Whatever Chains (Sequel to Where Your Heart is - A Harry Styles fanfiction)

Part Twenty-Two: He had his eyes on you.

I wasn't exactly sure why, but I knew right away that the red flags that were suddenly waving in my brain weren't something I could, or should, easily ignore.

It was just a glance, innocent and genuinely by chance, as my eyes kept wandering idly around her room and everything in it, since I was too preoccupied last night to pay any attention.

The walls, and the countless pictures decorating them; images of her as a cheerful baby laughing as his dad threw her in the air, or as a determined looking little girl wearing her ballerina outfit and her red hair in a bun whilst making her first dance moves, or as a teenager, awkward but still beautiful in her perfect unawareness of it.

The freshly cut flowers that rest in a vase on her desk - which I bet her mother took from her shop when she knew she was coming -, that stole a smile from me because they are the same she brought to my mother's wedding years ago when we first met.

Books, some stuffed animals, lots of decorative pillows scattered on the floor, I guess by us last night though I barely remember.

Why did my eyes wandered off to those envelopes stacked on her nightstand? And why did that name sounded so familiar to me in the most inexplicably, yet utterly bitter way?

The answer came to me almost as quickly as the question and the red flags arose. And I understood, right there and then, that I was right not to overlook my instincts.

She is standing in front of me, half naked and clearly baffled. She is looking at the envelope in my hand, narrowing her eyes at it, trying to read what's written on it.

"Andrew? Really?" I save her the effort, shivering at the sole mention of his name, and the memory of our first and last encounter in the hotel lobby. "Why is he even writing to you?"

The hand that is not holding the envelope is closed in a tight fist, and I can feel the pain it sustained when I punched him in the face that day.

"Andrew?" She now looks confused and rather surprised that his name just came up, like she hasn't heard it in ages, which manages to calm me down a little. "I have no idea. My mum just dropped off those letters literally five minutes ago, Harry. I didn't even see it."

For the first time since I saw the envelope, I notice that it actually hasn't been opened. And I start to feel a little stupid and ashamed for my hasty reaction.

She walks closer to me, throwing the towel she was holding in her hand to the floor, and smiling rather nervously at me.

"Why would he reach out to you out of the blue, Lea?" I ask, this time considerably calmer than before, and she slowly wraps my fisted hand, pulling me down to sit on her bed.

We are both seated next to each other, and with her free hand she beckons me to give her the letter. And I do.

She looks at it, turning it around several times, like she's studying it.

"I honestly have no idea." She says. "I haven't seen him since I left school, Harry, I swear."

I believe her, of course. It's not that I am jealous of him or mistrusted of what she's saying. But there's something about this letter that annoys me to the point of being angry, and I can't quite put my finger on it.

"Are you going to open it?" I ask her, trying not to sound too interested, although the need to know is eating away at me. "Don't you want to see what he says?"