I pack up all my bags and carry them to my car, rehearsals was peaceful after my conversation with the lads. I think I actually smiled once or twice.

I love how the lads can cheer me up in any situation, we've known each other for so long now that it's not hard to decipher how to act when someone's feeling a bit down. We're brothers and we're there for each other; I can always trust them with anything, and they always look after me, as I do with them.

Each one of them knows how serious this situation is, this could mean the life of my wife. Emma is so affected by all of this that she's well and truly given up all source of hope. She needs me to keep her going, and I need the lads to keep me going.

Everyone around us is really supportive and they all understand if I'm a tad bit late, or if I need to leave early so I can catch visiting hours on time. I'm nothing without Emma and everyone knows that, she is the light in my darkness and at the moment, I'm the glimmer of hope in hers.

The drive to the clinic is always the longest part, that eagerness to see her but the overriding guilt knowing that I caused all of this; if only I had listened to her, or heard what she was trying to say, this could all be different.

But it's already happened, it's in the past and I have to face the consequences of my mistakes. Not listening to Emma was a drastic mistake and I'll do whatever it takes to fix it.

I park away from the main entrance as usual and walk down into Emma's room. "Morning Mr Styles." The receptionist calls.

"Morning." I smile with a wave, walking directly to the open-doored room that currently resides my wife. Her name scrawled on a whiteboard that sticks to the front of the door.

Small sniffles come from inside and I pace myself, keeping quiet so I don't disrupt whatever's going on in there. My dark coloured boots pad gently across the hospital like floor as I turn the corner into Emma's room, my fist grasping tightly onto the bag I packed containing her extra clothes.

I notice a small figure sat in the large chair beside Emma's bed. My beautiful wife lay with her eyes closed in a deep and peaceful sleep I assume, she hasn't really slept at all this last month. The figure that has moved the chair, sits with their back to me, hunched over as their small sniffles become more prominent to my ears.

I walk up behind and rest my large hand on their left shoulder, her face turning up and glancing at me with pained tears dripping down her flushed cheeks. Hayley's right hand grips mine that's rests on her, the both of us using the gesture to console one another. This time is just as hard for her as it is for me, Emma is her best friend and they're grown up together sharing their lives, therefore I completely sympathise with her.

I lean down and place a kiss to Hayley's right cheek. I can't thank her enough for what she's done for me, nothing I ever do will be good enough after this. Our heads rest against each other as we both stare at my sleeping wife, her condition stable but not improving whatsoever.

"Talk to me Hayles." I tell her, wanting to know how she's feeling. Sitting here watching Emma is like torturing yourself because you never truly know how she's doing; she hides it all away so you don't have to worry, but if anything it just makes you worry more.

"I just feel helpless Harry," Hayley cries as I back away and perch myself onto the edge of Emma's stone like excuse for a bed.

"Why?"

"There's nothing I can do! I sit here almost everyday and there's nothing I can do to make it better. I feel helpless." Her sniffles become eager to escape as she brushes a soft tissue against her eyes.

"So do I." My voice confess'.

"I can't help but feel she hasn't changed. I just want to help her."

"You have helped her Hayley. You saved her. You took her in when she had no-one, you believed in her when she had no-one, you were there for her when she had no-one. Without you, she'd still be wandering in the rain, or worse." I soften towards the end, not really wanting to think of the inevitable.

"I just miss her. I want the old Emma back ya'know, I want to see her smile again." My eyes involuntarily water at the thought, it's hard to imagine Emma happy at this moment in time. We've been so consumed by darkness that it's hard to remember what it was like to bask in the indulgent light.

"She will. I know she will." Although, I don't fully believe my own words. Will she ever recover from this or will it haunt her for the rest of her life?

I stand over the other side of the bed and glance down at my sleeping wife. "How have the therapy sessions been going?" Hayles asks me, knowing that Emma talks to me about everything.

"She says they've been going well."

"That's it?" Her eyebrows furrow, not quite believing me.

"Yeah, I don't believe her though." My thoughts run over to the conversations I've had so far with Emma about her arranged therapy sessions. She doesn't really talk much, and when she does it's normally for a short period of time.

The room goes silent.

"You know she kept the pregnancy test?" I inform Hayley with a proud smirk.

"Really?" She smiles in disbelief, her brown eyes glimmering at my words.

"Yeah, she was going to give it to me for my birthday." I chuckle breathlessly. "It still has the writing on the little screen. '8 weeks.'" I recall, my mouth automatically smiling at the remembrance. It was like when I held that test, I held my future; I know that sounds cheesy but I truly mean it, like at that moment I knew that's what I wanted. I suppose I've always known, but that was the moment that made everything better - everything just became a bit more real.

Hayley's smile falls. "How are you handling all this?" Concern laces her voice as she questions me carefully.

"I've thought about the fight a lot." My voice starts, "and every time I think about it, or look at her, I get overridden with this thick blanket of guilt." I attempt to explain to her the aching I feel in my heart, that I'm unable to escape. "Because I know that I caused all of this Hayles. And I have to live with that for the rest of my life."

"Harry you can't think like that. You didn't cause the miscarriage, that wasn't your fau-"

"But this was." I point at Emma, and look around at the clinically white room that she's currently imprisoned in. "If I had just listened Hayley. If I hadn't have been so stubborn, then she would be crying in my arms and not on her own in a stupid hospital bed!"

My anger seethes, but not at Hayley, at myself, for letting all of this happen.

"Harry." A small voice squeaks from in front of me, Emma's hazel eyes opening softly and her frail body wriggling conveying how uncomfortable she is.

"Yeah babe?" I ask, her slim arm raising and her weak fist grasps my shirt lightly.

I'm gently pulled closer to her, my forehead connecting to hers in our sweet gesture. Emma's hand shifts to my cheek, "don't blame yourself."

And with those words, she places a gentle kiss to my lips before falling back to sleep.

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- Pianogirl56