So, uh, hi. This one's a little weird for me. It came to me a couple of
months ago now while I was listening to a random playlist on Youtube.
As seems to be my MO, it's probably going to be heavy on the angst, but also
kinda heavy on the sweet-eventually. It'll be HEA, of course, but I honestly don't know
how we'll get there or when. This one's holding the reins, not me. I'm hoping
it's going to help kill my writer's block, so...we'll see.

Oh, and because it's more a stream-of-consciousness dealio, it's unbeta'd as
of right now and I have no rigid update schedule, although I'll
try and keep updates regular. All mistakes are mine.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the recognisable characters; those are all Stephanie Meyer's.
No copyright infringement is intended.

~ oOo ~

Summary: Maybe we were fooling ourselves, thinking we'd make it. In some respects, we have. We've created a comfortable life for ourselves and our beautiful children. If nothing else, they'll be our legacy. Proof that although we weren't destined to be together forever, we were always meant to create something worthwhile. Our love story is the same as many others. It was never meant to last.

~ oOo ~

Dandelions

The Beginning And The End

The heavy weight of words unsaid and the feelings I've been repressing for so long sit like an anchor in my chest; unwieldy and unwelcome.

I blink back the sting of tears, cataloguing everything about his face as he stares at me with those bright emerald eyes—a gaze I know almost better than my own.

"This…" He stops, clearing his throat. "This can't be it...can it?"

My heart is breaking. Or maybe it was already broken, I don't know. Either way, the pain spreads through my chest as I close the space between us and slowly slide my arms around his waist. He's warm. Comforting. The smell of him, woodsy and achingly familiar, invades my senses. As I press my cheek to his chest, in the same spot it's rested hundreds of times in the last thirteen years, I feel his heart galloping away.

Like mine.

"I miss you," I croak.

The tightening of his arms as they wrap around me tell me he knows what I mean. He's right here, but I miss him. I ache for the boy I fell in love with. The happy-go-lucky boy who always wore a lazy grin and board shorts. He's gone now. Lost to a world of suits, lies, and a career that I never really took the time to learn about. The boy I fell in love with, the boy who taught me to ride motorcycles on La Push beach and who stuck chopsticks up his nose to make me laugh when I had tonsilitis...he's not here anymore.

Just like I'm not the same girl who thought life was all fairytales and happy endings. I grew up—we grew up. And just as people tried to warn us, we grew up into vastly different, incompatible people. We'll always be linked, of course. We share three beautiful children and a life we built together, some of which will be easier to separate than the rest. My aching heart seizes as I picture our babies, our gorgeous children who've already faced too much in their short lives. But we're not the same kids who once thought we'd be together forever. Not anymore.

With that thought, I force myself to pull away even though it physically hurts to pry my arms from his waist. He clings harder for a beat longer before releasing me with a shuddering sigh. I'm a grown-up—or a 'growned-up' as our youngest says—but I feel like a terrified kid on their my day of school as I suck in a small breath and peer up at the man I always thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. The man I'm raising children with, building a home with...breaking up with? It seems inconceivable that we'd ever have an end.

"I'll pack some bags and call a cab." The words taste like dirt on my tongue.

"Don't leave, okay?" His hand moves toward me, but I step back just out of his reach and shake my head minutely. I'm losing the fight against my tears now, but it's too hard. This is too hard without him holding onto me, too. "Stay here and I'll go somewhere else. The kids—" He chokes, raking a hand through his hair and chewing the inside of his cheek.

God, our babies. As always, my heart fills to the point of exploding when I think of our three children. Jace and Dillan, our boys. They're so very smart for their age, but also extremely sensitive and resistant to any kind of change. Sadie, our little ballbuster, as Edward calls her. She's her daddy's princess; their sun rises and sets with each other.

This is going to break their hearts.

I picture how their innocent faces will look when I pick them up from their nana's in a few hours. I'll have to face my mom and dad; I'll have to persuade them there's nothing wrong even though it feels like my whole world is imploding around me.

"I need to go…" I mumble. Walking on autopilot, I reach our bedroom. I can't look at the canvas print of our first dance as husband and wife which hangs above our bed, or the frames decorating the dresser. The pictures immortalize some of the best parts of our life together, but right now, I can't think of our fifth wedding anniversary sipping wine at the top of the Eiffel Tower, Jace, Dillan, and Sadie's Gotcha Day, or the day we said goodbye to the USA and hello to British living.

"Where will you go?" Edward leans in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I'm not sure yet."

"Demetri's?"

I grit my teeth, cursing when a swipe of my hand under our bed uncovers nothing but carpet and Sadie's lost pink sneaker.

The hall closet. The suitcases are in the hall closet.

