Would You Still Love Me If...

Chapter 42 (Final Chapter)

Chapter 43

Lily's POV

~*~6 months later~*~

It's been six months since my mother's death. Not much has happened since then. For the first two months, everything was pretty hard, more difficult than usual. I didn't have the strength to eat and I was practically a walking zombie. During the first two months, I cried myself to sleep every night, but the crying sessions decreased which I guess was a good thing. I came to the conclusion that I was running out of tears to cry.

Harry had forbidden me from going to work. I didn't protest much after we argued that morning. I didn't feel like going to work either,  I wasn't really in the mood to be talking to strangers and placing fake smiles on my face as I took people's orders when in the inside I was practically dying.

One of my bosses understood my situation and gave me the two weeks off but I think he just pitied me. At this point, everybody pitied me, but I stopped caring what others thought of me long ago. When I went on tour with the boys, when I got all of that hate, it taught me that it doesn't matter what others think. They don't know me and what I do. They just assume because they have nothing better to do than sit behind a computer screen and judge people like myself.

I got fired from one of my jobs, the one in the clothing store. I wasn't really upset, I was just angry at my boss who told me that he didn't have the time to wait for me to get back to work. So he fired me and started to look for a replacement. He was an ass anyways.

My mother always told me that she'd prefer to be cremated when she died so that's what I did. I got a call from family members from northern England, telling me that they were sorry and that if I needed to talk to somebody I could talk to them. But those people aren't my family. Yeah, we may be blood related, but I only met them once or twice. That didn't mean they were family. Thy only started to talk to me because they pitied me.

During the weeks that I didn't work I just stayed home with Angie cuddled up in bed and watching Blue's Clues. Harry would stop by my flat practically everyday to check up on me. No matter how many times I told him that I was okay, he never believed me. I felt like a piece of glass before him. He could see right through me.

He would knock on my door and bring dinner or he'd show up early in the morning with toys for Angie then he'd make me breakfast. We didn't talk much about 'us'. We just avoided the subject because we both knew that I wasn't ready for a relationship. But what I really needed was a friend, somebody who cares and would be there for me. In other words I needed Harry.

Four months after my mother's death, he asked me if I wanted to try and be with him once again. I agreed of course, but with the condition that we'd take things slow. So that's where we're at right now. Taking things slow. I'm not sure how well that's working because Harry often steals random kisses from me; he sometimes stays for the night, and has wanted to take me for a date for a while.

Once I finally agreed to go, he was ecstatic. It wasn't really a date. It was more of a celebration. Today was my birthday. It was just Harry, Angie and I. I didn't want anybody else coming, I rather have a small celebration instead of some big party with alcohol and loud music.

Harry has been acting quite happy for some reason and has been very impatient to take me out for my birthday. It's as if it was his own birthday rather than mine. He brought a birthday present that he placed on the empty seat next to him for me to open later into the dinner.

Angie, who was sitting on a high chair next to me was too focused on her mini burger that I had ordered for her to whine over how she wants the present,  even though Harry told her countless times that it was mommy’s birthday and not hers.