I thought you'd come back.

TWO YEARS LATER...

A divorce at any age was never easy. Not at fifty-six, not at forty-seven, and defiantly not at twenty-two.

Especially not at twenty-two.

Everyone was so surprised when we suddenly got married. They all told me how young we both were. That even after everything we've been through Harry might not even be the one (And really. Everyone knew Harry was the one. I knew from the first moment I met him. He was lanky, he was sweet, he was my dream.), I was a kid when I said "I do", and now I'm not.

I had married Harry when I was twenty (barley stable with no family present) Though, I had fallen in love with him when I was seventeen. He was pretty, and funny. He had the kind of eyes you could get lost in. And I did. So lost, that I forgot that when you love someone. They have to be nice to you too.

"Did you get the papers, Harry?" I had faxed them over last night. I know how impatient Harry can get and how fast his anger can spike.

"I did," Harry rasps, shifting uncomfortably in his plush chair. Harry likes jeans, and his black trousers are defiantly not his normal pair of jeans. He leans on his elbow, and smiles softly. "How are you?" Harry used to ask me everyday. He always wanted to make sure I was fine, and happy because I wasn't always.

Because I sometimes remember the time period where he left.

Now, he only asks because he can still see the devastated, on the verge of desperate, look on my face when he surprised me with the divorce papers one morning during breakfast. Harry knows I had only agreed because I loved him. Because I'd be capable of doing anything just to make sure he was happy.

Even if I wasn't and I'd end up alone. Again. But this time at least I know where he'd be.

"I'm okay. Thank you," Truth be told I was angry and hurt and wounded. But okay is the same thing I think.

Harry nods clearly not expecting that answer. Clearly not expecting the politeness.

"Alright," Marge clears her throat. Marge was Harry's lawyer, she was nice, and just like me was surprised when Harry began acting out towards me and then proceeding to slam me with the horrid papers. "Sweetheart, will your lawyer be joining us?"

I shake my head, "No, I asked him not to be here for this."

Harry's eyebrows furrow, and his lips frown. "Why?"

Today was an important meeting. It was the order of dissolution. We'd be deciding who got what, and who lived where. Harry was sure i'd want my lawyer here to make sure I was getting a fair deal. It is what is expected to happen during an ordinary divorce.

Harry must have forgotten that I wasn't an ordinary girl who felt in ordinary type of love for him.

"That's alright," Marge smiled. "We're good people, aren't we Harry?"

Harry chooses to stay silent. I don't think he's been particularly good. Instead, he leans back possibly trying to ignore the way my heart has sped up. Marge opens up her brief case, and pulls out the familiar manilla folder.

"That won't be necessary," I say surprising Harry, and Marge. "I only want one thing, and I'm only asking for it. I'm not demanding anything."

"Wait, bab-- erm," Harry coughs during his word slip. "It's supposed to be fifty-fifty. I didn't have you sign a prenup. You're entitled to half of everything." And it is in that moment I know every single male celebrity in the world would have laughed and thrown things at him for being stupid.

"Harry's right," Marge agrees. "However, we'll listen to your request, and then move on from there. The floor is yours," she motions with her hand, sitting back down as I stand fixing my jacket.

And when I look up, Harry's face cracks lightly. I feel like I look so young. So lost, and sad. Harry knows it's his fault. Knows he's the reason, me, his wife-- soon to be ex-wife, nevertheless, same person he swore his love too, that he'd protect from this sort of pain, is feeling this way.

I have to try and remember that this is what's best. That he wants this because-- and, fuck... I don't remember,... I don't even think he ever had a good enough reason besides his own selfishness.

I close my eyes, and inhale deeply. I never thought I'd be doing this. That I'd be here having to ask Harry for this because he was done with me.

Because even though Harry doesn't want to say it out loud I know there is someone else. Someone new that is everything I wasn't for him. It is my worst nightmare that doesn't seem to be stoping when I wake up.

"I know we're supposed to do this fifty-fifty split thing, but, I don't want too. I don't want anything, any of your money, cars, vacation houses. I don't even want the whole spousal support. That shit is embarrassing if I'm honest," it wasn't how my dad raised me. (My parents and Ben still can't believe I'm doing this. Louis won't talk to Harry anymore and he is still pretending I don't know why.)

Dad wouldn't want me to be dependent on a man, let alone my now ex-husband. My dad would be disappointed, and I think I've already disappointed enough people already. Aka, Harry, and that's the biggest blow if I'm honest.

Still, there was one thing I wanted. One thing I couldn't see myself walking away from without even asking. I look at Harry, knowing it's not the same boy I fell in love with, who held me when he came back into my life demanding for me to spend time with him, who promised we were end game.

