At least, I thought he was crying for me. I thought that every time I cried because it hurt me so bad not to eat for him, and he held me in our bed and cried with me, that his tears were for me. I thought that his suffering was for my suffering. And I believed that for a number of years.
I believed that theory even as I started to become heathy again through his empowerment, but when he went away for another year in countries I was not and did not take me with him because I was too frail and fragile and left me alone to my own thoughts, I was not healthy. And the gradual decay he saw over a computer screen at three in the morning could never compare to the utter decay of my body and devastation on his face when he returned home from his tour. The way he collapsed next to my empty body on the bathroom floor couldn't compare to the way that he got to see my cheekbones become more prominent through his phone screen right before he was on stage each night.
But the happiness that I felt when he made me eat pancakes in the morning before we danced on the living room carpet was in my heart again after that day. He put meat on my bones and a smile on my face and another layer between my skin and bones. He kept me safe by looking in my eyes and not at my stomach. He kept me safe by kissing my lips and neck and not laying a finger on my stomach. He kept me safe by taking me on dates to expensive restaurants and telling me to treat myself and not forgetting to tell me that I always looked beautiful.
But then there was talk of another tour after their album was released and I fell Asleep again. I forgot to eat and I forgot to shower and I forgot to take my medicine, but the one thing I couldn't forget was that he smiled more before I was with him.
I couldn't forget that I would see his dimples over and over again on my feeds before I met him, but after that day, I only saw it on occasion, and it's becoming more and more rare by the day. He would only smile when I would eat a piece of chocolate or if I would drink something other than water or when I would take the initiative to kiss him first, but he wouldn't just laugh or goof around anymore. And he was still my sunshine and I was still his biggest fan and fans put their idols first and that's what I told myself when I signed the divorce papers on the day that he was at his album release party and probably wouldn't get home until three a.m.
I had finally found my way to end this nightmare and get back to the real world.
And so I waited for him in the kitchen, nibbling on celery and running my fingers over the blank space where his name would soon rest. I didn't notice that my tears were still going and soaking the thick packet until I looked up at the sound of the lock on the door being turned. I immediately fixed my posture and stared at the door until he walked in.
He greeted me and I smiled at him and quietly pushed the papers forward. He asked me what was wrong as he took steps forward. I didn't answer him, so he didn't even glance at the papers and made a beeline for me. He asked me why I was still awake and I reached over and grabbed the papers and gave them to him. He took them and took once glance at them before he started muttering the word no. I was nodding my head at him and keeping his dimpled smile in mind as I handed him a black pen.
What I wasn't expecting was for him to take it out of my hands and write his name faster than I could tell him to stop.
p.s. I had planned on Harry giving her the papers until five seconds before I wrote this chapter
