The Maid For Styles

Chapter 73

Chloe's POV

A thick, almost suffocating, tension was palpable in every nook and cranny of the house. Overnight, it had managed to settle down and cast its shadow upon us all, leaving all interaction to be careful and cautious. Every word spoken seemed as if it'd been thought of so precisely before it was voiced, in case they only exacerbated the discomfort. It had always been said you were supposed to be feel at ease in your own home, yet the house was anything but comfortable to stay in at that particular moment in time. The boys were treading lightly, in the event of accidentally saying the wrong thing and bringing me to tears, whilst I was trying my hardest to avoid Harry.

As painful as it was to see him sauntering around the house with obvious bags sitting under his eyes, it somehow relieved me in a way to physically see his apparent lack of sleep. I'd managed to convince myself it was because I wasn't cuddled up to his torso and his arms weren't holding me as tight as they possibly could, but there was also the possibility that guilt was eating him alive, and both options gave me a sick feeling of satisfaction. In saying that, the desire to crawl into his bed that night had been intense, but I reminded myself that I wasn't going to allow myself to be the weak, lovesick girl I tended to be, and run back to Harry without an apology.

It was hard to know that with each hour that passed, Harry wasn't going to apologise. I'd figured that my pain would somehow drive him to reconcile with me, but it was apparent that it hadn't. He'd told me that kicking me out was wrong, but I knew that he thought his other intentions that night had been fine, and that wasn't the case. He hadn't realised that the entire night had been something he needed to apologise for, and that cut deep. With each passing minute, the ache in my chest would intensify and I would stand as a damaged soul with a broken heart in the middle of the house, crying for an apology I knew was unattainable.

Harry was incredibly selfish, leaving me to drown myself in my sorrows. I'd always been under the impression he was the one to save me from any harm thrown my way, and he would always be the one to make everything better, but he had completely proven me wrong when he'd been the one to initiate the destruction. I needed him more than he knew, but I was certain that even if he had the slightest idea just how much I required his comfort and remorse, his pride would get in the way, and I would remain with nothing but ice-cream and blankets for consolation.

A small smile that was supposed to mend the broken heart of mine, only managed to shatter it more, when I grasped the fact that it had indeed been Harry that had sent it my way. That had been his way of acknowledging me after the night in the bathroom, and to him, it may have been seen as something that could've comforted me, only it sent me into a world of despair and confusion. With a tired eyed gaze and a pathetic excuse for a smile, he only managed to perplex me in a way that made me wonder why he wouldn't just apologise. The smiles he sent me were never reciprocated, and I could see his fall when he was met with nothing but a teary gaze. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that he would feel disappointed when I didn't interact with him in the way he wished for, even though he knew all he needed to do was apologise for my forgiveness.

As the day droned on and I steered clear of Harry as much as I possibly could, I'd managed to clean the house from top to bottom. It seemed to me that it was the only way I could distract myself, yet when I caught a glimpse of Harry out the corner of my eye, every memory came flooding back, and I'd find myself crying once more. I was almost sure that it wasn't normal for one body to produce as many tears as mine had, but somehow my eyes kept leaking the salty liquid that would dampen my face and leave my lungs screaming for air as I struggled to breathe between the sobs that escaped my mouth. It may have seemed almost childish and as if I was overreacting, but the pain I was trying to run from only returned at the times when I didn't need it, leaving me to crumble all over again. Tears had become my new best friend and the ache in my chest was slowly turning into one that I was very familiar with, and I was gradually coming to terms with the fact that I was probably going to be miserable for what would seem like an eternity to me.