The state I'm in COMPLETED

Harry

HPOV

Just thinking about Valerie puts a smile on my face. She is, without a doubt, the kindest person I have ever met. From the first moment I saw her at the club that night—what feels like a lifetime ago—I knew she was different. Special. And I know I sound cliché, but love does that to you.

She captivated me. Not just with her beauty, though that was undeniable. That angelic face, those hypnotic jade eyes, and curves that could bring any man to his knees. But that wasn't what got me. Valerie saw right through me. She sensed the weight I carried before I even spoke. She pulled me onto the dance floor that night, not because she wanted to seduce me, but because she didn't want me to feel left out. She was radiant without even trying, breathtaking without even knowing it. And nothing was more irresistible than that.

I didn't think someone like her could love someone like me. But she did. And not just me—Antony, too. She never saw my son as a complication. She welcomed him, loved him, made space for him in her heart without hesitation. And that? That meant more to me than she will ever know.

God, I miss her. I miss everything. The way she tucked her body against mine when we slept. The way she traced her fingers through my hair and tied it into a bun. The way her eyes would light up when she got my tea just right, like it was some great accomplishment. I miss the laughter, the teasing, the way she would fight back but always surrender after five seconds of tickling. I miss reading in bed while she did her assignments, her head resting on my chest, her scent wrapping around me like home.

But love that strong? It's doomed from the start.

The second I saw her lying in that hospital bed, pale, unmoving, a bandage wrapped around her head like a cruel joke—I knew. I knew the lengths they would go to. I knew the damage they were capable of. And for what? To scare her away? To make me miserable? To punish me for not wanting a life I never chose?

They were right about one thing. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve to be their punching bag just because I made mistakes before I ever met her. And no matter how much I hated to admit it, Leo was right.

When he told me to walk away, I wanted to kill him. I wanted to shut him up, make him bleed, make him hurt just as much as I was hurting. But he wasn't wrong. He loved her too. Maybe not the way I did, maybe not with the fire and chaos that consumed me, but with something steady. Something simple. Something safe.

That's why I had to let her go.

It wasn't enough to tell her it wasn't fair to her. She wouldn't have listened. She didn't care what they were capable of—she only cared about us. But when I told her it wasn't fair to me? That broke her. I saw the moment her heart snapped in two, and she finally let go.

I walked away that night, but I didn't stop loving her.

I couldn't.

I told myself I wouldn't see her again, but I still found myself trailing behind her—watching her from a distance, making sure she was safe. I told myself I wouldn't call, but I still asked Rose every single day how she was doing. I told myself I wanted her to move on, but when I saw her with Niall, laughing, smiling, handing over her number—I lost it.

That's why I told Niall she was my girlfriend. It wasn't true. I knew it wasn't true. But I wanted to make damn sure he didn't think he had a chance. Because the thought of another man touching her, kissing her, making her laugh the way I used to? It made me want to rip my own fucking heart out.

She confronted me about it later, furious, and I deserved every ounce of her anger. But I wasn't thinking straight. I couldn't. I saw her flirting with Dan at the bar, saw her drinking and smoking—Valerie smoking—and I completely snapped.

And so, I did the only thing I could think of to hurt her back. I grabbed the first girl who had been eyeing me all night, pulled her close, kissed her like I didn't care who was watching. And the moment I did it, I regretted it.

But it was too late.

I saw the way Valerie looked at me. She didn't cry. She didn't scream. She just... shut down. And that was worse than anything. That was the moment I knew—I had lost her for good.

I thought maybe, just maybe, she would still fight for me. That she would hate me enough to come running, cursing my name, demanding answers. But she didn't. When I reached for my wallet at the end of the night, Pete stopped me. Told me our drinks had already been paid for.

By her.

Even after what I did, even after she watched me betray everything we had, she still took care of me. Because that's who she is. That's who she has always been. And I? I'm a fucking fool.

Then today, I saw her with Leo. Carefree. Smiling. Like I never existed.

And I hated it. I hated every second of it. Not because I want her to be miserable, not because I don't want her to heal, but because I want to be the one who makes her smile like that.

And I can't.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

So what do I do? Do I let her go for good? Do I stand by and watch as someone else takes my place? Or do I keep lurking, waiting, hoping that when the time is right, she will still be mine?

I don't have the answers. All I know is this—she is inked onto my skin, carved into my soul.

And no matter how long it takes, no matter how far she runs, she will always be mine.

Even if I have to wait a lifetime to have her again.