Regal [h.s]

Chapter Eighteen

"Her love is the reason I'm here"

♔ ♔ ♔

Talks of body shaming/body image. And mental health topics.

Merry Christmas my loves <3
Ps. Sorry for the pain :(

Amalia

My mind hasn't stopped wondering since Harry practically pushed me inside of the car and we drove in silence back to Westwell Cottage. The only noise was Cosy's little babbles or her small attempts at singing a nursery rhyme.

Harry was silent. And he wouldn't let up. He wouldn't tell me what was going on and I didn't even have my phone to hand. I couldn't look for myself but I knew it was bad. It was awful. Just by the way he was reacting, I knew it wasn't good news.

My stomach practically dropped when he said we were to meet with Estelle, my communications team, and Taya, my personal advisor. That meant it was more than just a little problem. It was more than a few rude comments online.

They wanted war.

"Harry I'm nervous" I'm honest with him, showing him a side to me that I wish I could keep hidden. I wish I could keep it under wraps and smile like it's my duty to do so.

But this has been taken too far to just smile and carry on with life as if I haven't been attacked by the public.

"I am too" he admits with a shaky breath. He's quick to unbuckle Cosy from her car seat, her read lulling against his shoulder whilst she fights sleep. He's using her as a distraction and a safety net. If Cosy is in his arms then he doesn't have to think about pressing issues or get involved in conversation that makes us both anxious.

"It's bad" I declare, not knowing truly how bad it was, but I'm able to sense it. My heart is basically beating out of my chest at the unknown. I have no idea what has been said or the violence that might have been used. I don't know what's awaiting me.

My first thought is that they've shamed my parenting. They've seen Cosy cause a scene, they've seen her have a slight meltdown which is completely normal for toddlers, but they've used it against me. They've seen a tiny snapshot of my life and decided to make a judgment towards me.

They don't know me, they don't see how I give the moon and the stars to Cosy, they don't see me playing dolls and running around the garden in wellies trying to catch bugs with her. They don't see the wholesome moments. They don't see me playing house. They just saw Cosy crying and immediately slammed a big red cross on my face.