Until you came (Zarry) /English Version

61. The past is always catching you up

Harry

Early in the morning I leave the pub and take a taxi home. For a short moment I thought about staying in a hotel, but that would be nonsense. After all, this house is as much mine as it is hers and all my stuff is still there. I can't escape from Taylor, but have to face the fact that she now knows everything about Zayn and me. We need to talk.

With a bad feeling I entered the hallway and listened. The house is completely in the dark and I walk into the living room relieved. The coast is clear. Pretty exhausted I flop on the sofa, when someone turns the light on.

Shocked, I screw my eyes up, which had already adjusted to the darkness.

"Ah, my husband is finally home." says a voice from the armchair standing next to the bright floor lamp.

My wife is huddled up on the armchair and must have been waiting for me all night. What should I say to her?

"Where have you been?" she moans and rubs her tired eyes.

"I was out, Taylor," I answer succinctly and fear the scene she's about to make.

"Aha, where exactly ?"

"Taylor, what's this questioning about? Why do you stay up all night waiting for me?"

Somehow I feel terribly sorry for her. Her hair hangs tousled over her shoulders, her eyes are swollen from crying and I see the empty wine bottle standing next to the armchair.

"Harry, you're not getting away with this. After all, we're still married. You can't do what you want," she nagged in my direction, her fists clenched.

I clearly hear the desperation in her voice and can only guess what she is alluding to. But what sense does that make? We've both known that the marriage has been over for a long time. I love Zayn. Even if I wanted to, it wouldn't work anymore. All I want and need is my painter.

"Taylor.", I say gently. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"You have nerves! Do you think I can still sleep after this? Who do you think you are? You are cheating on me shamelessly for weeks with ....with this selfish jerk and now expect me to sleep like an angel?"

She rises from the comfy armchair and stumbles towards me. Before I know it, she is lying in my arms trying to kiss me greedily. I smell the alcohol on her breath. I don't want her to kiss me. This kiss means nothing to me - but it means a lot to her. So I try to keep her at a distance.

"Please don't do that," I stammer and I'm backing away from her touch. "Please, Taylor, don't make it worse."

My wife ignores my reluctance and grabs my face and hair with her hands. Again and again she presses her lips on mine, tries to push her tongue in my mouth. It's a pathetic attempt to get love that I can't give her anymore.

"Taylor, I'm begging you. Don't let yourself go. Please." Her despair tears my heart apart. I don't want to see her so helpless.