The first night in my apartment, a Saturday, was the worst. I had to buy food and replacements for everything I'd left at Harry's house. I knew I'd have to go back to pack for Paris Fashion Week since Harry's house is home to everything I usually wear and use, but I couldn't bring myself to go back so soon. The first thing I did was call Eleanor that day, and ask if she'd like to come to Paris Fashion Week as my other guest, and she couldn't have been more excited. It was very late notice, but she didn't seem fussed in the slightest.
I barely slept. In part because I just missed Harry but also because his bed is so comfortable, and mine felt rock solid in comparison. I'm used to a bed that constantly smells like him, but my bed was just cold and smelt stale like dust, no matter how many times I washed the sheets. I became so used to his house that everything felt foreign in my own apartment, and I kept finding all these flaws. The couch wasn't soft enough, the fridge wasn't cold enough or my bed wasn't warm enough.
There was a constant dull ache in my chest that wouldn't go away. I avoided looking at my phone lock screen, my wrist with the butterfly, because both were reminders that made the dull ache turn into a much shaper pain that sometimes felt like it was consuming me. I felt almost pathetic for being so completely absorbed by Harry that I was acting like half a human when he wasn't with me.
I spent three days just in my apartment doing nothing. Everything reminded me of Harry, and I was trying to escape it, but he was everywhere. He didn't try to call or text me, and I wasn't sure if I was happy or sad about that, but I refused to call him. I always thought I was capable of being my own person, but I didn't realise how much it would hurt to not be with him. Even when we fought, I always wanted to be near him, but not this time.
I was in a rut and acting as though I was going through a breakup, and that behaviour continued when my mom arrived from New York. Since the fittings for the show guests were happening in L.A., she flew in on Monday and stayed at my apartment until we left for Paris on Thursday. I didn't tell my mom much about what happened, but she just hugged me and told me it would all be okay. I was surprised she didn't make any comments about how she wanted grandkids and how she wanted Harry to be her son in law, but my appearance was probably evidence to not go there.
The fitting on Tuesday was uneventful, and I plastered on a smile the whole time. Eleanor and my mom did a good job at keeping me distracted, but it was hard when I couldn't get Harry out of my head. Even then, I couldn't bring myself to take the necklace off, which was even more self destructive. I know it's not all his fault, but it's hard to not want to blame him for it. I didn't expect anything less from management, but I expected more from him.
I was styled in a black blazer dress, and matching open toe heels. The outfit was gorgeous, but it was hard to appreciate it fully. My mom decided on a black sequined long sleeve dress, which she looked beautiful in, and the styling team took advantage of Eleanor's long legs and dressed her in a black sequin belted jumpsuit. All the clothes and shoes were YSL, and I was in awe of being blessed with such an incredible opportunity and hated how I couldn't appreciate it fully. The stylists said our outfits would match the style on the runway, which made the whole experience seem more exciting.
I went back to Harry's house on Wednesday to pack for Paris Fashion Week since I'd been wearing clothes I'd left at my apartment all week. I purposely went in the middle of the day when I knew he would be at the studio, and it was hard not to be overwhelmed in a space that was so him. Harry has never been a messy person, and neither have I, so the house looked almost perfect to the untrained eye. But, the bed wasn't made, and a few of his hoodies weren't hanging up and there was a banana peel sitting on the counter.
After not being at the house for 4 days, everything seemed slightly unfamiliar. His smell was stronger everywhere, and the back garden looked much more in need of gardening than I remembered. When I opened the fridge, it was much emptier than I had ever seen it before. That scared me a little bit, so I went to Whole Foods and bought groceries for him with nothing better to do with my time. All vegetarian of course.
When I got back, I left a note on the fridge door. It would have just been easier to text him, but the idea of actually having to read his reply seemed too personal, so I left a note. That way I wouldn't have to see his response.
H,
I'm going to Paris tomorrow. Please take care of yourself. If you were wondering, I kept my promise and I'm still wearing the bee necklace. As you said, 14 karat gold for everyday wear. Your fridge is now full too.
I'll call you as soon as I'm home. I love you and I miss you.
I missed him more than I could even comprehend, because it was like he was everywhere but nowhere, yet I just couldn't bring myself to speak to him. I know we need to talk, and I desperately want to, but it all feels too fragile. If I speak, the whole thing might just shatter and I'd rather it be broken and untouched than shattered. For a long time it just felt rocky, but the second Niall opened his mouth, it became broken. If one more person opens their mouth then it might become more than just broken, and I'm not strong enough to let this fall apart more, even if that means just letting it sit in its broken state.
