Marrying a Boxer | H.S.

Chapter 23

My body falls to the floor from the force. Harry storms out of the room, fuming. I keep crying, holding my stinging cheek. I never thought he would ever lay a hand on me. I get up from the floor slowly and lay on the bed. I shouldn't have touched that box. But also, Harry shouldn't have reacted that way. He shouldn't have slapped me.

I feel my eyes starting to close, and I let sleep embrace me.
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The next morning, I get up and head straight to the ensuite. I look at myself in the mirror and see a horrible bruise covering most of my right cheek. "Fucking bastard," I mutter under my breath. I turn the shower on, and wait for the water to warm up before stepping in. I scrub my body hard, as if yesterday's memories were going to wash away.

I can't help but think back to those photos and letters. I want to know who this Leila girl is. From what the letters said, it must be Harry's ex. I wonder if he had to break up with her because of this marriage. Does he still see her? I can tell he was very in love with her. Maybe his mother made him end things so we could get married.

I sigh and step out of the shower. Thinking all of this made me feel like shit. Why did I have to find that damned box? Why did I have to look inside? If I had just left it alone, Harry wouldn't have gotten violent and I wouldn't be having these doubts now.

I throw on sweatpants and a hoodie, and lay on the bed. I can't stop thinking about that Leila girl. I must know who she is, and if she still sees Harry.

There is a soft knock on the door and a second later it opens. I don't turn around to see who it is, even though I already know. The door is closed and footsteps approach the bed.

"Scarlet? Are you awake?" Harry asks in a soft voice. I take a deep breath. "Please talk to me, baby."

"What do you want?" I ask hoarsely, not looking at him. He didn't sleep here last night. I don't even think he was home.

"Scarlet... I deeply apologize. I can't believe I did that to you, I've never laid a hand on a woman before. I don't know what happened, my anger took over and I wasn't thinking. Please look at me." I take a deep breath and hold back the tears. I am not going to cry in front of him.

I slowly turn to look at him and he gasps, frowning. "Take a good look, Styles," I say. "Is this what you wanted? Did you want to see me like this?"

He shakes his head and looks down in shame. "I cannot begin to tell you how sorry I am. I know that doesn't make anything better. I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know. I'm a monster, Scarlet. You deserve so much better than me." My heart clenches at his pained words.

"Can I ask you something?" I ask, quietly.

"Of course." He nods.

"Who is that girl?" I don't look at him, I keep my eyes down on my hands.

I hear him take a deep breath, and it takes him a few minutes to answer. I look up at him and see his eyes are closed, as if he was trying to keep bad images out. I am about to tell him it's okay if he doesn't want to talk about it, but he starts speaking.

"She was my girlfriend." He whispers.

"Do you still see her?" I don't want to hear the answer to this, but I must know.

"No," he swallows hard. "I have not seen her since I was 16. She... she was killed." His voice breaks.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "Is it okay if I ask what happened?" I want to understand why he reacted that way.

"She was driving back to her house, and a truck crashed into her. Her car was totaled. She passed away on the way to the hospital. I've always felt responsible for it." He says.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

"That night she was at my house and we had a bad fight. She was crying when she left. I shouldn't have let her leave like that. The person driving the truck drove away before the police showed up, they never caught him. I was so angry, and in so much pain that I started taking boxing lessons to let it all out. That's how I started boxing." He sighs. "I really loved her. I know it might sound silly since I was only sixteen, but I loved her with all my heart. That box you saw last night, her mother gave it to me. She kept all the photos and letters I gave her. I know I shouldn't have reacted the way I did, and I definitely shouldn't have hurt you like that."

I stay quiet for a minute, taking in all this new information. I know what it feels like to lose someone that way. I can sympathize with him. It's hard to get over such an unfortunate loss. "I'm sorry," I say.

"It's in the past, now. It hasn't been easy to deal with it, but I've learned to live with that." He lifts his hand slowly, and caresses my cheek. His touch is light, barely touching my skin. "I will never forgive myself for doing this to you." I bring his face close to mine and kiss his lips. I agree that he was wrong to slap me, but I also know he did not mean to do so. I know that when his anger takes over him, he doesn't think about his actions.

"Please tell me this won't happen again." I whisper against his lips.

"I swear on my life I will never lay a hand on you again, baby." He wraps his arms around me and pulls me in for a tight hug. I close my eyes and breathe in his scent.

I notice a bouquet of roses next to him. "Are those for me?" I ask, nodding in the direction of the flowers.

"They are," he smiles and hands them to me. I smile a at him.

"Thank you," I kiss his cheek and open my mouth to say something else but decide against it. I can't tell him. Not yet.

"Sweetheart, I must go to the gym to train. I'd love to stay with you, but you know I have a fight coming soon."

I sigh and look down, nodding. "I know. It's okay, go."

"I'll see you tonight, Sweetheart." One last kiss on the lips and he's out of the room.

The words I wanted to say to him come out as a weak whisper once he closes the door behind him, "I love you."