Through The Dark || Harry Styles

39. LUCY

LUCY

Six Months Later

I still dream of him a lot.

Nothing dramatic or that interesting, just literally walking beside him or sitting with him on the couch; talking about work or Lola and telling him about my day.

When Jake died, I would dream of him in the same way, but now, my nights were filled only with Harry.

I still miss him, more than I want to admit out loud, but I have spent the last year of my life alone and trying to be the strong, independent person I know I can be.

And should be.

And I am.

It's cliche, and maybe a little naive, but I wanted to prove to myself that I didn't need anyone but myself. I don't need a man, or my mother or even Amy.

I needed myself to be better.

That's what I told myself during the daytime, anyway. At night my thoughts were reserved for him; his green eyes, his messy hair, his mouth and taste and touch.

I knew he had moved on. It wasn't hard to find out in today's social media minefield and even if I thought I was above it, some nights I couldn't help scrolling through endless photos of the picture-perfect Sarah Cavanah and wonder what they spoke about over dinner or what movies they were watching.

Do they play Scrabble?

What type of coffee do they drink in the morning?

Is she sleeping in the bed we picked out?

Does he love her?

Timing has never been our strong suit.

I am ashamed to admit that there are nights I cry myself to sleep, thinking that I made a huge mistake in letting him walk out the door, but by the morning, I convince myself all over again that I needed to.

I needed to find myself again, perhaps for the first time since my father died.

No Jake. No Amy. No Harry. Just Lucy.

I've spent the last year focusing on things that bring me happiness, rather than finding someone who can fix me. I've taken advanced cooking lessons and quit the job I hated. I've spent time playing with Lola and reconnecting with my mum.

I've opened really expensive bottles of French wine just to have one glass with dinner and watched every soppy rom-com ever made.

I've changed my name back to my family name, ridding myself of the guilt and the betrayal and the secrets that came with being tied to Jake Banks.

I've stayed up late and mixed my own blends of coffee and scribbled endless notes until the sun rose and I welcomed the new day with my favourite espresso.

I've joined the gym I always made excuses about and have actually started to enjoy being fit and active. I've taken meditation classes and attended seminars, read countless number of books on how it can help with anxiety and controlling panic attacks.

I've become happy with my own company and in turn, I worry a lot less.

But I miss him; so much that sometimes it physically hurts. And the next day, when the darkness fades, I beat myself up about how pathetic I am to need another person as much as I feel like I need Harry.

I thought this feeling would dissolve with time, but each day I push myself forward, the night brings me back to how it felt to sleep in his arms.

Will I ever stop dreaming of him?