theadora : harry styles

a moment

The first time Harry met Y/N, it wasn't love at first sight; he simply wanted to devour her with everything he had in him, and it did not matter if they saw each other after that or not. He remembers her black dress, hugging her frame just right, and her questionable shoe choice, though she made the tall heels work beautifully which came as a surprise to him. When she first caught his eye, he remembers the puzzled expression on her face, as if to say, why are you staring at me? He couldn't help but stare though, couldn't help but take her in.

She stood at the bar, next to a friend of a friend, and as they people-watched, Harry watched her. He watched the judgement in her eyes as she eyed a couple of people from her line of work, and Harry couldn't help but smile when she turned the judgement in her eyes into an angelic smile, nodding at said people as they walked past her. She was something else, and Harry simply wanted to hear her voice clearer instead of the hushed chatter coming from where they stood.

So, when she looked up at him for the second time, he had excused himself to go up to them, and introduce himself to her.

The rest was history.

Their first date was a disaster. Disaster, because Harry had gone and fucked it up by trying to cook something he's never attempted to cook before: beef Wellington. While they were busy sipping on the wine she's brought, said beef burned in the oven, emitting an unpleasant smell before the fire alarm had gone off, bringing them back to reality, bursting their bubble. She had laughed, watching from one of the stools as he put some pasta on to boil, and apologised profusely, though according to her, you've nothing to be sorry for, it happens. That was it, he was almost there; he was falling hard, and he didn't know what to do.

He let it happen.

The love only grew, especially when she got pregnant with Theadora. He loved watching her belly grow every week; every month, and never complained when she wanted nothing to do with him at bedtime because I don't like the smell of your hand cream, it makes my head hurt. He loved her, loved her so much, and when the divorce papers got delivered to his flat, he signed them in a heartbeat, just to show her. Show her what she would be missing, though it turned out to be the opposite, having to live without her, without them as a result. Perhaps, he should've protested, and not signed them that quickly. Ever since that day, he lived in what if's, wondering what would happen if held his ground.

It was what it was. He had to learn how to live without Y/N, without Theadora. That was the worst part, he thinks, having to live without his baby, not being able to witness her grow up into the most precious toddler, watch her sleep every so often and feed her, witness bath times and the first steps... he knew he was missing out.

One side of him felt anger towards Y/N. Anger, for she let everything come to this, come to divorce, and ultimately, not giving Theadora the chance to grow up in a single household. Although he wanted and dreamed of that, he also knew he wasn't your ordinary father and that his job held him back from being a 'normal' parent. He felt guilty, for the anger he harboured inside, and for the time he couldn't spend with his daughter. He wanted to do more, he wanted to be more. He was trying, he certainly was, and he knew sometimes, he let work come before every important thing in his life, which included Theadora. As his mother said, he needed to learn how to say 'no', and work less in order to spend more time with Theadora, and help Y/N in co-parenting for he knew she wouldn't be able to co-parent on her own.

He presses the side button on his phone, and smiles at the photo of Theadora, smiling with two bottom teeth with Harry's blue cap on her head, covering most of her face: forehead and green eyes. Though, nothing beats the dimpled-smile, Harry thinks. He sighs, and takes another sip from his wine as Adele sings softly in the background.