deceived ↠ harry styles ✓

[29]

[HARRY STYLES]
London, England

★ ★ ★

Wherever Harry went, he was told things would always get better with time. Wherever Harry went, he was told that all it takes is time to come to terms with what happens in life. Wherever Harry went, all he heard was time time time time—always give it time and he will know.

At the age of thirty-eight, Harry had to admit that time was bullshit. No matter how much time he gave things—his mother leaving, his ex-girlfriend leaving, his girlfriend lying to him—nothing had changed. Nothing got better. Certainly not him or his broken heart.

A week hadn't even passed before Harry found the weight of his phone keeping his hand occupied, its bright screen urging him to open his messages and text Astrid. Only one thought lingered on his mind since the day of his mother's wedding, and it was the woman who stole his heart. Stole it, broke it, yet still owned it. All the pieces, the crumbles of it that pricked him from the inside out, and reminded him that love hurt.

When Harry's mother walked out, it hurt.

When Harry's ex-girlfriend left him, it hurt.

When Harry found out the truth about Astrid, the plan she came up with but explained was never carried out, it hurt.

At the same time, he couldn't pretend as though they were all the same. Astrid's actions didn't cut as deep as losing a mother, or having a romantic partner leave for someone else. Harry wondered if it was because he didn't love Astrid enough but the thought battered his shattered heart some more, scolded himself for allowing his brain to come up with something as crazy as that.

No. Harry was hurt because he found out in one night that the man who broke Astrid was the same man who made Kaitlin, his sister, the happiest woman on earth, only to break her the same way by the end of it. Harry was hurt because he felt like he couldn't protect his sister, and he was hurt because the reality of it was, his sister had hurt Astrid. Unknowingly, yes, but caused her pain nevertheless.

The battle of who was to blame roared in Harry's head for days on end. Work gave him a small peace of mind but as soon as the surgery was done, his hands scrubbed, his operating outfit shed, he was back in that same, dark box.

All of it pointed back to one person. Derek. Harry hated himself for welcoming the man into his life with warmth. Now that he knew the truth, he wished he could take it all back but it didn't work like that. People learn through experience, and goddamn it, Harry thought he had plenty now.

Enough, anyway, to know that he didn't want to waste any more of his life. Not on friends. Not on love or lovers. Harry wanted something solid, something that he didn't have to worry about. For some time, he assumed he'd found it in and with Astrid. He believed he could have it and eat it, too, but of course, it all tipped when he felt himself start to settle.