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Chapter 12

A week later and everything seemed to be as it had been before Harry. He was back with his “friends”. He had given them some kind of explanation, I didn’t even care about. I wasn’t too sure if Harry had been lying to me or if he was lying to them now. I was wondering a lot about the things he had told me, about himself. Who was Harry Styles really? 

Most of the time I tried to not think about him too much though. He was popular Harry again with his mass of friends, and I had my best friends, Liam and Niall. Just the three of us again. Everything was the same again.

Though it wasn’t really. As much as my routine had turned back to normal. Waking up, school, meeting Niall and Liam, talking with my mum, making homework, going to bed. The most normal things weren’t as they had been before. Because now, there was always that agonizing ache deep inside my chest, remembering me every single second of the day, and unfortunately also the night, of the love I had lost.

It really was as if he had ripped out some pieces of my heart and had taken them with him. The first few days of our break-up were the worst time ever. After me, Niall and Liam had spent the afternoon together, I had went home, to meet my mother in the kitchen, asking me when Harry would come around again.

The mention of his name, which Liam and Niall had avoided so hard the whole afternoon, had brought tears to my eyes again. It wasn’t as embarrassing to cry in front of my mum as it was in front of the whole school, but I had still felt rather awkward as she had wrapped her thin arms around me and hugged me with so much love and care, only my mother could put into a hug, and maybe Harry. After I had explained what had happened to Harry and me, she had looked at me worriedly and pitifully, but hadn’t said a word, she didn’t need to though.

If there was one thing about my mother I liked the most, it was her ability to show that she cared rather with gestures than with words. She hadn’t said anything about the situation I was in, but instead had cooked all my favourite foods for the next few days.

She had made sure everything was tidy, so I didn’t have to help her doing housework. I felt really bad about kind of taking advantage of her kindness, but I hadn’t exactly been in a state of doing much. A week after I had received Harry’s letter, I eventually decided to start living again, as well as you could with your heart feeling like it was only half working.

I started doing the washing-up again, I tidied my room by myself, I actually did my homework, I even cooked for my mum some times. I tried everything to appear as if I had gotten over Harry already - which I of course hadn’t. Every night I still cried myself to sleep, hoping for a call from him that would never come.

However, at least I didn’t hurt others, meaning my mum, Liam and Niall, with my constant sadness anymore. Who cared that acting all happy literally destroyed me from the inside?

The worst part of acting like I was okay was being in school though - more specific being in the same History class as Harry. What once had seemed to be the best part of my lessons, now was hell. In all the weeks that had passed, he had not once glance at me, except for that one time he had tried to talk to me during lunch.

I kind of wondered what he had wanted to say, but whenever I thought about that, I told myself it wasn’t worth to rack my brain about it. He probably only had wanted to make sure I had got the message and knew we weren’t together anymore.

The 13th, the day our anniversary should have been, was worse than all the other days add together. Everything reminded me of Harry. I couldn’t go one step without noticing something that resembled Harry in some way. Like the dimples I noticed on some girl in my Maths class.

They were nowhere near the perfection of Harry’s, but they were enough to make my eyes burn with tears. Great it was only the second period and I was already on the edge of crying. How was I supposed to survive my next lesson, History?