Epilogue 

* 

Dear Charlotte,

I'm uncertain about quite a few things.

For instance,

I'm not sure if you'll ever even be given the chance to read this letter, seeing as Louis tends to be rather forgetful.

I'm not sure if you'll even reply.

Heck, Charlotte, I don't even know why I'm writing this.

I guess it's not only a way to reassure you, but to reassure myself.

I'm taking it that you know I broke the engagement. But this time, Charlotte, it feels different. The last time my engagement went down the drain, it took me along with it. I became this person that I never wanted to be.

Possessive, ruling, and in short, rather bitchy.

This time, I feel okay. And maybe that doesn't sound like the best feeling in the world, but right now, I'll settle for it.

Do you remember when you said to me that Louis belonged to me? That we were meant to be together?

I hate to break it to you, Charlotte, but that wasn't entirely true.

You see, maybe we did care for each other, but never in the way that you two do for one another. It's weird, really, seeing this entire thing play out. I've never seen someone adore anyone else as much as Louis adores you. You're special to him, so don't ever think that this is me "giving" Louis to you. He was yours to begin with, it just took some of us too long to realize it. 

You've sacrificed so much to make him happy, thinking that it was alright to hurt your own self in the process, when in reality, the only way it ever made sense was when it was Charlotte and Louis. 

Lou and Char.

I don't exactly know where I'm going with this. I guess I just want to make sure you know that from now on, things for you are going to be better than you may have thought. You'll have your happiness, Charlotte, I can promise you that. 

And maybe one day, I will, too. Maybe one day I'll find my actual Louis. I just have to wait. 

And when I get tired of waiting (because it's bound to happen, right?), I'll remind myself of a certain love story. I'll think back to just how long the girl waited and what she got in return for being selfless and patient. 

Oh, and one more thing:

Stop looking out for others, would you? Now it's your turn. Do things that make you happy. Life your own life, because it's too short not to. And most importantly of all:

Forget the past. As weird as this sounds, forget about me. This is your's and Louis' story now, so sit back and enjoy. Because, Charlotte, it's going to be one heck of a love story.

                   ~ Eleanor Calder

*Charlotte's POV*

(Six Years Later)

It was on the cold, impelling night of Christmas Eve that I found myself alone in bed, with nothing to accompany me but the presence of the howling wind and the darkness that subdued my room. Although it left an eerie feeling in the pit of my stomach, I had grown sort of accustomed to waking up without Louis by my side. He was busy with the band and I understood that real well, mainly because of that fact that he did anything to make time for Oliver and I. 

However, even that didn't stop the insomnia. These days, nothing did. Louis had been gone for three months now, on the band's biggest tour ever. Words couldn't exactly describe how proud I was of him and of the rest of the band, and I didn't even have a problem with him being on another side of the world for so long. Years ago, I had given him not only my heart, but my trust along with it. I knew he wouldn't ever betray me. What I did have a problem with was him being away from home. 

I had a problem with being limited to only texts and calls and video chats--they could only go so far. I had a problem with waking up in the middle of the night, like I did right then, and staring at the decorative illuminating stars plastered across the ceiling (at Louis' childish request, of course) in hopes that somehow he'd appear by my side. 

I tossed and turned in bed, but nothing could put me back to sleep. The only repetitive thoughts being ones of Louis and the fact that we hadn't talked in nearly a week. I knew the band was busy, but Louis would always find time to whip up a sweet and short text message. These days, even that was missing. 

Every day for the past six years was spent in wondering how things worked out for the two of us. Here we were, married for five years now and with a four-year old son. It was one of those things that only seemed impossible to me every time before, but now, I was living the very same scenario.

I was with Louis.

He had professed his love for me and asked me to marry him and the ring worn on my left hand was proof that all of this had happened. 

And as if the ring wasn't enough, little Oliver was all the proof anyone could ask for. Maybe it was foolish or imprudent for me to question all of the happiness being granted to me so generously, but the only possible way to understand why I did it was to understand what I had been through.

After being reminded of the twisted perils that life wished upon me everytime I tried to take a step forwards into my future, there was little hope left. I didn't flee to New York City with full ambitions to be with Louis; no, it was quite the opposite. With very little hope, a heavy heart, and little to no faith, I dragged myself halfway across the world. What I never anticipated was for things to turn out exactly the way I had always wished. 

