REDAMANCY [h.s. au]

33

"He is in my heart and I suffer."
- A. K. Ramanujan

⭑Holland⭑

Everything was perfect, until it wasn't anymore.

I should've known that things couldn't stay that golden forever.

I feel as if I've been unknowingly walking through a Hollywood studio, painted blue skies and birds chirping away, only to have the the bright lights turned off and the picturesque set to fall away.

Not that I didn't know what I was getting into when things started getting serious with Harry—that there would always be his ex-wife and a child from his marriage in the picture. I knew that being with Harry meant accepting all of that and everything that comes with it. And I never faltered with it. It never worried me because there was no reason to. Ivy and I get along swimmingly, Harry and I are solid as can be, or at least we were up until yesterday. He rarely, if ever, mentioned Melissa and neither did Ivy, to be honest. It was easy to forget that detail.

I guess that's why I feel so thrown off.

I've been sorting through all of the jumbled thoughts that are congesting my brain. They weave themselves around and over like invasive ivy. It's not a matter of loving Harry. That's not the issue at hand. The love I have for him is so deep, which is why this is weighing down on me so heavily.

He protected his daughter, first and foremost, as he should. He defended me viscously against her multiple attempts to talk down on me. I should feel reassured by everything I heard Harry say to her.

So why the fuck do I feel like this?

Is this our demise? Is this what Melissa wanted? Have her words gone to my head?

I sip on the lukewarm milky tea I made in an attempt to calm my nerves, although it's not solving anything but making the pit in my stomach churn.

It's been a little over 24 hours since it all happened. Harry has periodically texted me and I replied once, just to let him know that I'm fine—not really mentally, but physically fine. I feel like shit for just leaving yesterday, but I was overwhelmed. I needed to remove myself and gather my thoughts, although, that hasn't been successful either because I still don't know what the fuck the think. I told him I'd call him today and we'd talk about it, but as I hold my phone in my hand and stare at his contact picture, the ache in me doubles.

Taking a breath, I call him.

After one ring, he picks up.

"Holland," he breathed a sigh of relief. "Hi, baby."

"Hi," I squeak out, biting at my cuticles incessantly.

"You doing okay?" He asks.

"Uhm...I'm not sure," I tell him, truthfully. I can't lie to him.

It's quiet for a second. "You wanna talk about it? We probably should."

"Yeah. We probably should," I echo solemnly.

"Want to come over after Ivy goes to bed?"

"That works," I nod even though he can't see. "I'll be over then."