Disclaimer: I do not own these characters or the universe S Meyer created. There may be strong subjects...

Dear Jane

I stared at the remains of the dirty white paper. It had been crumpled, ripped, frayed, and almost burned caused by the effects of my anger. But I couldn't burn it just yet. I needed the words in case my eyes had been deceiving and my mind had just made it all up. For the past eight months I had carried it with me along with the pink stick and my own letter that I was writing. But it wasn't just a piece of paper. It had been my life.

The pink stick – it was gross. But it had been a constant reminder to keep myself in check. No smokes. No drinks. No bubble baths. No fish. They were just a few among the long list of things I couldn't do. I couldn't hurt myself in any way, and I didn't want to just yet. Any damage that I wanted to do had to wait… only twenty minutes.

I received his letter the same day I bought the pink stick. I was happy and excited which was extremely rare for a soldier's wife. Well technically we never made it official so I was his still his fiancé. As high school sweethearts, we were young and naïve. We were those kids who thought nothing could tear them apart – thought we'd last forever… until he was shipped off to Afghanistan and met Emily. Part of me hoped that "Em" stood for something like Emmanuel or Emmett, but he wrote about her. He told me how beautiful and kind she was, and that it was love at first sight. It was the only way he could describe it. Then he said he was sorry. Sorry. He ended six years after just five months with her and the only thing he could say was that he was sorry. He even mailed back his ring. He'd made us matching rings of intricate twine because we were so poor, but the promise had been just the same if not stronger. Those I actually got to burn.

I hadn't told him about the baby and I was never going to – at least I wasn't planning on it. I couldn't live with a piece of him; it would hurt too much to have her around. Also a small part of me was afraid that she'd end up hating me or worse that I would end up hating her. And if Sam didn't want to be with me, he couldn't have any piece of me. I knew this was the wrong decision, but he didn't deserve her. Neither of us did. Adoption was easy and hard, and many couples were willing. There was no paternal family to object while my family tried to change my mind, but the Elders understood. The Cullens were nice, stable, and rich; they would be able to give her everything that I couldn't. She was going to be beautiful and smart. She'd be able to go to summer camps, get braces, get a car on her sixteenth birthday, go to college, and have a big fancy wedding.

I was discharged. The wooden bench outside the hospital was the best place for me to finish my letter and to wait for Seth who promised me some of his best moonshine. I tried to find the right words to say… the right way to tell her that giving her up will always be the biggest regret of my life… that I'll think about her everyday and wonder what I missed out on… that my heart will never beat the same way again…

I pulled out the lighter I had bought in the hospital gift shop and the cigarette I bummed off a nurse. I held off a cough when I inhaled and held the crumpled paper above the flame until the corner blackened. I breathed slowly inhaling deeply as I watched the flames make Sam's words disappear. When they were gone I stomped my foot on the ashes and finished my smoke.

"Leah?" Mrs. Cullen called walking out of the automatic doors. She smiled and babbled on about how perfect and tiny she was. She cried again and thanked me for the millionth time revealing the name they had chosen for their daughter. She was a Quiluete and had Clearwater blood, but I would never have the right to call her mine.

The name was terrible – simple – beautiful – ironic – and perfect. She would never be plain, and she would always wonder about me. It's one of the reasons why I picked the Cullens. Her dark hair and skin would stand out and remind her where she came from and who she was. She would have an answer whenever she needed one.

Mrs. Cullen went back inside and I looked down at my letter, rereading my words and hoping they were perfect. With my best effort, I neatly wrote her name at the top of my piece of paper and wiped the stray tear from my cheek.

Dear Jane,


AN: A "Dear Jane" letter is basically the reverse of a Dear John letter…

So not my usual type of work… It's not my "cute and fluffy" but I hope you liked it anyways. This was stuck in my head and I needed to get it out...

Fun fact – This little drabble was inspired by a MASH episode. I could have dragged it out way longer, but I thought in this case that short and sweet was better.

*also I don't condone any of Leah's actions… if you're pregnant, you better let the father know. Just saying…

THANKS FOR READING!!