It wasn't the first time I had seen him. He believes it was, and I did nothing to dispel this thought, for it was my secret and mine alone.
He was my fiance's doctor, the woman who I was destined to marry once we came of age. I felt nothing but indifference towards her, although she seemed rather excited and tended to over-talk and flush around me, which I knew to mean she liked me, she wanted me, she found me attractive. The frivolous happiness at the thought that someone wanted me did not flare up, however; I viewed her as nothing more than another woman, a woman I would have to marry. Or, at least, I believed at the time.
No, it was he who I wanted, watching him treat my sickened fiancé, blonde hair combed and nicely wavy, falling slightly into an amazingly handsome face. Tall and lean, he hovered over her, and oh, how I wished to be that girl, being able to do nothing but watch the beautiful man in front of her.
For him to save me in my time of death, I was amazed and yet not so surprised, noticing the pale glow which seemed to surround him almost supernaturally.
The night the pain ended, I kissed him, watching the confusion etch on his face and hear it in his mind. "I'm not like that, Edward."
"But–!"
"I'm not."
He was lying but I never told him that I knew.