Cliché [COMPLETE]

Ch. 49 - Bad Boy

I can't help the smile that slowly forms on my face, mirroring Harry's at the sight of him after all these years.

He grew his hair out just like he always wanted to, his brown curls reaching his broad shoulders that look wider than before when we were in our twenties.

His jawline was sharper if that was even possible, the boyish look on his face now gone replaced with the face of a man I never got to know as I let my eyes gaze upon the slight stubble he was growing on his chin.

Two things that didn't change after all this time though were his bright green eyes that still had that same mischevious glint in them along with his charming dimpled smile.

"You guys have been staring at eachother for a minute. Ball. Please." The boy bit out making me shake my head, trying to break away from Harry's gaze as he did the same before we both mumble small "sorry's" and gave the ball back to the child.

I look back at Harry, surprised at how deep his voice had gotten and he meets my gaze with a smile.

"Finally." The small boy groans before rolling his eyes and walking away.

"It's nice to see you again too Natalie." Harry finally speaks up, clearing his throat awkwardly as he rubs his forearm, his large hand trailing down to his wrist absent mindly making my gaze fall to the matching tattoo of Olivia's name on his wrist.

I place my fingers on my own tattoo as well before swallowing, sending him a shakey smile.

After having our first born die I unfortunately wasn't the same, I became hollow and depressed for the longest time.

I didn't make any more jokes, I rarely ever smiled or laughed like I usually did.

Harry tried his best to keep me happy, and I was because Harry was my happiness.

But everytime I thought I was progressing, the nightmares would come back, the panic attacks just everything was too much and I only got worst.

Harry was willing to try again, he was willing to stay with me, by my side no matter what but even then I could see how I was affecting him.

He was so strong, only twenty three and still trying to keep it together for the both of us after the loss of his first born while still taking care of me in my traumatized state afterwards.

I could see that I was slowly breaking him though.

I was too scared to try again, to give him more disappointment, more sadness.

It was that one time I woke up in the middle of the night from another nightmare and usually Harry would be at my side, holding me in his arms gently rocking me back to sleep in his warm embracing, humming softly against my hair.

But I found him at the end of the bed, sitting down on the mattress, his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands crying silently by himself.

He was trying to be strong for the both of us but it still affected him as well.

He was love, my beautiful boy with a heart of gold and I knew I was slowly draining him.

I knew that he deserved someone who wasn't mentally ill, someone who wasn't unstable and who could give him the kids and family he's always wanted.

So I left him.

If I was going to sink further deep into my depression I refused to take him down with me.

I wrote him a letter, had to lie to him that I was happy alone, left my wedding ring on our bed, and had a new goal in my life.