AN: Ok, first ever fan fic… maybe there's more, maybe not. It all depends on how well this one goes.

A shout out to my sisters!!!!!! For getting me into this crazy, fantastic, totally addictive world.

I sat facing the blank page on the Word document. "Shit", no other words came to mind

It was finally time to start writing my first novel. I had put it of for years; I'd always had the idea running through my head like wild fire. But it was never THAT time; I never felt the compelling urge to put it on paper. But today is our 10th anniversary and it was about time I sat down and started.

"Shit", again no other words came. How to start? Should I begin with how we met? No, that's too conventional for us. Should I describe him first? His beautiful green eyes, his terribly sexy hair, his chiseled jaw… I chuckled at the image and felt a warm allover. But I still didn't know where to begin.

So… let's start with a name: Edward. Yes! That's how my first should begin. Edward… a silent tear fell on the keyboard.

Oh! What the hell, let's be conventional:

Edward Anthony Cullen had a reputation in high school. He never dated, but every girl on campus longed to see his bedroom, or better, his naked form on top of his bed in his bedroom. A charmer, but not a player. An intellectual, but not a geek. In other words, the perfect guy. But no girl was good enough for him. Until Bella.

Yes, until me. He changed for me. But it was not because I was perfect, my imperfections got him. My clumsiness and my overly confident wit, my very common hair and my (according to him but I still don't believe it) gorgeous eyes.

Another tear hit the keyboard. Shit, I'm a 35 year old woman who can't think about her husband with out crying. But back then I was only a girl and back then it would have been fine to cry me eyes out.

I continued writing: that first day in school, the electricity I felt when I sat next to him in Bio. The light banter that emerged for that first conversation, our continued talks until he finally decided to ask me out. The sock on Jessica Stanley's face the first day we arrived holding hands…Edward, he never let go after that.

By then I was done with my first chapter. Some 50 pages later I smiled at the screen: High school was our very own paradise.

The high school chapter was over, but then came some of the real life that was ahead of us. We both went to Dartmouth, I studied literature and he went into pre med. We lived together on campus and that's where our first real fights took place, but also some of our best makeups and our first serious talks of marriage.

The words were flowing now. All the memories started jumping on the page and, truth be told it was coming out beautifully. Every little Edward detail I could muster was now becoming terrific prose, no more "shits".

The tears in my eyes started mixing with the fits of laughter that came form the memories. That first time I wore animal print lingerie, that time on the beach, that day in Central Park…The tears fell when I remembered that day he threatened to leave… the day he actually left.

College was our worst trial but the best one to suffer.

I had to keep on writing; he was coming alive on the page. But now was the time to start with marriage. I had to take a breath before starting the next chapter. The proposal was magical, but the years that followed…

I had to get up. I stretched my legs and did a turn around the room. I made myself a cup of coffee and sat down again.

"Shit", no word again. If I started with the proposal and the wedding I would get closer to the end. More tears flowed. It's so unfair that after so much happiness and wonder we only got a couple of years…Edward…

That's when I realized that no matter how many chapters of our life I wrote, no matter how many books: he would still die in the accident; he would still leave me forever.

I stopped writing my first novel. I couldn't bring myself to finish our story with a sad note, our life together was so beautiful and he was so much more than I deserved that the ending didn't deserve to be sad. No matter how many lines I wrote, he is still gone for ever.