And these thoughts were the reason for the small smile that tugged on my lips. Even in the middle of the night, I lay in the darkness with a smile on my lips, even though I knew that I should have been acquiring some rest for the busy day ahead. But all of these thoughts soon fled my mind when I heard the door to my room creak open.

I didn't have to lift my head nor did I need to turn on the light to know who it was.

"Mommy?"

At the sound of the small and shaky voice, I threw aside my blanket and lifted my head. Oliver usually slept in Louis' spot when he was away on tour, but just last night, he claimed to be a "big boy" and wanted to sleep in his own bedroom. I was majorly skeptical of this revelation, but of course, refused to argue. 

And now he stood in my doorway, as a small shadow outlined by the dim lighting in the hall, accompanied by the silhouette of a small teddy bear that was hanging off of his folded arm. He stared down at his feet, which were shuffling nervously. 

I reached over the side of my bed and flipped the light switch on, the sudden variation in brightness making my eyes sting. 

Just like every other time I was confronted by the sweet boy, my heart warmed with adoration. His curly brown hair was no doubt a trait he had inherited from me, but the impeccable blue eyes that pierced even through a room that was home to only darkness were his father's. 

"Yes, baby?" I cooed, already aware of his desires. Oliver sighed, his eyebrows knitting adorably with worry. The floorboards creaked slightly when he stepped forward, gently pushing the door behind him shut. 

"I'm tired of being a big boy," he admitted. I smiled widely and held my arms out, patting the pillow next to mine. Without hesitation, Oliver crawled into bed beside me and snuggled into my arm, his beloved teddy bear right next to him. Within an instant, I felt at comfort in the otherwise too-large bed. The absence of my husband still lingered in the back of my mind, but with little Oliver in my arms, I seemed to forget for some time. 

"You don't have to be a big boy just yet, Oli," I laughed, placing a delicate kiss on the soft skin of his forehead. He lifted his head ever so slightly, the usual humor and mischief--yet another trait inherited from his father--almost entirely absent. I frowned, my forehead wrinkling with worry. 

"What's wrong?" I asked.

I leaned back to get a better look at his features and there was only one way to describe the emotion painted all over them: sadness.

"I miss daddy."

His frail voice trembled and tears sprung into his eyes. I immediately embraced him, running my fingers through the small curls that rested on top of his forehead.

Saying that Louis and Oliver were close was an understatement. When we found out that I was expecting a child, it's obvious that Louis and I were both over the moon. Louis, especially. And when we learned that we'd have a son, only seconds after finding out, Louis dragged me to a number of baby stores to buy clothes and toys. I remembered how excited he'd been, the way he never stopped mentioning how much fun the three of us would have together. How we'd be a family.  

And now their relationship was stronger than I had ever seen a father and child's to be. Maybe that feeling was caused by my own dreary relationship with my father, but it was true nonetheless. 

A shaky sigh escaped my lips. 

"I know, Oli, so do I. But he'll be back before we know it, I promise."

Oliver only nodded his head in response. I could feel the moisture on his cheeks caused by the tears that had escaped and it broke my heart. Here was my child, crying himself to sleep on the night of Christmas Eve. And for that reason, I stayed awake, the very idea of falling asleep being flung right out of the window.

My hand repeatedly combed through Oliver's hair, soothing him until finally, soft snores emitted from the small boy. I tiredly rubbed my eyes, my mind racing with thoughts that only saddened me further. No matter what, Louis always came home for Christmas. We celebrated his birthday together and then the holiday, but this time, it just wouldn't be the same. 

It wasn't until traces of the newly-arrived morning sun streamed through the poorly closed blinds and thin curtains that I found myself drifting off into a place where as a little girl and even a few years ago, I spent much of my time. 

*

I awoke only hours later, but it wasn't by my own will. I'd say the sound of a door fiercely smacking shut was more of a reason than anything else. 

I sat up in bed, trying to make sense of the rambunctious noise. And then I noticed something missing. My eyes scanned the room, seeing nothing but the usual laundry basket in the corner, the photographs on the walls, the dressers, and Louis' guitar standing up only a few feet from the bed. 

The bed.

Panic subdued me when I saw that the spot beside me wasn't taken by Oliver like I had expected it to be. I threw my comforters to the side and leapt off with too much force, the sudden impact with the floor making faint pain shoot through my feet. But I didn't care for that, the only thing clouding my mind being curiosity. 

