"Everyone's saying there's a dead body in the sea." Jules says nonchalantly before pirouetting in the sand. Her fuchsia drink spills over the side of her glass and spatters the sand and her toes. "Shit! Pass me a towel will you?"

I ignore her request and turn towards the ocean. A crowd has formed and I feel like I've been hit by a wave of déjà vu. Why is this so familiar?

"Aren't you going to go and see if anyone needs help?" I ask my Aunt.

She shrugs. "Not much I can do if they're already dead, Sarah."

Jules saunters past me to our belongings and hauls her towel out of sand. She's dabbing at her feet as if the alcohol is burning her skin, completely disinterested in the commotion in the water. How is she being so calm about this? She's just said herself that someone might have died. Shouldn't we do something?

"I completely forgot to tell you!" She beams up at me; discarding the now stained towel. "I downloaded some music from that band you like. One Direction isn't it?"

What? How can she possibly be asking me about music right now? And why on earth does she think I'm into One Direction?

"Jules, I've never expressed an interest in One Direction. That's Addie remember?"

Jules is frowning as if I don't know what I'm talking about. "I thought you liked that Harry Styles guy?"

Huh?

"Jules, I can't talk about this right now. I need to find out what's going on." I turn away from her and sprint in the direction of the cluster of people. They've formed an almost perfect circle around the potential body in question.

I've been here before. I know I have.

I elbow them aside; my eyes instantly landing on the green and yellow logo of the Green bay Packers, emblazoned across the chest of the floating body. They're pale with their eyes wide and set in a haunted expression. I know that face so well.

"Oh my god." I breathe.

It's me.

I bolt upright; grabbing fistfuls of my duvet cover. Lilac walls invade my vision and the polaroids of Addie and I stare from where they are blu-tacked. This is my bedroom. I am not there anymore. But the nightmares still come. They still visit me daily... and yet I can't despise them.

Sometimes they are the only memory that Harry ever really existed.

I fall back and hit the pillow. The clock on my bedside table says 1pm. I've slept in again, although it's not surprising given that I didn't get off to sleep until about seven hours ago. Every night is like this; physically I'm exhausted but mentally I'm buzzing. My brain can't ever seem to switch off. I can't stop thinking about him. I can't stop wondering where he is or what he's doing or if he's ok.

I haven't seen or spoken to Harry since we said goodbye in the corridor of the hospital. I'd wanted to kiss him and I didn't do it. Now it feels like my biggest regret. I have no means of contacting him and I don't even know where he is in the world.

Was he as paralysed with fear on the flight home as I was?

Jules and I flew home two days after I arrived in Kuala Lumpur. There was no point my parents coming out to meet us; by the time they arrived it would have been time to turn around and go back again. We'd had the most heartbreaking Skype call - the majority of which was hysterical tears from all involved. I'd never wanted to be in my parents arms more than I had in that moment. But it hadn't helped that I was still devastated about Harry.

He'd promised...

Crumpled against her body in that hospital room - I'd told Jules everything. From the very beginning. From the moment the turbulence hit, to our arrival at the hospital. The bodies, the water, the coconuts, the fish. The kisses. The nights holding one another. The nightmares. The argument. The water pool and the luggage strap. The crisps. We laughed and we cried. She said she would thank him one day...that she would be forever grateful for what he did.

But now, two weeks later and in the comfort of my own home and my own bed, surrounded by the people I love...it feels like he never really existed. Does Harry ever think about it? Does he ever think about me?

There's a light tapping on my bedroom door; it's hesitant as if uncertain whether disturbing me is a good idea. Just from that alone, I already know who it is.

"Honey?" My mother. For the last two weeks she's tiptoed around me, spoken in hushed tones and not pressured me to do anything. It's like she's afraid I'm going to break and shatter into millions of pieces; too small and fragile to be put back together again. If it wasn't for Jules currently staying here, she'd probably be watching me 24/7. "Are you awake? Addie is here to see you."

Ah, Addie.

She's visited me every single day since I got home. I told her everything too. If it's just a distant memory now then what harm will it do? Has Harry told anyone? Does he want to? I feel completely consumed by the fact that I'm not with him anymore. I'm not sure I know how to go about daily life without him.

I don't know what's happened to me.

"Yes." I reply. My voice is thick with sleep and croaky. "She can come in."

There's a pause of silence; no reply from my mother. The door creaks open.

Addie's grinning at me in the doorway; arms outstretched and carrying a wooden tray. There's a glass of orange juice and a plate of buttered toast balanced on it. "Your Mum asked me to bring this up. She said you didn't eat yesterday."

I didn't eat yesterday. I have no appetite. Two weeks ago I would have cried at the sight of orange juice and toast but now I just can't face it. My stomach is constantly churning.

"Thanks." I say and she places it on my bedside table before climbing up onto my bed. She slides under my duvet and cuddles up next to me. It's just like old times and I'm relieved that Addie doesn't feel the need to act differently around me now.

I need some normality.

"How are you feeling today?" She asks quietly and her fingers drift towards my hair; splayed out wildly across my pillow. If this is anything like old times then she's probably braiding it.

I sigh. "I don't really know."

I think that people think they know how I'm feeling. I think they suspect I'm suffering from some sort of post-traumatic stress disorder and can't face the world. They probably just feel that I'm having some difficulty adjusting and need some time and space. And they're right.

But at the same time, there's so much more going on in my head. And I know it's because Harry never came and found me. It's because he broke his promise.

"I have something quite exciting to tell you." Addie says; her voice still small. One thing I love about her is that she doesn't pry, not really. If I don't know how I'm feeling then she won't make me try and figure it out. I roll my head to face her.

"Oh really?" I manage a smirk. "And what would that be?"

Over her shoulder, I can see my wooden chair resting against the wall. On it, folded into a neat square, is Harry's hoodie. I roll my head back so that I'm centred and looking upwards again.

"There's a live Late Late Show UK special on tonight. You know the one with James Corden?" She says and I nod. We've watched various clips of Carpool Karaoke together. "Harry's going to be on it."

My breath is suddenly caught in my throat and I think my heart has stopped.

Harry.

Harry's going to be on TV tonight.

"Sarah?" Addie gives my shoulders a shake. "Did you hear what I said? Are you ok - should I get your Mum?"

I shake my head frantically and roll to look at her again; my eyes wide. "How do you know? How do you know he's going to be on it?"

She looks alarmed. "It was on the news this morning. It's his first interview since...well, you know. I thought we could watch it together - he might mention you."

I can't speak. I can't comment.

I just nod.