By the time we were at the airport to leave for Paris the next day, the stress of Paris had miraculously started to take over the parts of my mind dedicated to Harry. My anger towards him was finally gone now, just the dull ache, but it was being silenced with the noise of the plane engines and airport anyway.
We're in Paris now, after the 11 hour flight. Our flight left at 2 this morning, and because of the time difference, it's 11pm here now. YSL was kind enough to provide us with a driver to take us from the airport to the hotel, but after his first words, I realise he only speaks French.
'Bienvenue à Paris! Sophie Lawson, Kelli-Anne Lawson et Eleanor Calder, ici avec Yves Saint Laurent? Welcome to Paris! Sophie Lawson, Kelli-Anne Lawson and Eleanor Calder, here with Yves Saint Laurent?
'Absolument, c'est moi.' Absolutely, that's me. I smile, excited to use my French skills but exhausted for a multitude of other reasons. Eleanor and my mom are refreshed after their sleeping on the plane, and currently completely distracted looking around the airport. I, on the other hand, completely failed at sleeping on the plane. The no sleeping thing is starting to become an issue for me, but I'm putting up with it by drinking more coffees than I should. I can't think of anything better than sleeping in a bed with Harry right now, but then that leads to more problems than just not being able to sleep.
'Je comprends. Alors, à l'hôtel? Nous sommes près de la voiture, suivez-moi.' I understand. So, to the hotel? We're close to the car, follow me. He nods, and begins to lead us through Paris airport, Paris-Charles de Gaulle. The airport is designed in a very interesting way, but there's something fascinating about it. As we walk through, I notice people taking photos and videos of us. Neither Eleanor or I are very interested in being filmed right now, but my mom seems to have prepared for the occasion with a big smile, and looks quite thrilled at the situation.
Once we make it to the Ritz Paris, we're taken to our rooms. Each of us have our own room, and it's impossible to believe how well we're being treated. I would've been happy to stay on mattress at the train station, and I really don't think one post on the blog pays for all of this. My room is really only one room with a bed and bathroom, but it's gorgeous. There's a crystal chandelier and a canopy bed in the middle of the room, facing a marble fireplace. The room looks like somewhere fit for royalty, and there's a balcony that opens out to a view of Paris.
I've been to Paris many times with Harry, including when he's toured and when he came for the Dunkirk premiere, but I definitely haven't stayed in a room this nice. If he were here, I can imagine him walking straight over to the balcony and opening the doors, taking a deep breath in and spreading his arms open wide like in the Titanic. He does that whenever we arrive in a new country. I miss him a lot, and I'm so used to being in new countries when he's with me. It feels like I'm a child leaving the nest, as they say.
Sitting down, the bed is soft and squishy. I'm either losing my mind, or it feels a lot like Harry's bed. It's inviting and sleep sounds like a great idea right now, but I'm going to need to be more tired if I've got any chance of actually falling asleep without Harry.
My phone dings with a text, and I thank myself for buying a European SIM card. It's my mom, and why she felt the need to text when she could've just knocked on my door beats me, but I quickly unlock my phone anyway.
Your Harry is missing you
That's all it says, alongside a screenshot of a paparazzi photo of Harry walking out of the studio. The photo is a screenshot from an article, and the caption below the photo reads;
Working hard: Harry Styles leaves LA recording studio hours after bandmates during the early hours of the morning.
Why was he there so late without all the other boys? I don't want to think about what it means if he's done this every night since I've been gone. He's wearing white socks and white shoes, with a black jumper and the black pants he often wears when we run, and a beanie. It's typical of my mother to be reading the tabloids that come out about Harry or Harry and I, so this text really isn't surprising, but her caption makes no sense.
I look at the photo for a little while longer, and then I realise, he's wearing my grey beanie. The only reason my mom knows it's mine is because she bought it for me just before I went to college, in case my 'classes got cold', and now he's wearing it. I'm always wearing his clothes, but he nevers wears mine. Mainly because they're way too small for him, but it's just not something he does. Until now.
Text him and tell him you love him.