Without hesitation, I flung open the door to my bedroom and saw that Oliver's bedroom door, which was almost right across mine, was wide open. The bed was made, the curtains pulled back, and toys were littered across the floor, the only thing missing being the owner of the room. 

I decided to take a better look, my feet carrying me into the small room, and I came to a stop right in front of the doorway. I thought I had heard the faint noise of chuckles and some giggling, but put it off as children playing outside. My hand flew to my head in confusion. If he wasn't in his room, where could he go? 

"Oliver?" I called out, my voice growing in volume with the repitition of his name. I spun on my heel to leave the room, but was stopped short by a small voice. 

"Yes, mum?" 

My eyes widening, I turned back around, but it proved to be a poor decision. Because the second I was facing his room, cold, freezing water was shot at me from head to toe. I gasped, trying to cower behind my hands, but that did me no good, because the water just kept coming. If it wasn't for my eyes and mouth being squeezed shut, I would have yelled for him to stop.

After a small eternity, and after water was dripping from my soaking hair, shirt, and shorts, the firing came to an abrupt stop. My hands shaking because of the cold water that covered my entire body and the anger that was gradually building up, I lifted my head to glower at my son. 

Sure enough, he was armed with a large water gun, one that I had never seen before. But the more surprising sight was the man standing next to him, holding the same water gun, and smacking Oliver's hand in a high-five. 

My jaw nearly touching the ground, I gawked at him. 

"L--Louis?"

When the word escaped my lips, Louis diverted his attention from Oliver to me. His eyes mirrored Oliver's, small crinkles surrounding them because of joy, and the only thing different about him was the stubble coating his cheeks and chin. And even when he began stepping towards me, I didn't quite believe that he was actually there. 

Louis didn't say a word, only dropped the water gun to the ground and came to stand only inches away from me. 

"What, no Happy Birthday?" He asked incredulously, his arms raised in a shocked manner. But I was still too surprised to say anything. 

"Happy Birthday, but...I thought you weren't coming home until--"

I didn't get a chance to finish my thought because before I could, Louis wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me in for a kiss that very well made up for the three months that he had been gone. He pulled away soon after, but still held my body to his, his forehead resting on mine. 

I ran my hands through his hair, setting them on the nape of his neck. 

"You really thought I'd miss Christmas with you and Oliver?" 

I didn't have an adequate response, the only thing I could think of doing was to peck his lips once again. 

I was having a hard time believing that he was actually there, and that I was actually in his arms. 

The sound of a childish scream made the two of us jump away from each other. We looked to Oliver, who was covering his eyes with his small hands and frankly, he looked sorta terrified. 

"My eyes!" He screamed as he ran in a complete circle before stumbling past us and right out of the door. 

Louis and I glanced at each other before bursting into laughter. 

"We may have just scarred our son for life," I pointed out, my hand clutching my stomach in hysteria. 

Louis laughed along, placing a sweet kiss on my forehead. 

"He'll get over it. Now, let's go downstairs, your present awaits."

"Louis," I whined when he began pushing me through the corridor, "At least let me get dressed."

I turned to face him and pointed down at my drenched clothes. He seemed to consider it, but only for a split second, because I ended up being picked up off of the floor.

"You're going to get all of your clothes wet as well," I pointed out, trying to shove myself away from him.

He rolled his eyes. "That doesn't bother me. I'm seeing you after three months, honestly, nothing you do would bother me."

I decided to test his theory. My hands inched up his shoulders and pinched his back, but he didn't do as much as flinch.

"Fine." I crossed my arms back over my chest.

 He laughed at my cross expression, but still headed towards the staircase. I wasn't actually angry at him and stopped pretending like I was when I allowed my head to rest on his chest. It rose and fell with his steady breathing, which somehow wasn't altered even when he was carrying me.

I peered up at my husband, seeing a small and knowing smile on his face. I couldn't exactly explain to him how much I had missed him, or how glad I was that he was here. But I had a feeling that he knew.

Not taking my eyes off of him, I subconsciously played with the top button of his flannel shirt, my other hand woven into the hair just above the nape of his neck.

"I love you," I said, making no attempt to suppress my smile.

Louis' shoulders shook as he chuckled. He bent down and placed a small kiss on the tip of my nose.

"I love you, too."

