Through The Dark

It's the sequel to My Bully. If you have not read My Bully, please do so before you begin this one!!! Thanks :)

-M xx


29. Changed

I laid on my back staring up at the ceiling, sniffling. My tears had finally ran out two hours after Harry kicked Sophia and just about everybody else out. The twins were with Niall and Ashley so it was just me and Harry at the house. Harry was laying on his side beside me, fiddling with my hair. He’s gotten into the habit of doing that often now.


    “You feel better?” He asked, brushing my hair away from my face.


    “She’s right, you know. If I would have just heard you out, none of this would have happened.” I sniffled, coughing. I winced but restrained from rubbing my side.


    “No, no she’s not right. She had no right to say that to you. None at all. She’s wrong. Baby, I’m sorry. I should have told you instead of letting you find out that way. I’m sorry, Nichole.” Harry rasped, his green eyes bright with unshed tears as he leaned down and placed a lingering kiss on my stomach.


    “I saw her. I saw her, Harry. Diana, that’s what I was going to name her.” I admitted, playing with the curls on the back of his neck as he looked up at me.


    “What did she look like?” He asked softly, laying back at my side and started playing with my hair again.


    “She looked a lot like you. She had the same messy brown curls and dimples. She had my eyes though, dark brown. Her face was a little rounder than Darcy’s but she was beautiful, Harry. She was gorgeous.” I said, my voice raw from crying.


    “She would have had to be beautiful coming from you.” Harry mummered, kissing my forehead.


    “She wanted to meet you. You and the twins. She cried over it because she knew she couldn’t.” I replied, ignoring the compliment as I confessed our conversation.


    Harry’s eyes were searching my face when I was done, wiping away the fresh tears that rolled down the side of my face. He kissed my forehead and held me close and I cried a little more, my arms wrapping around my empty stomach. It’s your fault, a voice whispered in my head, it’s all your fault.





    Harry’s POV.


    The next few weeks were almost unbearable. I had to be gone most of the time because of the tour but I flew home every chance I got to be with my family. Nichole was okay but it was obvious when she was in her own little world. She tried to be happy around me but I could tell something about her changed. She’s different. She became quiet and more observing. She just wasn’t acting like herself. I think she’s even started to drinking though I can never catch her in the act of taking one sip of alcohol. She always smells like that sweet perfume she loves so much.


    Part of me blamed Sophia for Nichole’s changes. That stupid bitch threw Diana up in Nichole’s face and Nichole hasn’t been the same since. She doesn’t talk about anything that involves wrecks or new babies and, to be honest, I don’t blame her. She mourns for Diana though she tries to hide it. I can tell she blames herself and it kills me inside. It wasn’t her own fault.


    The other part blames myself. If I had just answered her calls and told her about Kendall, we would never had gotten into this mess. Nichole would be glowing with a new baby bump and I would be the proud father of three. Instead, I’m the idiot who only cared about himself and that caused me to hurt my family. They don’t know it, but I took away Dylan and Darcy’s sister. I took away Nichole’s child, my child, our next child. 


    She became more protective over Dylan and Darcy, not letting them leave her sight. The first few days were the worst. She wouldn’t let Darcy or Dylan near a vehicle, even if it was turned off and in park. I had to basically get Niall and Ashley to come kidnap the kids so Nichole could take some time off. Yeah, I got cussed out but she apologized and thanked me afterwards. Her rib was healing slowly, thanks to everybody not letting her bend over or lift anything heavy. 


    Four months flew by and I finally got to come home and stay home. People kept asking me about Kendall Jenner but I ignored them, telling them that me and her wasn’t a couple. Kendall wasn’t helping the situation, telling people with big names that she hopes to come visit me soon. I ignore all her texts and calls, sending a rather rude message to management for giving her my number.


    It’s almost been a year since I’ve asked Nichole to marry me and we have gotten no where with the wedding planning. I don’t know how to bring it up without making her think that I’m upset with her about it. She’s had a rough year and I don’t want to upset her. She hasn’t brought it up and it’s starting to scare me. Does she still want to be Mrs. Styles? Is she rethinking her decision to be with me for the rest of her life? 


    I mean, my own fiancé barely lets me touch her. It’s like she’s scared of me. It breaks my heart to wake up at night and hear her crying. I wake her up every time and hold her until she goes back to sleep. She cries in her sleep over Diana, the little girl that she automatically connected with. The daughter I will never have the pleasure of meeting. It’s all my fault. 


    I keep telling myself that maybe Nichole and I need to see a professional, to help us with our loss. That maybe somebody will have advice for me to help Nichole move on. I’ve talked to mum about it and she agrees with me, saying that there’s no other way but up from here. I made and appointment I just need to find a way to break the news to Nichole. I hope she’s not to incredibly mad at me.


    I sigh and rub my hands over my face, bracing my palms on the counter of the bathroom sink as I look in the mirror at my reflection.


    “You can do this, Styles. Grow some balls and tell her already.” I mutter to myself, before shaking my head, rustling my hair. Why does this have to be so hard?


    “Babe, I need to get in there.” Nichole called through the door, her tone sounding a little aggravated. 


    “Alright, just a sec.” I call out to her, looking one last time in the mirror.


    Now is the time, Styles, don’t fuck up. Don’t fuc up, don’t fuck up...


    I open the door to reveal my beautiful girlfriend holding a towel. She raised her eyebrows at me as I just stood in the doorway, my mouth slightly open. I struggled with the words but I finally choked them out.


    “I made us an appointment.” I said, sighing in relief. There, I said it. 


    “For what?” She asked, shifting her feet. I’ve come to notice that she does that when she’s nervous or unsure of something.


    “For a couple therapy thing. To help us out with the... the....” I confess, struggling for the right words.


    “The death of Diana.” Nichole says easily, making my jaw drop. 


    I have to admit, I’m surprised she’s not crying or throwing things at me.


    “Uh, yeah. With that.” I say, completely shocked. She sounded almost has if she didn’t care.


    “When is it?” She asked, looking up at me.


    “Around one tomorrow.” I say, watching her closely. She seemed perfectly fine, not one tear in her eye. Has she managed to move on?


    “Okay, I’ll be ready to go by then. Can I go take a shower?” She asks, pointing behind me.


    “Can I get one with you? You know, save water and all.” I say cheekily, grinning at her. 


    “Didn’t you take a shower about an hour ago?” She asked, looking confused. Damn it.


    “Uh, yeah. I guess I did.” I say, getting the hint. 


    She didn’t want me to get in with her. I sigh and take the rejection quietly, heading towards the living room. The twins were already in bed and asleep, leaving just me and Nichole up. Ashley moved back in with Niall so we had the house to ourselves.  I plop down on the couch and flip on the telly, silently praying that the therapy session would go well tomorrow.

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