It makes me sad. He makes me terribly sad.

"The only thing I want is my old apartment back. The one you bought because I was too sad to see someone else live in it. I know your...I know she is staying in it but--" I see Harry's eyes widen in shock, maybe horror and I have to remind myself that he didn't know that I knew about Nataliea.

And right, he didn't know because he stopped looking at me. Now he looks over me.

Harry's shoulders droop in shame I secretly hope. Thats all I want to think he is. Completely ashamed. That He doesn't think he's ever been so ashamed. "I-- I'm so sor--"

"Can I have it back?" I cut him off. I don't want his apologies. It'll only make it real. "I understand if she-- if you'd rather I look for--"

"It's yours," Harry now cuts me off maybe wishing I had asked for more. That I was beating the shit out of him because he is shit. He's lousy and dirt and I love him. "How long have you known," Harry asks like he has to know. Like He has no other choice. And apparently Marge agrees judging by her subtle, shocked glances she's sending both of us.

I shrug, "Your songs used to be about me, and now they're not. You used to be nice to me and now you're not. I think it's because you're nice to her and you write about her eyes now."

In his songs the eyes are blue, but mine are brown. He wrote about short light hair, and I have long, with a slight wave, black hair. He likes the roughness, and I can't be that for Harry. Can't be hard, and mean, and cold. Those words aren't love. They're playful and temporary. Something my love for Harry never was. It was serious, never ending, and soft. I had to be kind with Harry because he was kind to me (at least he used to be). I love him and now he doesn't love me anymore.

It's the worst thing to happen to me besides losing Caleb.

Harry knew he'd be caught in some way. That I'd smell a different perfume from mine on him, that maybe there'd be lipstick on his shirt or something. But being outed by the lyrics he wrote. God that just made it worse.

Harry doesn't know what he's saying and it hurts when he can't help but say, "It's not serious with--"

"Thank you for letting me have it back. I'll let Tom handle the rest, yeah? Thank you." I cut him off again gruffly and smile at a concerned and wide eyed Marge knowing it'll be a while (maybe not ever) that I'll get to see her again.

I grab my bag and as I'm about to walk out a hand captures my wrist and Im stopped. I squeeze my eyes shut before I spins. I can't cry. I won't. I don't need his pity. No. What I need is a drink.

"Marge, can we have a minute?" Harry asks in a tone that lets me know I'm not leaving and Marge has no choice but to go outside. "I can't let you leave without an explanation, please. Just...darling..." He says when we're alone.

Hearing Harry call me names like that is cruel. It was so much easier to hear the crude ones. The humiliating, degrading put downs.

"You don't owe me an explanation, Harry. I don't need one. You met someone else, and fuck, okay. I can't--" it hurts too much, and Harry is being a terrible human being if he can't see that.

"It's not serious with her--"

"But there's still a 'her' even if it's not serious." I cut him off.

"I... I know but it was never serious. Not like what we have--"

"Had," I finally snap. Harry must have forgotten the papers he demanded I sign that one grey morning. "What we had, Harry. You have something else now. Even if it's not serious it's something, and once you sign the papers it'll be the only thing you have."

Deep down I hope Harry feels a pang in his chest. Like a knife is being stabbed in him. His eyes are wet, and I hope he can't remember the last time he fucked up this bad. I pray he doesn't think he's ever made a bigger mistake than this.

He shakes his head, word vomit spilling between his lips. "I can fix this! I can-- I'll get rid of her, and I'll buy a new everything for that apartment so it'll be like it's brand new. We'll start over and--" I don't know where this is coming from. Maybe he's not ready to say goodbye to his wife. Maybe he'll never want me not to be his. It's my dream.

And in my dreams he still needs me. He needs me so much that he doesn't want to go through with this anymore. He can't and he's the worlds biggest idiot for barely realizing it.

Maybe He just needs to try even if he doesn't deserve the option to.

Even if it's too late.

"I've already signed the papers you gave me." I remind him. All that's left is for his name to be signed and we'll be done. This is what he wanted. What he had been rooting for since our accident. When he stopped being my husband who used to like the way I smiled and thought I was pretty. "You told me it'd make you happy, and that's all I ever wanted. So I did it. I let you go, and I think I let me go too." My eyes cloud up and I push Harry away from me. "Tom will be in contact with you and Marge soon."

I spin and walk out ignoring Harry calling my name and the way his voice is pleading for me to turn.

I remember when I sounded that way. I Can still feel the same soreness in my bones. And the itching in my fingers for a bottle.

Notes

This devastates me.