It had been one week. One week since Harry had walked out of her house and her life, and not returned.

A week of crying into pizza, watching horribly bad romcoms and deleting social media apps from her phone to avoid it all. It was bad enough when people found out they were together when it was true—she didn't know if she could handle seeing the world talking about their blossoming romance when it had already been clipped of its wings.

She'd barely left the house in all that time, keeping to the routine of shower, eat, sleep, repeat each and every day. It wasn't easy though. Not when her entire house reminded her of him. It was like a Harry Styles shrine, the ghost of him lingering around everywhere. She'd opened her drawers one day to find one of his hoodies and had ashamedly been wearing it ever since. The toothbrush that was his sat unused in the holder, a depressing reminder of his missing presence every morning and night. And when she'd had her songs on shuffle one morning as she did some cleaning, careless whisper had come on and it had felt like someone had roundhouse kicked her straight in the head.

She wasn't ashamed to say she'd sat and cried for a good hour.

Zara had been as supportive as she could be once she'd told her, considering she was in a different country. Every morning, Wednesday had woken up to a message from her that gave her a task for the day, something to keep her occupied. On one day, the list had been as simple as: 'Go to the supermarket and buy two tubs of ice cream, one bag of Doritos, a bottle of wine and a pizza. Go home and eat it all whilst binge watching New Girl'. On another day, it had been more productive: 'Walk to your favourite café, treat yourself to a coffee and a cake and take the long scenic route back.'

Each day, that text was the one thing she'd looked forward to. The one thing that made her get out of bed and refuse to give in to the sadness. She'd felt that black hole of hopelessness at the start of the year, the complete desolation of loneliness. There wasn't a chance she'd come this far to return to square one again.

Harry hadn't messaged her, nor had she messaged him. It was like there was a piece of herself missing now that he wasn't around. Not in the same way as the all-consuming, heart wrenching grief she'd felt at her dad or nanna's passing. No, it was like she was missing a limb. And though she could carry on without it, it was like she was still adjusting to it. Getting used to the feeling of it not being there anymore.

Some people who've lost limbs say they can sometimes still feel like it's there. That they can feel the nerves, feel it's presence, even though it's clearly not a part of them anymore. It felt awfully similar to that. Even though he was gone, she swore sometimes she could still feel his kiss on her neck. In the middle of the night, if she tried hard enough, she could still hear his slow and steady breathes. Hear his quiet voice flowing through the air.

She wondered how he was doing. If he was the same as her, trying his best to keep going, keep being busy as a distraction. Being on tour would certainly help. When you're that busy, running from city to city, performing to thousands of people every night, it's easier to get lost in the craziness. Push the problems from your mind. She desperately hoped he was okay. More than anything in the world, she just wanted him to be happy. Even if that didn't involve her anymore.

Her mum had been texting her through the week, on and off. Little texts, asking if she was okay, what she was doing. On one day, Wednesday had built up enough strength to let her know that her and Harry were on a break, grateful when she didn't delve into it further. They'd both skirted around the argument they'd had during their last phone call, neither one of them ready just yet to say sorry. And even though she still felt that slither of annoyance, she was too tired to be petty. It wasn't worth it. So, to each text that came through, she replied and made a point of adding a kiss to the end of each one.

Life was too short.

As the week progressed, the day had finally come for her first session with Sade since the frenzied, emotional phone call they'd had the week before. She felt a bit embarrassed about seeing her after the craziness and vulnerability of that last conversation. Sade had heard something that only a handful of people had ever witnessed with Wednesday. And she wasn't sure if that somehow made it more reassuring or scarier.

Stepping out of the house, the sun warmed her skin instantly. It was the beginning of summer in London, and everything felt lighter. The air, the sky, the nights. Even with the heartache stirring in her chest, she still felt the happiness of the season. It was hard to stay sad when the sun was beaming, and the butterflies were dancing in front of the fluffy white clouds. She squinted as she looked up to the blue sky, taking a moment to let the freshness of the outside surround her.

