'A Devious Act' - Harry Styles X Reader

Chapter Ten (Epilogue)

Time went by, at first, the thought and ordeal of the situation didn't pass through her system. She was up at night, rolling in the white sheets of her bed. It was too much to stomach. But, time heals wounds, and she had faith in it.

(Y/N) realised a month into winning court that that quote is correct. Of course, internally at the break of dawn, she had guilt for what she did to Harry, but her thoughts were crashed and disappeared like any morning with a six-year-old, crawling in bed with her; giving her her morning cuddles. She liked these moments, the love shared between a mother and daughter. Ivy enjoyed these moments too.

She didn't know how to explain at first of what had occurred to her children. Alfie was still too young to understand what the meaning of this all means, but it will affect him in the long run; growing up with no father. There were nights, at first, where the screams echoed through her newly bought townhouse, pained her. A child, her daughter calling for her daddy, but she couldn't give her him. The feeling of being a mother and loving your child more than you love yourself, the cries that are carried from them, the pain and burden that can be heard in their voice, but you can't help them. You'd do anything for them, but nothing can fix this small thing. That was one of the hurtful parts of this new change.

Five weeks later, after the event, she wasn't up to it anymore. The love that was given to her by Niall. Yes, she enjoyed her time with him, but her heart still ached. It still aches and whimpered for the feeling of Harry. She couldn't replace him right away, heartbreak takes time to heal. (Y/N) realised that Niall and she could possibly happen in the future. But, she didn't want to hurt him with him being a rebound. He deserved better. It wasn't just that, but she didn't crave love at the moment. More as, she was scared of it. Therefore she ended it, and he understood the reasons, which she was thankful for. But, it was too soon, too soon for her, and the kids.

She never intended to block Harry out of her life; realising these three months into her new beginning. If he was to show up tomorrow on her doorstep, she wouldn't tell him to fuck off and leave her alone. She would think that she would invite him in, make a cup of tea and talk about life, the universe and everything around it. But, overthinking it and imagining it, made her stomach turn. (Y/N) was still not ready.

Months went by and (Y/N) continued her life, she began working again, but only part-time. She went away on vacation sometimes or visited her family. Through those times, she didn't get a call from Niall or Harry, which surprised her. The restraining order that was placed, weakened and was gone now. But, a little side of her wanted to open the door once again and see his face.

The first week was the worst. Scratch that, every fucking day was the worse. He was scraped clean, everything that held him together was taken. Every meaning of his life was gone. He was a walking corpse, in his eyes. Harry didn't do anything anymore. He didn't go out with his friends, he didn't write songs or play music. He just moped every day. There was nothing holding him grounded. His mother came out to see him every chance she got, worried sick with the fact that he was taking care of himself no longer. Anne walked in to see that everything was the same, the beer bottles that laid the living room. The pizza boxes or Chinese that were placed in where ever he ate that day. He wasn't healthy.

He resulted in alcohol to seize the pain, but sometimes it didn't work. He was lost in a way. He didn't know where his existence was placed, anymore. His life was now, beer, a bed, and terrible television. Some days he would stare at the ceiling and hope it was all a dream. Harry knew he shouldn't dwell on it, it was his fault anyway, but he shouldn't have fought. He regretted fighting.

Six months later was the first time that he left his house. That morning he woke up looking refreshed, there was no present eyebags or bloodshot eyes. No blemished skin or messy hair. He looked normal. It was the first time that he wore something proper instead of a shirt and sweats. It was the first time that he groomed himself and looked like a gentleman again. He wasn't ready to date, or anything. He simply had to get up, and that confidence could never occur again. So he went out.