My mom is one to double text, so I quickly type back a response, feeling irritated by this conversation but so weak for feeling so much about just a simple photo. My mom adores Harry, and rightfully so; he's easy to adore, but I don't want these reminders of him while I'm on the other side of the world. He's already in my head enough, and I don't want to think about him wearing my beanie. I'm still so hurt, but how can I be upset with someone who does that? I really need to learn to stand my ground.
Whose side are you on, mom?
Her response comes quickly.
You and him are on the same side. You work through your problems together. Don't tell me you don't miss him.
As I read it, I realise I'm pinching my lip again. It's dark outside, yet the room is warm and illuminated in a warm glow, but I just feel sort of empty. And I shouldn't, because I'm here in Paris to experience such an incredible opportunity and fulfill a dream I've had for years, but I'm struggling. She's right, and I miss him and my heart just hurts when I think about it all.
I do miss him, I just don't want to think about it.
My whole thought process is counterproductive because by trying to not think about him, I just think about him more. Only when I fall back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling does a knock come on the door. The short, rapid tapping is a dead giveaway that it's none other than Kelli-Anne. I suppress a groan, and get up to open the door. I love my mom, I really do, and I know that deep down I need to talk to someone and she's doing what's best for me, but I'm honestly just not in the mood. I'm tired, sleep deprived and slowly becoming someone who's perpetually miserable, and it's not a good look.
'Hi mom.' I say, and she pulls me into a big hug in the doorway. She's done a lot of hugging of me recently, but I need it.
'Sophie Lawson. You have the biggest day of your life tomorrow, maybe second biggest to the day that you marry that boy, and you need to open up before you ruin this entire trip for yourself. A mother does not like to see her eldest daughter acting in such a way.' She says into my hair. My mom is only a little bit taller than me, but her hugs feel so comforting. She's obviously forgotten about the unwritten rule to not speak about a marriage to Harry, but I'll let it slide. 'You've barely told me anything about what happened, sweetheart.' My only response to that is a sigh. I do need to talk about it.
'So do you want to hear it?' I ask mindlessly, not at all ready to tell her.
'That's why I'm here, is it not?' She gently laughs, sitting down on the plush bed. I follow, sitting cross legged across from her. She's looking at me expectantly, and I decide I might as well just rip off the bandaid and start explaining.
'Things haven't been the same for a while. At first I thought it was just his insane schedule getting in between us, but then it started to feel like it was me. It was strange, because sometimes he'd be just like he always was, and then other times completely closed off.' I explain, and I feel like I'm meant to avoid mentioning anything about how his old self was so affectionate. I imagine my mom wouldn't want to hear all the stories, although she's Kelli-Anne, so maybe she'd want to hear it. She nods along with everything I'm saying, listening intently. She's always been so supportive in situations like these. 'Then on Saturday, I found out that his management team was wanting us to..break up and have Harry photographed with and dating other people..for publicity for the band, and he kept it from me. He struggles to open up when he's going through something, so maybe that's why he didn't tell me, but it just scares me.' I admit, feeling so terrible. I feel the familiar lump at the back of my throat and swallow before I continue. 'I yelled at him a lot, and I was probably too mean, but we haven't spoken since. He also forgot that I was going to Paris.' I breathe, hating each word as it comes out of my mouth. I only realise that I'm touching the necklace after I'm finished speaking. When Harry isn't around, I find a lot of subconscious comfort in touching things that remind me of him.
'He forgot you were going to Paris?' She gapes.
'I mean, yeah..is that the only thing you got from all that?' I ask, incredulously.
'That seems to be the worst thing he's done, in my opinion. That's bad, sweetheart, really bad. But the rest of it sounds to me like it has nothing to do with you.' She decides, sounding completely sure of herself. I honestly have no clue what she's talking about now. It's lucky she keeps talking, or I wouldn't have had anything else to respond with. 'You said it yourself, he has communication issues, so did it ever come to you that maybe he was closed off and didn't tell you because of that, and not because he's gone off you? His damn slogan is 'treat people with kindness', he wasn't trying to do the wrong thing.' She explains, and for some reason, what she says makes a lot of sense. 'I think I actually know him better than you do. Maybe I should be the one who's dating him, what do you think?' She realises, and I let out a small laugh.
'I think it would be best if you left the dating to me.' I laugh, eyes downcast. 'I understand what you're saying, but it's a lot harder when I'm in the situation and I just constantly miss who he used to be. It's hard to tell myself it's not me when almost every time we speak it feels like I'm being pushed away. And we do have our good moments, but it gets exhausting trying to remember every good moment, not knowing when the next one will come.' I sigh.