Thirty minutes later, she was arriving at the building where the therapy clinic resided. She opened the doors, smiling down at the flame haired receptionist she'd become used to seeing on every visit. It didn't take long for Sade to appear in the doorway, smiling over at her and calling her in.

"So," Sade began once Wednesday had sat down onto the leather sofa. The one where she'd spilt all of her secrets and fears over the months. "First of all, how have you been since our phone call? Any more panic or anxiety attacks?"

"No, no more. I took your advice, stayed away from social media this week," she replied, forcing a smile.

"Do you think that has helped your mental state this week, choosing to do that?" Sade asked, opening her notebook and resting it on her leg.

Wednesday bit her lip. It was hard to know if it had had any significant effect on her mental wellbeing, since she'd spent most of it heartbroken over Harry. Though, she hadn't spiralled into any further pits of self-hatred since the week before. So, she guessed that was good?

"I think so, yeah?"

Sade looked over at her, a smile forming. "You don't sound too sure of that."

Wednesday cleared her throat, placing her hands under her legs.

"It's, um...it's hard to know if it's had any positive effect because...well, because I've spent the week getting to grips with the fact that me and Harry broke up."

The words felt weird to say out loud. She'd grasped the concept; she'd texted it to her friends. But it was the first time she'd said it out loud, and she wished she could take the words and cram them back into her mouth, because speaking them into existence felt like finally confirming it was real.

Sade's eyebrows rose, her lips parting slightly. For the first time, it was like she hadn't seen what Wednesday had said coming.

"You broke up?" she repeated.

Chewing on her lip, Wednesday nodded. "I, um...I told him. About everything. The core belief, the way I think about myself. Why I think the way I think about myself."

"And?" Sade pressed, waiting for her to continue.

"And I think we both agreed that maybe...maybe I'm not as ready for that relationship as I thought I was. He said that...that he didn't want me to get hurt any further by it all."

Wednesday looked down, the memory still raw and painful. She could vividly remember the image of him walking out of the door. Away from her and everything they were. She'd fallen to the floor and cried after, so overcome by his leaving.

"How do you feel about that? Do you agree?"

She swallowed, her eyes searching the floor. "I mean, it hurts like hell. But I think I need to work on myself. I thought I was strong before, strong enough for the scrutiny that comes with being with him. But...I think everything that happened proved I was far from that. I'm still far from being normal."

Sade considered her words thoughtfully before speaking again. "What does being normal mean to you?"

Wednesday looked at her with drawn together eyebrows, not expecting the question. She shrugged, thinking about it.

"It means not having an anxiety attack every time I see something negative about myself. Not wanting to sabotage any bit of happiness I get." She paused, laughing without humour. "Not having a panic attack and ringing my therapist to help me through it."

Sade didn't laugh at her joke. Instead, her eyebrows drew further together.

"So, are people who experience anxiety and panic attacks abnormal?" she asked.

Wednesday's brows dropped as she shook her head at the insinuation.

"No, no. Of course not! That's not what I meant."

"Okay. So, what did you mean?" Sade asked, a small smile on her lips.

"I meant..." she began, trying to articulate the point she was making and finding it increasingly hard to remember what her point even was. "I meant it personally, to me only."

"But if you don't think other people who experience symptoms of anxiety and panic attacks are abnormal, then why do you think that about yourself?"

She didn't have a response. What had felt like a passing comment was now being proven to be indicative of something deeper than surface level views.

"I don't know. I guess I'm harder on myself than other people," Wednesday concluded.

Sade nodded, sitting up further.

"When we label certain characteristics as normal, what we actually do is exclude a whole range of people from that definition and characterise them as not normal. If you can, I'd like you to stop thinking of 'normal' as something to achieve. Normal is subjective to the person—it doesn't mean a standard to reach. Normal is you in your entirety. It's the human experience in all its forms. Struggling with panic attacks or mental health does not make you less than. It just adds another dimension to you as a person. It adds to your own normality," Sade explained.

