Harrys a Politician, and Y/Ns a Baker who just happens to support him

The frames she uses to place her completed works in have gathered dust in the same corner they were in before Harry left. Her artwork scatters, hung up in different pins, but all incomplete.

Harry is so immersed in the similar color patterns of her recent works that he doesnt notice her walk up the stairs and she surprisingly appears behind him.

“Why?” He asks as he turns his head to look at her. She stares at a sketch in the corner of her art room, a redepiction of their wedding photo done by her.

She looks down at her plastic fingernails. The ones she wasted money on so that she could be just a little bit more desirable, so that she could keep her husband from leaving her again, and she feels ashamed. Shes overwhelmed with so many emotions that she cant help but let out a loud sob as she collapses onto her knees and shoves her face into her clean hands.

“Gee Harry, what could possibly be wrong?” She replies, all of a sudden feeling a surge of rage hit her. “For starters, we havent talked in weeks.”

She fears that if she allows herself to be angry at him, he may find comfort in someone else again. Shes torn between wanting him, and knowing that having him could potentially destroy her just as badly.

In the picture, she stares in awe as Harry grabs her hands, stained with different shades of blue from her oil pastels, and admires the wedding band on her finger

“We” She removes a hair thats stuck to her tear stricken face, “We shouldnt have gotten married.” She cries, sitting down properly and pulling her knees into her chest as he kneels in front of her.

“We shouldnt have agreed to make a commitment for the rest of our lives when you couldnt even commit for a year, Harry” She shakes her head.

He doesnt cry, and although from the outside he may look less broken than her, guilt and panic and inner turmoil eats at him from the inside out.

“I love you.” He grabs her left hand, kissing the weirdly soft skin where her ring finger meets her wedding ring.

“Stop avoiding the problem Harry!” She snatches her hand from his grasp, her sharp nails probably scratching his hands in the process.

Her head is in inner turmoil as she weighs her options

“Youre driving me insane. Absolutely insane! You told me that dating models was just a facade placed on you by the media, you told me you loved me, and then you replaced me with her the second I wasnt there.”

“I tried to-” She coughs from her own tears, “I tried to change for you, Harry. I bought this stupid fucking perfume, and I did my nails like she did, and I went to the gym and I fixed myself because I thought this was my fault.” Y/n looks down at her hands, feeling how different they were from before the tour started, when she was content with Harry.

Harry stares at her intently, his eyes finally welling up in tears. He wonders if he should hold her, or get on his knees and beg for her forgiveness. Hes never been more heartbroken in his life than he is in this moment, he thinks.

Of all of the different things marriage could possibly mean, they never thought theirs would be the one that meant failure.

It wasnt just the fact that he had dashingly good looks, green eyes being able to pierce through metal with a tall stature and a jawline that could cut diamonds, or the fact that hed graduated from Oxford at the top of his class.