(Author Note: So I accidentally wrote that this was a oneshot in the initial description. This is the first story I've posted and I thought it would keep my formatting of separating the chapters with asterisks/spacing but I guess not. Anyway it's quite short, 4 chapters if you can call them that. I wrote this quickly in one sitting, probably about an hour or so. I plowed through DA for the first time over the past few weeks and now have a new OTP... I couldn't get this out of my head. I really don't like Mary with Henry)
Mary sits in her bed that night and turns the pages of her wedding album. She stops on a portrait of Matthew in his wedding attire and strokes it lovingly. No one could ever replace him. How could she have been so stupid as to think things with Henry would work? They never had, and they never would.
Henry was handsome, yes, but not as handsome as Matthew. He was charming, but not as charming as Matthew. Henry made her feel wanted, but not loved, not cherished. Not alive.
She closes the book softly and places it on her bedside table. It is true. She hasn't felt fully alive since Matthew's passing. Yes, she is doing much better now, and her love for George helps to ease the pain. But she hasn't felt fully alive, excited, and eager to see what the next day would bring since the day she gave birth to George, before receiving the terrible news about Matthew.
That moment with Matthew and George in the hospital is one of her most precious memories, and she cherishes it dearly. George is starting to look like his father now too—blonde hair, blue eyes, and even a mischievous smirk nearly identical to the one that Mary saw so many times during their friendship, courtship, and eventual marriage. She loves that he takes after his father, but it is also painful and at times disarming to see a miniature version of his face daily.
George is just another part of what had made her relationship with Henry so difficult. He wasn't unkind to George, but he was awkward around him. He didn't know how to interact with children—a fact which he told her more than once—but that wasn't really it. A man can learn to be a father. She knows deep down that he was uncomfortable with the idea of raising another man's child. The fact is that most eligible bachelors are, even if they seem fine with it on the surface. She can't help but think of her childhood friend Margaret, whose stepfather always favored his biological children, and made sure that Margaret knew it.
She wonders if she'll ever love again, never mind marry.
She wonders if she was too harsh to Tom that morning. After all, he's one of the few people she's been able to truly relate to since Matthew passed, one of her few real friends. He knows what it's like—losing a spouse young and being a single parent.
But a friend is a poor substitute for a husband.
Mary sighs and turns out the light.