Walls Of Hearts

Chapter 116

It's been a long time, you guys. I've missed being here but since I've finished uni once and for all, I have all the time in the world to finally focus on this, cuz I know it takes me long to update usually. I hope you like this chapter - it's 14000 words, so VERY long. Make sure you have time and tissues on your hand - it's another emotional one! Let me know what you think x Please vote, it'll give me motivation to continue cuz I know i've been away for so long so I dont know if anyone is still here!

Airports won an award for being the most sentimental place created by man. It's the place where so many languages mix and collide, yet everyone connects in one - as the shared experience ties everyone together. Whether you're leaving home, discovering to find a new home, or moving on to a new chapter of your life, there are deep emotions hostage in an airport. Maybe that's why goodbyes at an airport were the hardest as it hits you that there is an aspect to your life, people or experiences that you're bidding farewell to. Yet this always comes from a place of love and affection. Hence it was a complex mix of love and vulnerability, knowing that life intervened, putting a physical pause on a relationship. The emotions ran deep, a raw blend of love and longing yet fear and sadness, acknowledging that you'll have to do without those people for some time. Yet it was ironic that the love would only foster and grow in their absence.

It was rounding the time to have two airport goodbyes for me, and I knew I'd be a wreck for both. Especially when I sought physical company the most lately, willing for the chatter to fill my ears deep to forget everything else. I had to brace myself so I wouldn't be a blubbering mess, like a child on their first day of school, when Mum and Dad were leaving. That's why I spent more and more time with them leading up to the day before they'd leave. Solemn nights as I lay thinking about how life was about to change turned into brighter days where I loitered in their room, clinging to their limited time at our home like it was the most sacred thing to me.

Harry let me be as he witnessed me stress about them leaving, and cry as I feared the mere prospect of life going back to normal. At the core, I was an over thinker and Harry had gotten used to my wild thoughts, and frequent meltdowns. The accident and the miscarriage only intensified it on a greater magnitude.

Harry and I dropped off Mum and Dad, with Anthony following closely behind us in his car. Harry, who usually isn't the one behind the wheel, insisted on driving and I could sense his eagerness to do so. Even on tour, he's often chauffeured around from place to place, so I understood his desire to drive. I sat in the passenger seat beside him, watching him navigate the roads while engaging in the conversation in the car. Although he appeared relaxed, I noticed a subtle tension in him, perhaps due to the lack of security around us. Despite this, he tried to remain calm and collected, but I could tell his attention occasionally drifted to ensure we weren't being watched or followed.

As we arrived at the airport, the sun had fully risen, signaling the start of a new day. The roads around us were serene, with only a few early risers on walks or runs and commuters on their way to work. The morning was devoid of mindless chatter, with people simply going about their daily routines. It was so raw and vehemently human and intrinsically beautiful, a sense of familiarity and unity lingering in the air alongside the fresh smells of bakeries and cafe's with their deliciously laden breakfasts tempting people as they got on. 

As we drove past, and the radio was softly playing in the car and Dad, Mum and Harry were talking amongst one another, I couldn't help but watch everyone pass by around us. There were parents on the school run, conversing with other parents, their kids running like they were on a sugar rush bright and early in the morning. I saw elderly men stopping by the convenience store, a daily routine potentially to grab a newspaper that they'd spend their morning read, whilst they'd eat breakfast with their wives, troubling them with their daily wordsearched. With their energetic strides, joggers filled the streets, shorts on, Apple Watches timing them. Then there were the smartly dressed people, briefcases in hand as they rushed to their workplaces, trainers on to get them faster to avoid peak hour. It was a scene of bustling activity, a symphony of lives in motion, something London was known for.