I hurriedly grab the bag from the passenger seat of my car after parking in my familiar spot. My alarm didn't go off this morning so I'm running late for work, Emma also messaged me last night and told me to pack her a few things for when I visit her after work, so I was late doing that too.

My legs race as quickly as they can, carrying me through the crowd of fans as I run into the intimidatingly tall building, it's size towering over me as I enter. The fans cry out with condolences and apologies to mine and Emma's situation, that's all people talk about nowadays.

Emma is a well-known and beloved British actress having won multiple awards and achievements for her acting, she's known all over the world now and everyone is saddened by our news. My fans apologised to her when they found out, all of them sending cards and gifts to us in hopes to lift our spirits.

Most of the cards did actually, we only read a few before the nurse came in and informed me that visiting time was over and I had to leave. It's painful every time I have to leave Emma, because I never know if it's going to be the last; she isn't thinking straight lately and I never know if it'll be the last time I see her, she's just so effected by all of this.

What happened to Emma is tragic and one of the worst possible things that could happen to someone who bares a child. I know you're all probably wondering, 'Harry you're going through this as well, it was your baby too', and yes, you'd be right; but for the short two months that Emma was pregnant for, she had a connection with the unborn child that I could never understand.

I can't even begin to imagine the pain and heartbreak she must be going through, she reminds me every single day of how sorry she is and how much she hates herself for what she's done. Her frail mind has been corrupted by the constant torture she puts herself through and no matter what I say, or what I do, she struggles to listen to the truth; that this, none of this, is her fault.

Although, I suppose that's what PPD is, a form of depression for women after the birth or loss of a child, and in no way will I ever be able to comprehend what she is going through; but I will stay by her side, as her husband, her partner, and her best friend, I will be there right beside her until she gets better again. That's all I want, for her to smile like she used to, knowing that she is happy again.

Coming back to reality, my hands slam against the door leading to where the rest of the lads and crew are waiting patiently for my late arrival. I'm very grateful to have them all around me, they've been really understanding about everything and give me time to catch my breath, which I really appreciate.

However, the lads haven't apologised to Emma yet, for how they treated her during this whole ordeal. I know they were just protecting me and looking out for me, but their actions were just as cruel, and I know that I'm the worst of all, but I'll be spending the rest of my life making it up to Emma; whereas the lads don't get that novelty. In all fairness though, they haven't really had the time. With Emma being in the clinic and us working every single day, it's hard to get an opportunity for them to talk to her.

Both Emma and I understand this. Although, she needs reassurance that they don't hate her and they were just looking out for me, everything that's been said to her over this last month she's taken to heart and it's been destroying her slowly from the inside outwards.

"Sorry I'm late." I excuse myself as I take my phone and keys out of my pocket, placing Emma's bag onto the floor beside the rest of the lads belongings. "My alarm didn't go off this morning." I mumble tiredly, wiping the crusting sleep from the corner of my eye.

"It's alright mate." Zayn sends me a small and fairly sorrowful smile, it not entirely reaching his eyes.

I remain quiet throughout the entire rehearsal. Singing my parts as best as I can and trying to focus on work instead of worrying about my personal life. However, it's hard to separate the two. Everyone is so eager to know about the situation, and it's a subject that I can't escape from no matter how hard I try to forget about it; the guilt eats away at me.

I enjoy rehearsals normally. It's the only time where I can focus on a passion of mine: singing. I can allow my emotions to strive through my voice and the songs melody to take me on a distant journey, away from my troubles. It's therapeutic to me, spending the day with amazing people and doing something I love before having to go back and visit Emma at the clinic. The studio is like a second home to me, I feel at peace here in contrast to when I'm at the clinic. Don't get me wrong I love seeing Emma with all of my heart, but nothing good happens in those places and I just want her home and in my arms.

The averagely boring white clock ticks half past two and I huff reluctantly, my head rolling in it's place until my eyes stare up at the grey painted ceiling. "How are you doing Harry? You know, with everything?" Liam asks carefully, making sure he isn't perusing too much.

"Alright I guess. Just stressed." My nimble fingers run through my lifeless hair - which is becoming almost straw-like now in fact - before falling down my face.

"Don't worry mate, she'll be fine." He answers knowing exactly what I'm stressing about.

I scoff abruptly at his words, not meaning to sound rude.

"What was that scoff for?" Niall's eyebrows furrow to convey his confusion, similarly to the rest of the lads.

"I just don't think she will be fine." I voice the thoughts I've been containing for so long, I just don't know whether she's going to be the same as she used to be.

"How so?" Louis asks me, the lads all listening intently to each other's questions as they continue to quiz my hectic mind.

"She's been in there for almost a week now and nothing has changed. She doesn't like to eat, her skin is still pale, she isn't gaining weight." I tell them, using my fingers to emphasise as I count out the list of things that haven't changed.

They all simultaneously look down to the floor, their eyes landing on their shoes with great interest; I know they feel guilty, I can sense the pain, and you can see it in their eyes. "We're so sorry Harry." Liam bursts, saying what they're all thinking, although it's not me they should be apologising to. "You were just so angry and you're our best mate, we'd do anything for you. But we feel so guilty, we didn't even thin-"

"It's fine guys." I stop him abruptly, cutting off his spew of nerves. "I know you feel bad, but you don't need to. You were just looking out for me. If anyone should feel bad it's me, I'm the one that didn't listen, I'm the one that kicked her out." I sigh remembering our fight, replaying the torturous night over and over again in my head. "I don't deserve her, not after everything I've done."

"Harry you both deserve each other, and you need each other right now okay?" Niall's pure blue eyes pierce into me making sure that I understand his words. "You can't be thinking like this Harry, you know you did wrong and you're probably gonna' spend the rest of your life making it up to her, but right now she needs you more than anything. And you can't let her down." He tells me that which I already know, but it's still reassuring to hear it. Emma needs me, now more than ever and I'm going to be there for here no matter what.

"I know." I nod to them all. My broad shoulders lifting to their normal position instead of the slumped mess they've been for the last month. "But I can't help but feel that she isn't getting better. Nothing is changing, she's still the same as before."

Every time I see Emma I always pray that her medication has started to work, or her skin has started to plump. But it never does. Sometimes I feel the need to convince myself that shes okay, and has I minor cold that will go in a few days; I lie to myself to feel better even though I know that she's still the same as she was when I first saw her stood wearily at the bottom of Niall and Hayley's stairs, her hazel eyes staring directly at me in a strain. That ghostly image still haunts me to this day, it's like I see that image of her every time I close my eyes; like something permanent, a scar that won't fade away.

"You're just paranoid Harry, she's in the best place possible for her now. The clinic will offer her the right medication and therapy sessions that she won't be able to get at home. Just give her time." Louis reasons logically. I know he's right, but I can't help but feel that nothing has changed in her condition for the last six days that she's been in there.

"Right! Come on lads! Back to work." Our choreographer Paul calls as he waltzes back into the room ending the conversation.

"Come on then mate, take your mind off it." Zayn pats my back, his arms winding their way around my shoulders as he pulls me back towards the centre of the room for rehearsals. However, little did he know that my mind never stops thinking about Emma, or how she is, I never stop worrying. I'll never stop loving her. And worst of all, the guilt will never stop.

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- Pianogirl56