Pen to Paper [N.H.]

10.4 - Inscription - Letter

Niall's POV

After Tokyo, we went to Sydney spent two days there then flew back home to London. We get home at night, exhausted and sleep-deprived so she's staying here for the night. Everything with Clo and me has been good and we're happy. Everything is just perfect. I'm watching her asleep in my arms, looking so peaceful. And in this moment, just before falling asleep, I feel happy to the purest degree.

I woke up the next day, around noon, the bed is cold on her side. She must've woken up early. I go to the sitting room hoping I'd see her there, but nothing. I check the kitchen. Nothing. I look through the house. She's nowhere to be found. I start worrying because she'd never leave without telling me. I get even more concerned when I walk into the closet to find all of her stuff gone and a letter resting on one of the shelves. I take it, walk back to the bed, sit up resting my back on the headboard. I hesitantly open it.

My Dear Niall

I'm writing you this letter because I don't have the guts to look at you as you hear what I have to say. I'm sorry for not being there when you wake up. But I'm tired. I've tried my best to stay strong, push through the pain, stay hopeful that the good days are here to stay. But I'm tired. I can't pretend I'm fine anymore. I'm not okay. I'm broken. I feel like my heartbeats have become dull, colours have faded into shades of black and white. I know that I love you. I know it's true. But I just don't feel it. Something inside just stopped working. And I can't in good conscience stay around you, pulling you down with me. I know it took a lot for you to get over everything and will yourself to become a better person. But you shouldn't be doing that for me, you should be doing that for yourself. And I need to do the same for me. I need to figure out how to get better. How to heal. And I have to do it by myself. I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for breaking up with you in a letter. You certainly deserve better. But I couldn't stand breaking your heart face to face.

I don't want you to wait for me. I don't want you to try to talk me out of this. Or look for me. Please don't look for me. Don't show up at Izz's. Don't text me. You're not gonna be able to find me anyway. I'm gonna go away for a while. I will be back someday though. I don't know how long it's gonna take. It could be months, years. Who knows. Please take care of yourself. I'm really sorry. I know this isn't fair. But I need to take care of me now. Before it's too late.

I hope you can forgive me for this. I hope you understand that I can't be with you. I wish I could end that last sentence with "right now" but truth is, I don't know that for sure. I know i'll be seeing you again. But I don't know who we'll be by then. But please don't wait to find out. Do move on. You deserve to be happy. And maybe that's not with me. 

I guess that's enough writing for now.

Hope you'll be okay. I'll keep an eye on you always.
Please do take care of yourself.

With all my love.
Chloé.

*Three years later*

I finished my show at the O2 in London, and am just getting out of the shower when I hear a knock on my dressing room door. I quickly dry myself and wrap the towel around my waist. And go open the door.

'Chloe? What are you doing here? I haven't seen you since...' I couldn't even get myself to finish that sentence.

'Since the end of our book tour.'

'Since you left me.'

'Yeah...'

'Come on in.'

'Are you sure? You seem in the middle of something.'

I let her in, grab a pair sweatpants, some underwear and a tank top from my suitcase and go back to the bathroom closing the door behind me to change. Once that is done, I come back into the room, she's sitting on the edge of the seat on the sofa, silent, having a staring contest with the floor.