About (Harry Styles)

72.

For the first year of Charlotte's life - waking up to her crying in the middle of the night, getting used to breastfeeding, changing twenty thousand diapers a day - it was the biggest struggle I've ever faced. Raising a child isn't easy. She only felt comfortable when she was lying right next to me on the bed. She only ate when she wanted, never sticking to a consistent schedule. She was such a stubborn infant. And she still is even as toddler.

But when I looked at her, into those evergreen eyes of her's for the first time, so much like his, and hearing her giggle for the first time, seeing her beautiful smile and her dimples for the first time, I fell madly in love, a different kind of love from what I felt with him. I knew that I could never give her up. And that no matter how hard the road may be, everything would be okay as long as I had her.

Finding someone to watch her while I went job hunting was also an issue. It didn't help that it was New York. And even though I had help from Chris, I didn't want to rely on him all the time. I couldn't do that to him. He didn't ask for this.

When I finally got a job (also due to Chris' connections) I met loads of new people.  My social circle grew a bit bigger, but I don't consider them very close friends.  Just friends.  And some of them even had children the same age as Charlotte.

"But you have a choice.  She still has a chance to have a relationship with her dad.  You can't take that away from her."

Chris' words replay in my head like a broken record.  He's helped me through so much.  I really should give him more credit. Now that I think about it, I haven't done anything for him. He's given me a place to stay, helped me with looking after Charlotte. Maybe we could have some takeout tonight or go to an actual restaurant. It has been a while since we've both done something together. And he's probably sick of my cooking all the time. I've tried to learn but even after almost six years, I still can't get salt portions right.

"India?" 

India turns around in her spinning chair, her short black hair bouncing from side to side at the motion.  She's the first friend I made when I started working here at the magazine publishing house.

"Yes?" 

"Are you busy tonight?"

She shakes her head and pouts her purple stained lips.  "No, why?" 

"Do you think I could drop off Charlotte tonight around six?" 

"Sure! It's been a while since Charlotte and Rhea have had a play date," she mentions and I thank her. "Where you going? Have a date?"

She wriggles her perfectly threaded brows and I chuckle while putting down her silly, ambitious thoughts.

"No, just a friend."

"Man or woman?"

"Man."

"Didn't you know? Men and women can't be friends," she winks playfully and whips around back to her desk.

Little did she know how much that line reminds me so much of someone.

I did know. I haven't forgotten. What he said. How he felt. How he tasted. I haven't forgotten anything. Even if it is only to remain a dream. It's beyond painful to erase someone like him from my memory.