Photographic Evidence (74)

                                    

                                          
"Babe!" I call to Harry in the bathroom.
                          
He comes out almost instantly, hair dripping wet from his shower.
                          
"Are you alright?" He asks immediately, his eyes scanning the room.
                          
"Look." I say softly, pointing at the mirror I'm standing in front of.
                          
He walks over to me slowly and stands behind me, peering into the mirror. I turn slightly so I'm standing at an angle and his eyes flicker down the length of my body, gasping slightly when he looks at my stomach.
                          
"You're-"
                          
My heart pounds in my chest and I feel almost lightheaded, a huge smile practically a permanent fixture on my face these days.
                          
It's the beginning of September. I'm officially eight weeks pregnant.
                          
I have a tiny baby bump.
                          
"I'm starting to show." I say in a tiny voice, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
                          
It's not big at all, I look like I could just be bloated or like I've just eaten a huge meal, but I haven't eaten yet today. It's definitely a baby bump.
                          
"Oh my god." He breathes, moving closer to me and wrapping his arms around my waist.
                          
The warmth of his chest presses against my back as he rests his hands on my slightly bigger than usual stomach, the weight of his hands sending butterflies through me.
                          
"Angel."
                          
"There's a baby in there." I say softly, both of us gazing at each other with wide eyes.
                          
We stay there for another ten minutes or so, and end up being late for rehearsal, both of us distracted as we get ready for the day.
                          
We're going to my first scan after rehearsal, and I have to consciously stop myself from jittering with nerves.
                          
"Sorry we're late." I say as we walk into the studio.
                          
I started panicking about what to wear, despite barely showing at all, which added an extra ten minutes onto our delay. I could have worn something form fitting and still not looked odd. I ended up going for one of Harry's t-shirts, tucked into my flared jeans. I couldn't get more baggy if I tried.
                          
Once I'd actually got dressed I felt completely embarrassed at my freak out. Harry just smiled and reassured me that it wasn't a problem, but I genuinely had to stop myself from crying in the car on the way to the studio, imagining having a similar problem on tour and causing problems.
                          
That's what Bekah can help with, I reminded myself.
                          
"No problem, we're just running some stuff anyway, you guys are good." Charlotte replies.
                          
The band start playing again, and I quickly recognise it as the end of She.
                          
"Hey." Harry says softly, leaning in to be heard over the music. "I just checked, eight weeks is when your emotions can start to get a bit wacky. Baby brain they call it."
                          
I glance down at his phone in his hand, obviously open on a 'what to expect when you're expecting' type page. 
                          
"It's all good. You don't have to worry about anything, perfectly normal." He says, slinging his arm around my shoulders.
                          
I can't believe he actually checked to make sure I was acting normally. He's so precious.
                          
My eyes start watering for some reason, and I blink furiously, turning into him to give him a proper hug.
                          
"Thank you bubba." I say softly, stretching up slightly to give him a quick kiss.
                          
The studio door opens behind us, and we turn and see Jeff walking in. He spots us straight away and gives me a small nod and a smile, which I return.