Harry Styles Imagines

You Were Mine

What went wrong can be forgiven. Without you it ain't worth livin' alone.

She's asleep next to him, her heart beating softly, her quiet snores escaping her perfect heart shaped mouth. Her forehead holds the crease between her eyebrows, showing she's stressed. Her hair is in disarray, sprawled out across her white pillow. He stares at her, longingly, seeing the woman he thought was the one, someone he loved.

He feels terrible, worthless. She doesn't deserve this. She deserves a man who will treat her with love and support. A man who is in it for the long run. A man who isn't him.

He looks to his left, the clock reading five thirty-four am. She rustles next to him, her arms reaching out toward his warmth. He doesn't stop her. She deserves this one last cuddle; she deserves to feel safe one last time before he tells her. He snuggles deep into the bed, her etched into his side.

He finally closes his eyes after an hour of rustling, crying, and avoiding waking her up. He is terrified, worried for the future because he knows the next time he wakes up and speaks to his wife will be the last.

What he doesn't know is she is wide awake next to him. Her snores are fake and that rustling to make him cuddle her was a last ditched effort to let him know that she loves him.

Most people can tell when their spouse has reached their breaking point. Harry reached his months ago. She tried to make him feel better, cooked his favorite foods, watched his favorite films, she even gave him space despite him never asking for it.

They were perfect for each other, everyone who knew them said it, but those assumptions were based on black and white storylines.

They got married at nineteen, both eager to spend forever with each other. After year one, things took a turn for the worse. Harry came home angry, bitter that she'd taken his youth away. He resented her and he had no clue why. She was his everything and she truly made him happy, but something inside of him always wondered if he'd made the right decision by getting married so young and not weighing his options.

His mum's word always lingered in his head. Marriage isn't something to throw away when it's not pretty anymore. You fight and you fight until you can't anymore. Harry was tired, though. He had fought. Fought and fought until his body was exhausted. He loved her and he wanted the best for her, but he knew it wasn't him.

He made the decision two months prior. He didn't know how he'd do it, how he'd tell her, how he'd break the news to his mum shortly after, but he gave up on pleasing everyone. He knew that life was short and he wouldn't spent their time fighting for something that was long gone. They deserved better. They needed to stop while they were ahead.

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She wakes up earlier than usual. Harry's constant tossing and turning kept her awake. She walks downstairs, makes a pot of coffee, and prays. She's never been the best at praying. She always went off on a tangent that wasn't her original cry for help. She talked and talked until she couldn't anymore, but in this case, it was a coping mechanism. If she talked and talked, it meant less time stressing and worrying. She couldn't handle the anxiousness.

She found the papers last month. She was cleaning his office space and found them tucked under his calendar. She debated asking him about it, confronting him and causing a scene. She knew it would only make things worse, so she avoided the conversation and spent as much time as she could. She knew this was the end.

She goes upstairs, walking into his study. Her body immediately takes her to the small couch he insisted they buy. He wanted her to have a spot in there while he worked. She deserved to be near him whenever she wanted. Oh, how times have changed. She can't remember the last time she'd been on that couch.