Wedlock - Harry Styles A.U

forty five

tw: cancer, mentions of suicide/suicidal thoughts

it's a longgggg one, take care of yourselves! sending so much love to you all <3

******

Edora

As a child my parents allowed me to learn dangers by throwing me feet first into situations and letting me figure it out by myself. If my father told me to "not touch the oven" and I didn't listen, he'd let me touch the hot glass and burn myself. The consequence of my action meant I didn't go near the oven again when it was on, knowing I'd get hurt. If my mother told me to not run down the hill too fast because I'd fall and I ignored her, she'd let me trip and graze my knees because she knew I would listen next time. If I refused to tidy up after myself when playing, my parents would let me sit on the stairs for hours at a time to teach me the consequence of disobeying them.

I'm not saying that this is a good way to discipline a child, willingly hurting your child/allowing your child to get hurt but in my experience, it worked. It became a natural instinct to avoid situations I knew would hurt me. It doesn't work all the time though because sometimes curiosity gets the better of us. We risk getting hurt in exchange for an experience or 'for a good time' or for love.

We risk it all for love.

I've had my fair share of heartbreak and on countless times I've said 'Never again. I'm never allowing myself to fall again' because I've experienced loving and losing someone and decided I never wanted to feel that again; and yet, my human instinct failed me this time. Every indicator told me to not approach Harry, to not get close to Harry, to not fall for Harry but I got curious - as human's do - and as a result, I'm crying on the floor.

I knew that I'd end up hurt when I entered Harry's office and began to search for answers. I didn't know what I'd find but I knew that it would hurt me and that should've stopped me from actively searching for pain but it didn't. I ignored the indicators and I really, really wish I didn't.

After Harry had left, I sat for two hours with the twins helping them with their crafts, finishing off where Harry had left off. At first, I was so angry that he'd walk out and not want to even entertain the idea of having an adult conversation but I knew I couldn't be so angry around the kids so anger soon fizzled out into hurt. I was so fucking hurt that he'd just throw me and everything we've built away as if it was nothing to him. And then came the empathetic part of me that sympathised with him, justified his actions and validated his feelings because a lot of what he thought he knew has crashed down today but then I got angry again. I don't deserve to be treated like that.

I didn't intend on snooping. I've always been the patient person who waits for people to come to me about their issues. I've always given people the light of day, giving them time and space to approach me when they're ready. Never in my life have I felt the need to rummage through someone's personal belongings to find something I shouldn't but after putting the twins down for their nap, I felt like I really needed to. I couldn't shake the bad feeling and the more I read the letter, the more I knew something was very, very wrong.

Spread out in front of me on the floor are various letters about the upcoming trial - the same one Harry claimed to know nothing about. The more I found, the worse it got; dates, terms of release on a million dollar bail, court papers about custody of the twins, letters from previous lawyers. However, the main thing that had me dropping to the floor was the reasoning for this trial - First degree murder of Bexley Attwood.

I've been on the floor, in a state of shock, reading that sentence over and over again. It's been five minutes and I can't bring myself to look elsewhere. I know I should probably look at the dates, read the terms of his bail, and find out how he was able to keep custody of the twins but I don't. I can't. I'm struck with so much fear that I can't move and I can't think clearly. All I can do is cry and wonder how I fell in love with a possible murderer; how I've lived with him for the past seven months, how I'm carrying his child, how I didn't figure it out.