I stare at the emotions running across his face

I stare at the emotions running across his face

I admit to him that it isnt possible for me to share intimacy with anyone other than him, as I have many times before

I was so excited that he was finally speaking to me – drunk or not – that I proceeded to feed him soup to ache his inevitable hangover. And after he returned to his more distant self the next morning, I placed more thought into the concept of sharing him. The idea that I would let him live out his multi-woman phase before he could eventually return to who he was, and who he loved.

That he could freely do as he pleased, and then in our spare time together we could rebuild our relationship that had crumbled with our backs turned

I figured that allowing him to be free for while would make him realize that other women didnt stand in the way of what we had.

“We can both sleep with other people.” I choke out. His beautiful, horrible face that I was so irrevocably, messily in love with. The face that belonged to the man I would do anything for.

“Thats what you want, right?” Some people would say that I was insane for agreeing to this, or even suggesting it to begin with. But it was Harry. My husband that I had poured myself into, that held more of myself than I did.

It was so incredibly painful that I would rather hang onto some of him desperately than to give up on him completely.

He holds expensive shopping bags. The glossy, black colors contrasting with his pale skin littered with tattoos. He leans in to give me a quick kiss on my forehead before dropping them on the floor. I sit in a messy bun and a large t-shirt that smells like him.

I wrap my arms around his torso, burying my face into his shirt and inhaling the scent. He proceeds to grab my waist, rubbing his thumb over the large t-shirt I wear.

“Be ready to go somewhere in an hour, I have so much planned for today.” He mutters. I loosen my arms to lean back and smile up at him, “Does that mean I get you all to myself today?” I ask hopefully.

“Of course. You get me everyday, always.” He replies. Although im sure he means that were bound together by the simple silver rings on our fingers, I know that hes not always mine to love. Im aware that more often than not he leaves home with me to seek temporary residence with someone else.

“Y/n, regardless of what we…do in this relationship, you still always come first to me. Youre my wife, youre the love of my life and I married you for a reason. This is just whats for best for us at the moment, you know im always yours when you need me.”

I hold onto his words that imply this agreement has a possibility of being temporary. My birthday is turning out to be better than expected so far. And although every time I inhale him I smell less of him and more of other women, I push my thoughts to the back of my mind and place my focus on our potential.

I smile at the words he states, my hands wrapped around his waist lowering towards the buckle on his belt.

He smirks, leaning in towards me so that I can feel the whisper of his breath dance across my breath. I cant help but think about how I might not have been the most recent girl to unbuckle his belt, to useful content admire him from this close.

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