t know how she’ll react. “I’m fine, H,” she reassures him. “I swear, it’s nothing.”

He sighs--she knows he doesn’t believe her. Never once has she felt the need to conceal her feelings about something. It’s the reason why their relationship works as well as it does. But right now she feels like the secret has a vice-like grip on her vocal cords. She wants desperately to tell him she saw the ring and she’s ruined the surprise, that the stress of not knowing when he’ll propose is eating her alive--but how can she tell him?

“Baby, I know… I know I’ve been a bit withdrawn,” Mona admits, stepping closer to him so she can lay her head on his chest. Harry’s free hand immediately comes up to cup the back of her neck. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, okay? Honestly, it’s mostly work stuff.”

She pulls back to give him what she hopes is a comforting smile. None of this is Harry’s fault--she has to make sure he knows that. 

“It worries me when you carry that stuff home,” Harry says. 

“It’s shitty, isn’t it?” Mona gives him a dry smile. “You’d think they’d let me relax before the holidays, but I guess not.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” Harry still doesn’t look convinced with the way he squints at her. She swallows, forcing herself to plaster a grin on her face. “Nothing you want to talk about?”

“I’m sure, babe.” She rolls onto her tiptoes to plant a kiss square on his lips. “Let’s get back to the house. I want those Scotch eggs.”

He searches her eyes for a few moments. Mona can see the fight disappear from his eyes in a split second. He nods, cracking an easy smile before looping his arm around her shoulders. They start back down the path to the house and Mona tries to keep her thudding heart under control. 

-*-

December 27, 2022

It happens in the morning.

Harry’s in the bathroom and Mona’s coming up the stairs after finishing breakfast with Anne and Gemma. The door to his bedroom is mostly closed, just a bare strip of sunlight peeking through the crack. She pushes the door open and walks in with her head down and thumbs flying over her phone’s screen. 

The sound of the sink shutting off makes her look up. “Darling, can you grab me a pair of pants?” Harry’s voice calls from behind the bathroom door.

“Yeah, one sec!” Mona tosses her phone onto the bed and goes to the chair with Harry’s suitcase on it in the corner of the room. She unzips it and lifts the flap--and freezes.

The box is sitting perfectly on a pile of folded shirts. Mona instantly knows it’s not an accident. 

This time, she picks it up. Surprisingly, it doesn’t burn her fingers. The weight of it in her hands suddenly makes the situation fathomable. The ringing in her ears drowns out the sound of Harry coming out of the bathroom. 

The door shuts. Mona startles out of her daze, whirling around to face Harry. 

“I’m sorry, I--”

Her words halt. Harry’s fully dressed--she immediately realizes he meant for her to find it.

“You know,” he starts, taking a few steps toward her, “I had an inkling this is why you’ve been weird since we left LA.” He stops in front of her and plucks the box out of her fingers, as if it were something mundane. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

There’s no use in denying it. “I didn’t mean to,” Mona says softly, voice trembling. “I didn’t look, I promise. It just… it caught me off guard.”

“I figured.” Harry smiles to himself and chuckles softly, like he’s remembering something. “I told Jeff to hide it in the closet, not the dresser. I knew you’d see it eventually.”

Mona frowns. “Jeff?”

“I had him drop it off from the jeweler’s. Had to get it sized.” It’s then that he gently flips it open, revealing the most stunning diamond on a simple white gold band. Mona can’t hold back the gasp that escapes her lips. “Should’ve known him to hide it in the most obvious place,” Harry says through a laugh.

Mona doesn’t know what to say. She can’t think. Her eyes go cloudy. “Harry…”

“I know things are hard for you right now.” His voice is more determined, filled with an intensity that has Mona’s legs feeling weak. Their eyes meet--he’s staring at her intently, willing her to listen to everything he has to say. She can’t look away. “I haven’t been around and I’ve been kicking myself for it. And I know this isn’t always the answer to everything, but…”

“Wait! Wait.” Mona holds her hands out in front of him to stop his movements. Harry stills--there’s a split second where he genuinely looks worried. “Were you going to do this now regardless of if I’d seen the ring or not?”

Harry pauses for a moment. “Well… yeah.” He shrugs. “I’d planned to have the house to ourselves, maybe cook you dinner, love on you a bit beforehand. But you were driving yourself crazy, Moons. I felt like I needed to put you out of your misery.”

Mona purses her lips at him. “I’m not some anal-retentive control freak, you know.”

“I know,” Harry says simply, dimple popping. “Besides, I figured you wouldn’t want a showy spectacle anyways. And…” The corners of his lips quirk upward in a secretive smile. “...I just really want to marry you, Mona.”

He drops to one knee. Mona can’t breathe. 

“Fuck.” She shifts, blinking rapidly to clear the sudden mist in her eyes. “Fuck, okay. You’re doing this.”

Harry nods with something fierce. “I’m doing this.”

“Are you sure?”

“Am I sure?” He chuckles with a shake of his head. “I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

He’s right. Mona swallows, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes for a few short seconds. “Right,” she says thickly, not even caring about how blotchy her face must look as she’s on the verge of tears. “Okay, I’m ready.”

They both take a shared breath, Harry adjusting himself on his knee and presenting the ring to her. “So,” he says shakily, and she can finally see how much it’s affecting him. They’re looking at each other through foggy eyes, but Mona loves this boy with everything she has and she can’t even believe why she was ever worried.

“I love you,” he breathes, eyes glimmering with fresh tears. “With everything I have, I swear. Will you marry me?”

Mona sniffs, a tear finally falling. She nods, slowly at first but then quickly. Her fingers are pressed against her lips to keep herself from losing it completely. “Yes,” she whispers. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Harry takes the ring out of the box with delicate fingers. It casts a rainbow over the wall from the way the sunlight hits it. Mona’s transfixed. He raises up to his full height and slides it on her finger--they’re both crying but she can’t look away. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. His forehead knocks against hers--she doesn’t waste another second and leans up to connect their lips. She tries to convey everything through the kiss, clutching his cheeks to hold him against her. 

She pulls away to ask, “Why are you thanking me?”

“Because I just--I don’t know.” He laughs stuffily, wiping a stray tear from his cheek. He takes Mona’s left hand and presses a kiss to her palm, then to the band of the ring. “I love you, Moons. We’re going to be just fine.”

Her mind is finally settled. She believes him.

-*-

They tell the world with a single photo of their entangled hands with the ring visible. Nothing more, nothing less.