First of all, I just want to apologise. I know I said I'd do a HEA version of this story for those of you who wanted to read it- and I promise I will, but I've not been well and I've sort of lost all motivation to write anything. It's taken me weeks to write even something this short and I want to make sure that when I do eventually get round to writing it that it's something I'll be happy with so please Ben patient with me!

Thank you to everyone who read 'Don't Let Go'. I was overwhelmed by all of your support and messages. I'll try and get the other ending written for you all soon!

Bex xx

Half an hour. That was how long it had taken her to actually pluck up the courage to open the door to the annexe. She'd been stood there, clutching the cardboard boxes she was carrying until her knuckles turned white, her stomach churning. No matter how many times she reminded herself she had to do it she still didn't seem to be able to actually make her feet move.

The house had sold just as quickly as she'd expected, which should have been a relief. It was eerily quiet in there with her husband gone and Sophie back in Australia. Everywhere she looked she saw him and the struggle to open the door to the annexe just confirmed the fact she was doing the right thing by leaving- there were far too many ghosts there.

The knowledge she was doing the right thing however, did very little to help with the fact that she still had to sort through all of his things and pack them away. It seemed horrifically final, somehow even more so than the funeral, to be packing his entire life into a few little cardboard boxes. Her son was gone and all she was going to be left with was a few boxes of his things and the regrets of all the things she wished she'd said while she still had the chance.

She had no idea what she was going to do with it all. She'd never be able to throw any of it away, she knew that, but if she took it all to the new house with her it was going to end up being just as painful being there as it was standing in the kitchen of the annexe.

Weird. She decided that was probably the only word to describe it. Everything was exactly where they'd left it the morning they flown to Switzerland. The flowers she'd picked from the garden had wilted and died in the crystal vase on the windowsill, that was the only real difference. The two mugs that her and Steven had drunk their coffee from that morning were still upturned on the draining board. Charles' cup sat next to them. She felt the tears starting to well in her eyes as she looked at it. It felt as though any second he should come back in from the garden, teasing Molly about whatever she'd done this time.

The silence in the annexe was deafening.

She dropped the rest of the boxes beside the cooker and walked further inside with a box ready to start packing his things up. The cushions on the sofa were scattered around untidily, no doubt from where her husband had sat down to watch the news with Charles. She reached out with trembling hands to put them back in their rightful place. She could hear him in her head, the disapproval in his voice as he told her that a couple of pillows out of place never hurt anyone.

He was right. God how she wished she could go back and do it all over. How many nights had she laid there awake wishing she'd been less caught up in controlling every aspect of his life and just been there with him. It had been so much easier, particularly in the beginning, to focus on the things she could actually fix- like putting in ramps and adapting the house for him. She'd never told him, but at the time she'd always assumed it would be a temporary measure. Even when the doctors had told them he was never going to walk again she'd brushed it off, as had Charles, assuming that things would change and eventually she'd get her son back.

The truth was though, that she'd lost her son the second that car had crashed. The man that had woken up in the hospital afterwards hadn't been her son, not really. He was angry and resentful, like he was looking for someone to blame for the fact the life he'd planned had just been snatched from underneath his nose.

Then she'd got him back. Those few months with Molly, watching the Charles she knew and loved re-emerge from the bitter and angry man who'd been sat in that wheelchair for months- it had lifted a weight from her shoulders and given her hope. He'd seemed so happy and content that had never even occurred to her when he'd come back from their holiday that he might still have planned to go through with it.

Standing there in the airport as Molly had told her had knocked all the air from her lungs. Standing there in the doorway to his bedroom was like being back in that moment all over again. The bedsheets were still crumpled and unmade from where he'd slept in his bed for the last time. His jumper draped over the back of the armchair and a pair of socks sitting on the floor. The whole room still smelled like him, as though he could've been there just a few moments ago.

She found herself moving over to his bed in a daze, her fingertips skimming over the pillows. Would there ever be a day where she'd wake up and it wouldn't be quite as painful when the realisation he was gone hit her? She doubted it. For the first time though, she could understand why he'd done what he did- not that it made it any easier- but if he missed his old life even a fraction as badly as she missed him she could see why he couldn't continue to live.

Sinking down onto the bed she picked up the photo that sat beside his bed. He'd got rid of almost all of the photos she originally put up in there for him. Only two remained. The one in her hand of him with Sophie, Steven and her. His arms around them as they grinned into the camera. She could remember it being taken as though it had happened yesterday- it was when he'd just come home from his first tour. The mixture of relief at him being home and overwhelming pride as he'd told them about what he'd done. Those six months he had been gone had felt endless, the idea of spending the rest of her life without her son made her stomach flip again- this time he really wasn't coming home.

She gently placed the photo back on the bedside table and picked up the other frame that sat next to it. He'd asked her to get the photo of him and Molly printed the day after he'd come back from their trip. She assumed Mark had taken it, Molly was sitting on Charles' lap in his wheelchair on the beach. They had a flower garland each around their neck and Molly had a cocktail in her hand. She could tell from the photo they were both laughing about something, from the mischievous look on his face she'd guess that he was probably winding her up about something.

She couldn't help but wonder what he'd have said if he knew Molly had joined the army. She knew without a doubt that he loved her, in a way that he'd never loved Rebecca. It had been so lovely to see him so happy with her in those last few months, but also heart wrenchingly painful to know that whatever happened he was never going to stand at the altar and marry her, or run around the garden with her playing with their children.

The more she thought about it, the more she could understand his side of the argument in a way she never had before. That still didn't change the fact her son was gone though, and she knew she'd spend the rest of her life missing him every second of every day.

She put the photo back down carefully and opened the drawer ready to start clearing things out. She knew what it was, the second she was the cream envelope sitting there on top of all of his things. It was exactly the same as the one she'd given to Molly a few days earlier. She could barely see through the tears that were already forming in her eyes as she picked up the envelope and shakily tore it open.

Mum,

If you're reading this then it means you've finally got round to clearing away my things. I'm glad, get rid of it all- the last thing you need is some kind of shrine to me. I'm almost certain you will feel better once it's all gone.

I wasn't really sure what to say, I was sort of hoping that maybe I might've been able to say it all to you before, but you know what I'm like- I've always been terrible with words so I thought this would be a good back up plan.

I love you Mum. That's basically what I'm getting at. I know I've not been the easiest person over these last couple of years and I've pushed you away and made things difficult. I was angry, and I'm sorry I took it out on you. I know it doesn't make much difference, me saying this now, but I'm hoping it might help you to forgive me one day.

I've got you to thank for bringing Molly into my life after all. I'm not sure if you knew what you were doing or not when you hired her, but these last six months and the time we all got to spend together was more precious to me than you will ever know.

Look after Sophie for me, I know she's angry at me for doing this- you probably are too- and I understand. I think that one day though you'll probably both realise why I had to do this, for all of us.

And whatever Dad does, don't let him cause you any more pain than he already has. I'm hopeful that with me gone maybe you'll both finally get some peace and be able to move on with you lives- whether that's together or not, I just really hope you're both happy. That's all that matters.

So, go and do something you've always wanted to. You've always worked too hard and it's about time you did something for yourself. Go and visit Sophie, or maybe go on that cruise you always wanted to do and Dad hated?

Whatever it is, I hope it makes you happy and that you know I love you.

Don't think of me too often. Just go out there and live.

I love you Mum.

Charles.