dear harry, love olivia

epilogue

Harry Styles opened his front door to his townhouse and saw a small cardboard box on his doorstep. He hadn't ordered anything online in months since his girlfriend/soon to be fiancée told him he had an addiction. She wouldn't have sent anything to his house instead of her own, so he knew it wasn't hers.

He didn't immediately recognize the return address, so he turned back around to go into his kitchen and got a knife. Slicing the cardboard box open, he pulled out a card in a white envelope and an old, worn moleskin journal. Its pages had yellowed with age, and immediately he recognized that simple, feminine handwriting. Memories hit him like a truck, forcing him to lean against the counter and take a few deep breaths. Why would she be mailing him? They hadn't talked since she graduated.

He opened the card first.

Dear Harry,
I stopped at my mom's house this afternoon to pick up some old stuff. She died yesterday, but I honestly don't feel a thing. As I was digging through my old closet, I found this journal.

Harry, when we were in high school, I told myself I was going to kill myself in 10 days. I told myself I would write to you until I committed suicide, so you would always have a piece of me.

You saved my life. I'm sending you this, even if we haven't talked in 2 years, because you saved my life and I will never not be grateful that I knew you. If you ever find yourself questioning how good of a man you are, remember this. Remember I am alive because of you. Remember that you made one person feel like they mattered, and that is more than enough.

You were, are, and always will be the best thing that had ever happened to me. Thank you so much for seeing something in me that no one else did. Good luck.

Love, Olivia Wormwood

Harry read through the journal and cried. He had known what Olivia was trying to do all along; he wasn't stupid. He tried his hardest to help her and hearing her confirm it made his heart soar with a love he hadn't felt in the two years they hadn't been speaking.

With a new determination he hadn't felt in years, Harry rushed to his attic and pulled out the box labelled high school. He dug around that dusty, unopened box and pulled out exactly what he was looking for: a faded yellow spiral notebook. A smile graced his face as he saw the words "for olivia" sketched on the cover in a pencil.

He headed back downstairs and wrote down the return address from the original package.

Olivia Wormwood
812 Shell Dr
Myrtle Beach, South Carolina