"Okay," Wednesday said, swallowing back her embarrassment. She felt like a school child that had been reprimanded in front of the class.

But maybe some of that embarrassment came from the realisation that Sade was right. She would never think anyone was abnormal for something that was just part of who they were, so it would be hypocritical of her to then label herself as abnormal for the exact same thing.

"But anyway, back to what we were discussing before. So, you said that you feel like you still need to work on yourself—in what ways?" Sade asked, looking back to her notebook.

"I guess—I guess in not letting negativity affect me as much as it does? Before everything happened, I thought that, naively, I was getting better at managing my belief. Not letting it dictate everything. But the effect those comments and articles had...it felt like I was a scared teenager all over again," Wednesday sighed.

Sade nodded, writing something down into her notebook.

"Is it safe to say you feel like you haven't made much progress in the past few months then?" she asked.

Wednesday bit her lip. "I know it's unrealistic of me to have expected that all of my problems would be solved by now. But..."

"A part of you expected they would be?" Sade finished the sentence with a raised eyebrow.

Wednesday nodded, shrugging tiredly. "Yeah, kind of. I thought...I don't know, I just thought I'd at the very least be capable of letting myself be happy."

Sade paused before speaking. "Do you remember when you first came to me, Wednesday?"

She nodded. How could she forget? That first session she'd been terrified to go to and that she'd ended up running out on halfway through. It was one of the memory's she wished she could erase.

"Yes. I was nervous as fu—sorry. Nervous as hell," Wednesday said, her cheeks tinging pink.

Sade breathed out a laugh, nodding at the memory. "Even the thought of opening up to someone made you panic. I think you lasted all of ten minutes in here before running away."

Wednesday cringed at the memory again.

"I want you to think about the woman who came here all those months ago. Think about the way in which you are different from her, the ways you have changed over the course of our sessions," Sade said, sitting back and waiting for her to think it over.

The sessions ran through Wednesday's mind like a picture reel, highlighting everything they'd spoken about in the time they'd shared. All of the work they'd done regarding her core belief, her behaviours.

"Now tell me those changes," Sade asked.

Wednesday looked at her, biting her cheek in thought. "Well, I...I find it easier to open up to people. To let them know when I'm sad or not feeling good."

"Mhm," Sade hummed, a slight smile on her face.

"I have a better understanding of how my mind works and how my core belief operates. Which means that I'm also more aware now when it starts to negatively affect me," she said, looking to Sade once again for approval.

She nodded, the smile still on her lips, and it only urged Wednesday on.

"I—I've started letting myself cry in front of people who care about me. It's still hard and makes me feel really uncomfortable, but I'm trying to get better at just letting the tears out instead of hiding them away."

She cleared her throat, furrowing her brows as she tried to think about something else.

"And I guess...I guess I'm happier overall. When I stopped trying to chase happiness as constant state and started appreciating what I already had, everything improved."

Despite the heartbreak. Despite the pain. She was still moving, still living. She hadn't fallen into a hole of despondency that she didn't know how to crawl out of, feeling so desperately sunken that it felt like she'd never feel joy again. For every day of the past week, a previous version of her would have wallowed in bed. Slept so she wouldn't have to feel the pain. So she wouldn't have to feel anything.

But Wednesday had been acknowledging the pain, accepting it, letting it exist inside of her unbothered. It reminded her that she was human and what she'd felt was real. And that in itself was something to be grateful for. From the darkness was light.

"Now after all of those changes...do you still think that you haven't made progress? Haven't become more capable of managing your own emotions and beliefs?" Sade asked.

A slightly shocked smile came up onto Wednesday's lips as she thought about it. "When you lay it all out like that, yeah. I guess I have made progress. A lot of it."

Sade smiled warmly.

