Recovery / / h.s

Chapter Fifty-Two.

Lillian died four days later in her sleep after the cancer cells had completely destroyed what was left of her lungs. I'd like to say that I saw it coming, but I had been hopeful up until the last day. Hopeful that some damn miracle would happen and she'd be fine, hopeful that she could push through, but I was hopeful for nothing.

On the last day, it was like I knew. Like, it all finally set in. She slept the whole day, way too weak to do much except for open her eyes. Her parents came by for a bit that day and cried, I really wished they wouldn't have cried in front of her but there really wasn't much I could do.

Her funeral was held three days later. We- and by we I mean her father, her step mother, her sister, and myself - stood in the front of the church, greeting people. They greeted people, at least, and I kind of stayed to the side while everyone told me how tragic and how sad it was that Lily went so soon. As if they'd actually fucking care about it in the next week. While they thanked everyone for coming, I flicked at the flower arrangements that her parents had purchased for the occasion. If they'd actually known their daughter, they would have known she fucking hated flowers.

That's what pissed me off about the whole thing, really, was that they could come here and not be absolutely fucking shattered the way I was. They weren't the ones who had cried so much that when they started crying again, it came out in heaves and dry tears. They didn't stay awake all fucking night staring at her fucking side of the bed, desperate to be feeling the warmth of someone that wasn't even there anymore. I could still hear her laughter, bouncing off the walls of our flat and it made me absolutely sick to my stomach when I vividly saw her every where.

I saw her on the couch, with her feet on the table in the annoying way that she did with a pen in her hand and the cap between her teeth as she wrote whatever it was she always wrote. I could see Lillian's furrowed brows as she added a little extra something to our dinner. I could hear her snores beside me as I lay in bed. And I could hear her yell at me every time I'd slide my hand a little bit too far up her thigh.

I was empty inside and I was sure I looked like hell. I'd only showered and pulled on a suit when Ashton had showed up at my flat and told me that I'd hate it later on if I missed her funeral. I could barely drag myself out of bed.

"How are you?" Amelia asked quietly when she was sure that no one was paying attention to either of us. She looked nice, with her now more blonde than brown hair that was curled to absolute perfection and her black dress that just barely graced her knees; however, the purple rings under her eyes didn't go unnoticed and neither did her shaking fingers.

I shrugged sloppily and swore to myself that if one more person asked me that question I would flip shit. I could barely stand to be here and now everyone was asking what they could do and if I was okay. My wife just died, for fucks sake, and no there was nothing they could do about it and I absolutely was not okay.

She sighed before grabbing me by the wrist and dragging me off to the direction of the restrooms. Amelia checked first to make sure there wasn't anyone in there before pulling me in behind her and locking the door.

The intensity in her blue eyes as she wrapped her arms around herself made me start crying all over again. But, of course, I couldn't cry and it came out as ragged breaths and lip quivers. I didn't even flinch when she wrapped her arms around my torso and moved her arms along the span of my back.

"I know, Harry," she was crying now too, I could feel the sobs rack through her petite body. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror behind her and all I could see was a shell. It didn't feel like me. "I miss her, too."

"Amelia I can't do this anymore," my voice was barely a whisper and she tightened her arms around my waist but didn't say anything. It felt better, really, to be crying with someone who loved Lily almost as much as I did.

We probably stayed in that restroom for a half hour. After awhile, my sobs turned into ragged breathing and Amelia's tears turned into almost inaudible sniffles.

"We should probably go back out there," she pulled away from me and wiped the smudged black pencils from her cheeks. "The service is probably started by now."

Amelia and I sat in the back of the church with Liam and the rest of my friends. Zayn offered me a sympathetic smile as I plopped down beside him and slouched down in the booth, and Amelia started bawling into Liam's shoulder when Ariana got up to speak about how great Lillian was and shared some of the memories she had of her quote- "beloved sister"- unquote. They'd asked me to prepare a speech, too, being that I'm her husband and all, but I couldn't find it in me to go up in front of a room full of people when I could barely drag myself out of bed. They'd asked her parents to do it, too, but Ariana was apparently the most emotionally stable of us all. I felt bad for her father, first his wife and now his daughter.

Ariana's speech ended quickly and I barely heard her over my Lillian induced thoughts, and some people clapped but most stayed silent, applauding her with sniffles instead. The preacher went up there and spoke about life and death and a little bit about God's will and how He always has a plan. Now, I wasn't sure I believed in God, and if there was a God, I didn't like him very much right now. His plan was shit. This must have been payback for the terrible person I used to be, giving me life just to rip it away. This was my hell. God was an asshole as far as I was concerned.

The service wasn't very long, and while Mr. and Mrs. James thanked everyone for coming by the doors, I took the opportunity to go see Lillian.

They'd dressed her in a black dress,l and put a necklace on her that probably cost more than I'd ever be worth and put so much make up on her face that her cheeks still looked warm and you couldn't tell just how hollow her face had gotten. The James' had even put a wig on her head, which was shit, really. She still looked like my Lillian, like she was just sleeping and she'd wake up and ask me what I wanted for breakfast soon. I was crying again, as I reached out and brushed a hair off her cheek. She was cold and I started to cry harder when I saw her wedding band on her finger.

"Harry," Ashton's gentle voice made me turn around. I didn't even bother to wipe my cheeks or pretend like I wasn't crying. I'd lost my wife, the only woman I'll ever fucking love. I could cry if I needed to. "Let's go home, yeah?"

And I nodded slowly as he put his hand on my shoulder and led me outside where snow was falling down in fat flakes. I didn't care enough to bother with buckling my seatbelt and Ashton didn't grill me on it.

"Hey man," he said gently when the car was beginning to actually feel like it was suffocating me. "It'll be okay, I promise. She loved you and-"

"Could you just shut the fuck up Irwin?" I barked and he bit his lip but turned his attention back to the road. I think he understood.

"Okay, we'll be at your apartment in a few minutes."

"No," I demanded. I didn't want to go back there. I couldn't see Lillian again. I couldn't handle it, especially not after that fucking funeral. "Take me somewhere else."

"Are you sure-"

"Yes," I interrupted him. "Take me to the bar."