I do not own Twilight, though the plot is mine. This is un-beta'd, & all mistakes are mine. Thanks for deciding to take time out of your day to read this, I hope I don't disappoint. xxx

Chapter 1:

I was on my third glass of wine, but the anxiety I was feeling just didn't seem to lessen. I shouldn't act surprised though, alcohol rarely had an effect on me these days. I sighed as I watched the red liquid poor from my glass into the sink. He's still not home.

"Isabella?" I heard his voice call into the room only moments after the I heard the sound of the front door opening. I cursed silently under my breath as I bit my tongue until I could detect the salty taste of my own blood. I hated the name Isabella, opting instead to be called Bella. He knew that, he just liked how proper and rich my full name sounded. Why sound rich though, when you can tell by our overly extravagant home that we have more than our own fair share of money? I hate this house almost as much as I hate the new life that we've adapted since moving here.

"I'm in the kitchen," I called, hoping my voice at least sounded pleasant. I hear his footsteps get louder as he makes his way into the room I'm currently wasting away in.

"What's for dinner?" He asks calmly, placing a calculated kiss on my cheek as he reaches for my hand to remove the wine glass. It was pure crystal. I wanted to throw it against the wall to see how easily it would break.

I shrug without much interest, knowing I didn't have the energy or the desire to cook up anything tonight. "Sandwiches?" I ask. In the earlier days of our marriage, all of our meals basically consisted of some kind of sandwich, being to poor to afford much else. It was never a problem though, we enjoyed the meal together. Once upon a time, I could always tempt him successfully with a ham and cheese sandwich. These days though, I didn't need to turn around to see the look of disgust that now formed around his appearance.

"I get you this big, beautiful kitchen, and all you can cook for me is a couple pieces of meat and cheese slapped between two pieces of bread?" He chuckled humorlessly. "Will you ever change, Isabella?"

"What have you done today?" I asked, hoping to distract myself from grabbing up the kitchen shears and going Psycho on his ass.

"The same. James had a barbecue at his house. It's a shame you didn't come, the other wives were disappointed." I gritted my teeth. I couldn't stand the other females in this town. I went to one of their book club meetings and all they wanted to do was drink expensive herbal tea that was imported from China and gossip about the women who didn't come. Not once did we discuss books.

"I must have had a headache," I lied.

"Mhm," he murmured, not believing me. His smirk grew as his next statement left his tongue. "You know James' wife, Victoria? Well, she cooks up a feast for James every night. She's very obedient, and also quite attractive. She spends two hours every morning doing her hair and putting on makeup so that James can be woken up to a beautiful face."

My anger at being compared to Victoria was too much to contain. She's nothing but a cow who believes she's far better than any other woman. "Why don't you marry Victoria then?" I ask, my teeth still tightly forced together. The question sounded like more of a hiss.

"Don't be silly, Isabella," his laughter vibrated off the stainless steel that was plastered throughout the kitchen. "Victoria's married."

"So are you." I pointed out, holding up my left had to emphasis the truth of my come back.

"Maybe," he admitted. "But sometimes, I feel like I quit exploring the wonders of the sea too soon. Maybe I picked the wrong fish."

I hung my head in shame, knowing there was nothing I could say. Seven years of marriage, and this is what we become? I knew I should leave him, but a large part of me couldn't help but hold on to what we once had. There was once so much love and tenderness in his brown eyes, but now I saw nothing but harshness, cold and calculating. I let out a shaky breath, willing myself to keep the tears at bay long enough to flee the room. I would not give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, I've given him enough already.

"I think I should lie down," I speak, my voice sounding dead and detached. "I think my headache is returning." He nodded, as if I was asking permission. Anger replaced the sorrow as I looked him in the eyes. "You're a terrible person, Jacob Black," I say, my voice wavering. It's been nearly two years since I've stood up for myself, but I couldn't keep letting him walk all over me. "What happened to you?"

His eyes narrowed, apparently dissatisfied by my outburst.

"You loved me once," I said to him, reaching out for his hands. "You once thought I was beautiful. You told me that I completed you, that I made you feel things you've never felt before. Is that really over? Can we salvage none of our relationship from this wreckage? You use to love my jeans and my naturally wavy hair. You had the most badass motorcycle and a leather jacket. Since when did you trade that in for polos and sweaters and suburbia?"

His eyes searched mine and my voice grew desperate. "I love you, Jacob Black. Don't you still love me too?"

As his hands left mine, I felt what was left of my heart shatter. Too long have I dealt with this kind of neglect. He slid his hands into his pockets and bowed his head.

"Bella," he said. I should feel elated that he had finally spoken the name I yearn to hear. "Maybe we should talk."

A/N: Thanks again for reading, guys! Take a minute and tell me what you think! Like it ? Hate it? Who wants to kick Jacob in the crotch?

Until next time,

xxxxx Stephanie