The way he looked down at me, which such adoration and a huge amount of love in his eyes, as cheesy as it sounds, made me fall for him all over again. It was a weird feeling, being married. Mother had told me not to marry unless I was positive that I loved him. And with Louis, it seemed that I was reminded of that fact not every day but every second, whether I was with him or not.

I was startled by the chorus of "Aww's" that erupted around us, my gaze darting towards the lounge room ahead of the staircase. I gasped lightly and Louis set me down on my feet, keeping one hand around my waist. 

The line of familiar faces came as a great shock, especially since I hadn't seen most of them in a long time. Danielle and Liam stood side by side next to a Christmas tree that I didn't have the heart to assemble without Louis, but now, it was all set up, except for the star that belonged on top. There were towering stacks of presents behind them, ones that definitely hadn't been there when I left the lounge room the night before. 

Zayn and Perrie were leaning against the fireplace, smiles on their faces as well as they watched Niall and Harry, who were wrestling with Oliver. I watched as Harry lifted Oliver up as high as he could, just so he could plant the star on top of the Christmas tree.

The sight was magnificent. 

The people who brought me all of the happiness I could wish for, the people who brought me a whole other world were all gathered in front of me. And there was one person who stood amidst of it all. 

Her hands were knit together in front of her, and a huge smile graced her lips. 

Mother.

It was all so perfect. 

It wasn't picture perfect, no. 

It was the kind of perfect where everything was so imperfect. There were candy wrappers strewn across the messy floors, the ornaments on the Christmas tree were obviously hung by Niall, Harry, and Oliver, seeing that there were some pretty silly ones. And not to mention, I was still drenched in water. 

It was the kind of perfect that I had come to know. Not flawless--perfect in a relative way. 

Perfect in the way where I knew that things didn't always turn out the way I wanted, but in the end, the things that mattered were always right there in front of me. 

* 

Dear Eleanor,

It's been a while. 

Six years, to be exact. 

I never wrote back to you before because I was unsure about a few things myself. I didn't know if it was going to work. If Louis and I were actually going to work.

He seemed so confident about it, but me? After everything that had happened in the span of a year, how could I expect anything to turn out alright for once? That's right, I couldn't. And so I didn't.

But Louis proved me wrong. He's given me everything I've ever wanted and more and proved to me that maybe it's all worth it. Maybe your engagements, maybe they're only mere stepping stones. You're heading to a bigger world, one that brings you all the happiness you'd ever want in forms you'd never expect. So let me share with you what life has brought to me.

We have a son. 

His name's Oliver and he's four years old now. It's fair to say that he's a carbon copy of his father, mischievous, smart, and adorable. Louis and I visited an adoption agency a few months ago and guess what? We're eligible for adopting a child. It seems as if all of my wishes are coming true. And the best news yet?

I'm expecting. 

I haven't told Louis yet, I haven't found the right moment. Tomorrow's Christmas, so maybe I can tell him then. I guess what I'm trying to say is that things are only going to go uphill from here. For you and me both. You deserve to be happy Eleanor, because you care about the happiness of others. Don't give me so much credit for being selfless and whatnot, because so are you. You deserve someone who will care for you just as you care for the ones you love.

My friends are happy. 

To be truthful, this is the one of the biggest gifts I could receive. Harry's been with Alice for a year now, and they're going strong. Niall and Monica--as cute as ever. And Danielle's expecting her second child with Liam as well. Maybe this sounds weird, but you're also my friend, Eleanor. We've had some rough times, but you're one of the reasons I'm the person I am today. So for that reason, I can't forget about you like you asked. We should never forget, Eleanor, because every memory is like a puzzle piece. Without one; life is incomplete. 

Father and I spoke. 

I went to drop off my wedding invitation and you'll never believe it Eleanor, he actually came. Maybe it didn't exactly patch up our relationship completely, but it meant more to me than he'll ever know. He's still my father, and no matter how much I try sometimes, I can never hate him. The wedding was fantastic, and I understand why you couldn't make it, you had family matters to take care of, so don't feel bad. And I heard from the boys about the trip you took to visit Henry. I don't know how to thank you. He's special to me, and until I figure out a way to bring him closer to where I am, I'm glad that he has someone.

 So please, have hope. 

You'll find him, and you should trust me when I tell you to believe it. I'm living proof, aren't I? Despite all odds, here we are, six years later, together.

Have hope and take care of yourself, Eleanor, and one day you'll find the person who will take care of you.

  Love,

                Charlotte.