FOREVER [Niall Horan] ✔

Chapter 33.

"Love will come and when love comes, love will hold you, love will call your name and you will melt, sometimes though, love will hurt you but love will never mean to, love will play no games cause love knows life has been hard enough already."

Ana's POV

I never wanted to hide our relationship with my parents but somewhere in my head, I knew that I had to. I didn't want my parents to know that I've already moved on with some other guy, I didn't want to disappoint my parents.

I am not ashamed of Niall. In fact, I like him so much and I'm so proud of him that I'd gladly flaunt him everywhere I go but my dad wouldn't like it, not after the whole ordeal that happened a couple of months ago.

I realised later that what I said had hurt him real bad. I didn't mean to hurt him at all. I didn't know it'll affect him this way but now when I look back, I realise that it would've hurt me too if Niall introduced me to his parents as a friend. It was selfish of me to only think about myself and not about his.

Niall looked hurt and disappointed in me. His eyes held a hint of anger in them but I don't blame him, I blame myself for being a complete nincompoop and hiding the truth from my parents. I blame myself for Niall being angry at me. And I blame myself for everything that is about to come.

I slowly walk back to my apartment with regret lacing my thoughts. I blink back the tears that are threatening to fall and quietly step inside my house. My mom gives me a bright, wide smile, unknown to how I feel, and I return her a small, forced one, while my dad just eyes my every movement. I don't think he's still convinced that Niall's just my friend and truth be told, I don't even want to convince him anymore.

"How are you, Ana?" My mom asks as I take a seat on the couch. "It's been two months." I see my mom's smile fade a little and her eyes become glossy, like mine.

"I'm sorry," I apologize and feel a tear run down my cheeks but I don't know if it is because of what happened two months ago or just two minutes ago. "I-I had to. I couldn't stay. I couldn't live with him. And I'm sorry dad-" I turn to look at him. "For disappointing you." My dad motions to me and I walk to him before he envelopes me in a tight hug. His hands stay on my back as he tells me how sorry they are for forcing me to marry someone I didn't love and tells me that everything is going to be okay. "Thank you, dad," I say and part away.

He asks me about my work and how am I liking London and I reply, telling him how wonderful everything is. We talk about everything back in Wolverhampton and how stressful it was for them after I ran away. I apologise for being selfish and running away but my mom just shakes it off telling me that she's happy as long as I am. I'm happy that neither of them asks me about my baby, I really cannot go through all of this together.

My dad brings up the topic of Tyler. Even though I know we will have to have this talk sooner or later. I am still embarrassed to tell my parents about how he treated me. I know it's hard to open up to my parents about everything he did but I also know that this is the best time for me to make things clear and keep everything out on the table.

"Why didn't you tell us about Tyler earlier?" My dad inquires.

"He-He threatened me," I sniffle and look down at my hands that rest upon my lap. My dad takes my hand in his and I, automatically, look up at him.

"Sorry, baby, I wasn't the best father," He softly says and I feel myself tearing up again. He draws small circles on the back of my hand, in a comforting way, and I instantly feel safe.

"It was not your fault, dad," I reason. It was not my dad's fault that he didn't see the real Tyler. I didn't myself for the starting couple of months. He was just what every girl wanted. He was handsome. He was caring. He was charming. And he said he loved me. For me, then, it was the only thing that mattered, that he loved me. I wouldn't mind a few bruises if it meant that I'll be able to live with the person I loved. I wouldn't mind cleaning up his messes, if it meant the I'll be able to wake up in his arms in the morning. But when it started to get worse, I knew that he didn't love me and later I realised that I didn't either. What I felt for him was just what I can describe as a stupid and unjustifiable mistake. It was not love, it was just me trying to get my first boyfriend to accept me.