As I slide past Edward, he silently refuses to move. The length of my body brushes against his, my hitched breath making his eyes clench shut before he stalks down the hall. The suitcases hit the hall floor one-by-one, in sync with his heavy footsteps on the stairs.

My falling tears create dark spots on Jace and Dillan's green Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle case as I set it on my bed, hesitating for a moment to collect myself before returning to the hall for Sadie's My Little Pony case and my duffle. It only takes a few minutes to pack the essentials for the kids—a few of Sadie's pull-ups, Jace's Lamby, Dillan's Spiderman pajamas. Underwear, clothes, their toothbrushes and spare shoes…

Chewing my lip, I can't help it; I glance up at the canvas above our leather headboard, almost savoring the spear of pain that tears through my chest. It means I care. It means that, at some point, we were on the right track. We looked so happy. So carefree. We had no idea that in our first year of marriage he'd lose his job and we'd receive the heartbreaking news that we were both infertile. No idea that all our childish dreams were just that.

"Bella, we need to talk about this."

I spin in place. Edward's expression is grim, his eyes watery and bloodshot. I've always hated seeing him lose it. He's cried exactly four times in front of me.

When I agreed to marry him, when we were told we'd never have biological children, when we met Jace, Dillan, and Sadie for the first time, and the day they came home to stay.

Five. Five times. He's crying now.

I never wanted to become a statistic. A number on a chart representing broken hearts and failed marriages.

Is that what this is? A failed marriage? A failure?

Even now, even as my heart splinters and I zip up the kids' bags, I can't bring myself to call this a failure. Not when so much good has come from it.

"Edward, please…"

Neither of us know what I'm asking for, not really.

The honk of a horn outside breaks the red-faced, teary-eyed staring contest.

"That's my cab…" I called it while I packed. It's clear from the furrowing of Edward's brows and the downward curl of his lips that he didn't think I'd do it. Even as I packed for an indeterminate amount of time away with the children, he didn't think I'd leave. But I have to, don't I? This marriage...it's not working anymore. Maybe it hasn't been for a long time. Longer than I'd like to think about or admit.

My voice fails me—another failure—as I ask him to call his brother or James; I don't want him to be alone.

He scoffs and shakes his head, tears tumbling over his cheeks unabated now. I shiver as he crosses the room and cups my cheeks in his large hands. For a moment, just a moment, I let my eyes slip shut and allow myself a few selfish seconds of soaking up the comfort his touch has always given me. He's been my best friend, my first everything, my boyfriend, my husband, and the father of my children. He's still some of those things, but it's not enough anymore.

We're not enough.

Pain radiates from my shattered heart as I finally take a deep breath and move out of his grasp, tears pouring from my eyes and ice slithering through my veins.

Be strong, Bella. You need to be strong—for yourself, and for the children.

"Wait, B-Bella. Don't leave. Don't throw away our marriage."

I pause in the doorway, pulling my case and the boys', Sadie's resting on top of her brothers'. It hurts to face Edward and know that when I cross the threshold of the bedroom and the hall, I'm crossing an invisible line that I don't think I'll ever be able to cross back over. If I do this, if I leave, I know in my heart of hearts that it's permanent. We don't do this—we're not the couple that fights, that breaks up just to make up and get back together.

A small voice in the back of my head reminds me that this time...this time it's different.

"Are you asking me to stay because you want me to, or because you think you should?" I ask, genuinely wondering.

He looks puzzled by my question.

Sucking in a breath that burns all the way down to my lungs, I ask the question I wasn't brave enough to ask earlier. "If I stay…Edward, if I stay, do you honestly think you'll be able to look at me the way you used to? The way you did before I...before what happened, happened?"

The flash of fire in his wet eyes is all the answer I need.

My tiny, humorless smile is sad as I let him off the hook. "I'll have the children call you when I get them settled."

He nods jerkily, just once, and the last time I see my husband as I cross that invisible line, he's sitting heavily on the edge of our bed—my side—with his head in his hands and his fingers pulling hard at his hair.

The cab driver looks horrified when I step out onto the street and make my way toward his car. He hops out to pop the trunk, helping me with the bags before hurrying back into the driver seat away from the crazy lady with mascara streaked cheeks and heartbreak written all over her. Rattling off my parents' address, I lean back against the leather with an exhausted sigh. My eyes slide shut and all I can picture the entire time I try to figure out how I'll ever be able to break my children's hearts is Edward's tortured face as I walked away.

Maybe we were fooling ourselves, thinking we'd make it. In some respects, we have. We've created a comfortable life for ourselves and our children. If nothing else, they'll be our legacy. Proof that although we weren't destined to be together forever, we were always meant to create something worthwhile. Something lasting.

Our love story is the same as many others. It was never meant to last.

Thoughts, anyone? Am I totally dumb for kinda liking this? *facepalm*