Wedlock - Harry Styles A.U

eight

Edora

I find myself waking from my slumber in the early morning to my stomach churning, feeling incredibly nauseous. My hands rest on my stomach as I lay on my back, taking deep breaths, trying to convince myself that I'm not going to throw up and it's all in my head - it's not in my head.

Very quickly, I find myself racing to the bathroom and emptying out the contents of my stomach into the toilet. Coughing and dry heaving, I'm in tears, frustrated at myself for throwing up again as if it's something that can be helped.

After Harry's visit yesterday, I was okay. I didn't feel sick and I didn't throw up anymore. I felt silly for having a whole day off work when I eventually felt fine. I was sitting on the sofa with snacks, watching Netflix until the day bled into night. In hindsight, that would've been a good opportunity to read through the divorce papers but with the way Harry spoke to me, it makes me not want to just to piss him off even more.

Once I'm able to get a full breath in, I'm groaning before flushing the toilet and pushing myself back up to stand. I walk back into my bedroom and grab my duvet, making the decision to camp out beside the toilet so I haven't got to keep running back and fourth. My stomach is swirling and it's safe to say that I'll never be eating Spaghetti Bolognese ever again.

My cheek rests against the toilet seat, my body wrapped in my duvet as I close my eyes and attempt to drift off. It's five in the morning, my alarm for work will go off in two hours. I need all the energy I can get because I really can't afford another day off.

I make it to six in the morning before I'm throwing up again and this time, it's much worse than the last. It's violent and hurts my chest, bleeds my throat sore, causes an ache in my stomach. Frustrated tears stream down my face when my alarm goes off signalling that it's seven in the morning, knowing that once again, I'm in no shape to go to work.

I really can't afford to not go in though, so I hop in the shower and attempt to freshen up, rinsing the sick out of my hair with my honey shampoo, washing myself from head to toe. I put on my uniform and dry my hair, determined to get out of the door but once again, I find myself hunched over the toilet.

I call in sick again and give Trixie a text, letting her know that I'm still projectile vomiting everywhere. She is quick to shoot me a text back, calling me a bitch for leaving alone with our coworkers again. I do feel bad because if this was the other way round, I'd be dreading going in without Trixie.

Trixie: I'm coming over tonight and bringing a bottle of wine. We have a lot to catch up on, love muffin.

I frown at my screen before rolling my eyes.

Edora: I'm projectile vomiting and you want me to drink a bottle of wine?

I put my phone down for a moment, hanging my head over the toilet and taking deep breaths when I feel my stomach begin to churn again. Trixie is quick to respond.

Trixie: Well you're signing divorce papers today, you'll need a drink and if not then there's more for me!

I had told her last night that I was gonna sign them today, get it over with and figure out the rest later on. It has to be done, the money side can wait and if really needed, Harry can pay and I'll pay him back in instalments.

Edora: You got me there.

Trixie: Okay what are the bets that Harry brings his children into the nursery for a second day in a row?

I snort at her text and type out my response.

Edora: Considering he has no nanny, I think the chances are strong.