'I understand.' She says compassionately, pulling me into a hug. When she lets go, her eyes are soft, but there's no pity in them, like I've seen from everyone else so much recently. She just looks like she understands and knows what to do, and that's the most comforting look a mother could ever have. 'Here's what I think. Don't hold any of that against him. He's not a perfect human, as much as he may look it,' she says, mumbling the last bit, and I nearly laugh and end the conversation there, but the look in her eyes makes me think better of it. 'but I think you need to sit down with him and talk this through. Lay everything bare, tell him how you feel, and ask him how he feels. It might be hard since he seems to be the type to not want to share, but with my genes, you'll be able to get him to open up with one flutter of those eyelashes of yours. Don't expect him to just tell you, because you know he finds that hard, so you need to ask him directly. Relationships aren't perfect, sweetheart, and you're just figuring each other out. From what you said, he seems so busy with work at the moment, so maybe his headspace isn't all for you right now. You went from..what was it, a month? Of having nothing to do but each other,' She winks, and I have to stop myself from pushing her out the door. 'and now you're just adjusting into working life. And that's okay, as long as you're at least half of his thoughts. It gets exhausting to be all somebody thinks about anyway. Trust me, I'd know. The amount of boys who were after me in high school just became simply exhausting for me.' She laughs, reminiscing on memories that I don't fully believe actually happened. When she finishes her pep talk, I have no idea why this idea didn't come to me sooner. Here I was, ready to riot over the fact that he wouldn't be vulnerable, when I was doing the same thing. I've been more vulnerable than he has, but I've kept my feelings from him too. Sometimes I forget how new this is, and I get too caught up in thinking we have to be perfect all the time and should already know everything about each other.
'That's your Sophie thinking face.' My mom smiles, pointing her index finger to my face and pulling me out of my trance.
'My what?' I laugh.
'You pull that face when you think. That was your face every morning during your senior year.' She smiles. 'Regardless of that face, I think that while we're in Paris, let all those worries of yours go. You're a panicker, but don't panic over this. Enjoy the time here, and then you can talk with him the second you're back in L.A. Couples need their alone time anyway, so this time apart might be beneficial.' She says. I have no idea why this approach didn't come to me sooner. I needed a trip to Paris and my mom and sleep deprivation to come to a conclusion, but now I've reached it with some major assistance. 'My one other piece of motherly advice is that when you're back, make sure he's not working too hard. I can't have the father of my grandchildren collapsing from exhaustion.' She teases.
'I'll make sure of that.' I laugh, ignoring the little pain that that thought brings, even if it was just a joke. 'How did you know how to say all that? You said exactly what I needed to hear.' I ask, borderline astounded at my mom's talent.
'Because I've been married to your father for 29 years, and he's far more difficult to deal with than your relationship problems. This is child's play for me.' She laughs. My mom and dad are very in love, and I think part of the expectation I'd put on Harry and I was because I saw how perfect they are, and thought Harry and I have to be the same. But, we're Harry and Sophie, and not Kelli-Anne and Daivick, husband and wife of 29 years. 'Are we done here? Your mother really needs her beauty sleep. I imagine the cameras will be all over me tomorrow.' She jokes, but I'm not sure if she's actually joking.
'I think we're done.' I laugh. 'Thanks mom. For everything. I really needed this.' I say, pulling her in for another hug as she gets up from the bed. The dull ache is still there, but it's much duller than before. When I get back home, it'll be a fresh start. We'll talk everything through and I'll finally be able to get inside that beautiful mind of his and understand why he did what he did. Of course it's still upsetting, but part of loving someone is loving everything about them, and I started resenting parts of him that make him the Harry I love, instead of embracing it. I always thought he was the stubborn one, but maybe I was the stubborn one for being so set in the thinking we were falling apart instead of doing anything to fix it.
'Mother's duties.' She smiles, walking over to the door and pulling it open. Just before she leaves, she turns around again. 'So you'll send him that text and tell him you love him?' She asks.
'I will.' I laugh, and watch the door close with the laughter of my mother behind it.
AUTHORS NOTE:
100,000 reads! thankyou thankyou thankyou. i expected this story to get no reads, so this is a very surprising outcome. i love your comments and hearing what you have to say and writing this has become a great love of mine, so i hope you're enjoying this (currently tragic) love story as much as i love writing it. i can't say thankyou enough. all the love in the world xxx