"You can't see an entire painting when you're stood up close to it. Sometimes, you need to take a step back to take it all in," she said. "You did forget one thing from that list though, one thing that you've done because of the progress you've made."

"What?" Wednesday asked, brows drawn together in confusion.

"You identified a situation that was taking a toll on your mental health and instead of allowing it to continue, chose the option that you felt was best for you. Even knowing it would cause you a lot of pain," Sade said, smiling proudly at her. "That was something you did completely on your terms."

Wednesday smiled weakly at her, feeling her hands numbing under her thighs. When she put it like that, it sounded a lot better than it had felt. But when it came to it, that was what had happened. She'd prioritised her mental health, even at the expense of her own heart. She could have stopped Harry, told him that they didn't need to end things, that she was ready to be with him regardless. But she didn't, because she knew that wasn't the truth. Sometimes, the best decisions for us are the hardest ones.

"Do you think I made the right decision? Letting him go?" she asked her wearily.

"That's not for me to answer Wednesday. I can't tell you how to live your life. That's something only you can decide. What I'm here to do is provide you with the knowledge on how to feel capable and strong enough to handle those decisions yourself. And from what we've just discussed, it seems like it's working," Sade said, smiling reassuringly.

Wednesday nodded, understanding that she was right. It couldn't be anyone's decision but hers. And although she knew she loved Harry and wished she could be with him, she needed to sort her own shit out first.

When she stepped out of the clinic after the end of their session a while later, Wednesday sighed as she looked around the sunny street. For the first time all week, she didn't want to go straight back home and get back into her pyjama's. Instead of walking towards the tube station, she walked the opposite way, further into the inner city where everything was bustling.

She didn't have a plan. Instead, she let her legs guide her. And she walked for a while; through the busy streets, over the bridge onto the south embankment. She'd moved to the city so long ago now, she forgot just how in awe of it she could really be. Eventually she came to one of her favourite cafés in Southwark, and with a hesitant glance in, she was guided to a seat.

Breathing slowly, she could feel her own nerves at just being outside, let alone inside somewhere that was busy and full of people chatting and gossiping. It was always in the back of her mind, the possibility that someone might know who she was. Recognise her as the girl from Harry's band or worse now—the girl he was pictured kissing. But as she pulled her book from her bag, she tried to not dwell on the fear. It didn't bode well for her when she allowed her anxieties to manifest into something bigger.

She ordered her food and drink and was in the process of stirring her iced latte with one hand and reading her book with the other, when her phone began to ring. And for that split second her screen was turned downwards, her entire body tensed.

What if it was Harry?

Nervously, she picked it up and released the breath she'd been holding when she saw it was her mum. Pressing accept, she lifted the phone to her ear.

"Mum, hi. Is...is everything okay?" she asked apprehensively, knowing that this was the first time they'd spoken over the phone since their argument the week before.

"Yes love, I'm fine. I—well, I just wanted to say sorry. For how I reacted last week to everything. It wasn't fair to you, I know that. I was just scared and hurt, and I took it out on you, so I'm sorry."

Wednesday sat back against the chair, her face softening.

"I'm sorry too, for not telling you. I really didn't mean anything by it. I just wanted to make sure it was something worth telling you about—something serious."

It felt bitter now, talking about the relationship that had never even made it off of the ground. They hadn't even been in an official relationship. She'd never been his girlfriend and he'd never been her boyfriend. What did she refer to him as now? Her ex? Her best friend that she used to fuck? A boy who would forever have her heart? At least in her breakup with Patrick, she'd known where she stood. He was her ex, plain and simple. But with Harry...it was like the lack of labels meant that now, it was like they'd never been anything at all. A pattern drawn in the sand that had been washed away by the new tide.

"What's..." her mum said softly, like she was figuratively walking on eggshells. "What's happening between you and Harry dear?"

Wednesday sighed, looking around to the preoccupied customers.

"I think...I think it's over," she said, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

"But why Ness?" her mum asked sadly down the receiver.