Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or New Moon. All recognizable plots/settings/characters belong to Stephenie Meyer and no copyright infringement is intended.

"Mrs. Swan?" I heard from the door in my room at the nursing home. Standing there was a fifteen year old girl with tears flowing freely from her face.

"Denise?" I questioned concerned, I'd hate to admit it, but the girl had grown on me in these months she'd been visiting me, "What's wrong?"

I hadn't before seen her so distraught in all the time I'd known her. Usually she had a gorgeous smile on her face, and her eyes were light and happy.

"Oh, Bella," she said, calling me by my first name, "I was so stupid!"

"Stupid, Denise, don't be such a fool, you're anything but stupid."

She was inside my room now. Her hands grasping at my bed sheets as she shivered from the cold on the chair by my bed.

"You don't know that."

"I was the bright and shining example of stupidity when I was younger, sweetheart, I know what stupid is and you are definitely not it. "

Denise let out a strangled laugh, "You, Mrs. Swan, stupid?" I could see the disbelief written upon her face. "You know so much, though; you couldn't have even been stupid?"

I let out a wry smile; the blush that used to light up my cheeks had faded over the last ten years, never to be seen again. In some ways I was grateful, it always embarrassed me so much when I was younger, and on the other hand, the pink color my cheeks would tinge reminded me of someone I loved, still did, actually.

"Just tell me what's wrong."

"There's this guy…" She started off, wiping the tears away with the back of her pale hand. Oh yes, I thought, always a guy.

I motioned for her to continue, "Mrs. Swan," Denise said, she looked rather nervous as she proceeded to biting her nails. "What I've got to tell you, it isn't going to be very believable, but you've got to believe me, and you can't tell!" I could practically hear her thinking of what would happen if whatever she was going to tell me reached the ears of the other people in my small town of Forks.

"Alright." My voice carried impatience, although I could understand her concern. It was seventy three years since I had a vampire for a boyfriend, but I still remembered what it felt like to think I would be sent to a mental institution in three seconds flat if the town was to hear me saying I had an undead, bloodsucking boyfriend.

"Well," she paused, I could see she was still hesitant, "See, this boy, he's sort of a…" A what, I thought, it can't be that bad, a drug dealer, an alcohol abuser, a gay guy?

"He's a vampire."

I coughed loudly. It had been a long time since I had heard that word out loud. In my mind, maybe, but never coming from another source of noise.

Denise seemed to rush forward, as if I were having a heart attack. "I'm fine," I choked out as I managed to continue with her story.

"Don't worry," She was cautious now that she was back in the wooden chair by my bedside, "He hunts animals. Never people."

My breathing caught still, yet again, and I dared to think. Could it be? Could it really be him? I hadn't dared said his name since he left, even when I had Jacob as my best friend, his name was never uttered from my lips.

"He's a vampire." I repeated back to her, that word sounding strange coming from my cracked voice.

"Yes…"

"So what has this… boy… done to reduce you to tears?"

Don't think about him, I willed myself, though failing quite miserably.

"I… I told him I loved him."

I glanced at her.

"And?" I asked impatiently.

"But... he told me…" Tears started falling again, I noticed, as Denise's voice became a whisper, as if it hurt to tell this part of her story, "He told me he likes me, more than he should, more than is right, because you see, he lusts for my blood, but he says his heart already belongs to someone."

My mind raced, those familiar words, "he likes me, more than he should, more than is right.", they sounded like an echo, like those words that he said to me when I was eighteen.

"Did he say who?" I was trying to get into her story, trying to distract myself from the possibilities. Was it possible, though, that Denise had fallen in love with the same boy that still had my love? Because that would mean that he really had moved on, but then who was this mysterious girl who had his heart? It wasn't him, I told myself.

"He said her name was Isabella, Mrs. Swan, kind of like you, Isabella Cullen."

My eyes grew as wide as circles as she continued, "He said that she wasn't dead yet, but she was going to die soon, and he said he couldn't love me," Her eyebrows furrowed at this part, "because when she died, he was going to follow after her as soon as he could. But Mrs. Swan, I don't get it, if he loves someone, why isn't he with her?"

My breathing became shallower, not good for a ninety one year old woman's heart, I'll tell you, but her words were like knives, slicing through my heart, 'he loves her.' I wasn't positive it was him, but this was starting to become way to much like my own life story.

Denise looked alarmed as she bent over me, tripping in the process. I let out a laugh, strangled, but it was a laugh. He always loved my clumsiness.

"He loved her?" I asked to confirm.

"Yes," she was watching me carefully now, "he said that he loved her more than anything on this world."

My heart was beating profusely in my chest; it reminded me of how I felt when he would press his lips to mine.

"Mrs. Swan?"

I came back to reality. "Hmm?" I was still thinking. If it was him, if it really was him, he really still loved me?

"Mrs. Swan, why were you stupid when you were younger?"

I didn't know whether to give her the truth or a lie, but I could hear my heart slowing considerably, I knew that I was going to die soon. Wouldn't it be better if he- I still couldn't bring myself to say his name- knew I loved him, even after all this time?

"Because I fell in love with a vampire."

Denise looked at me with suspicious eyes, not sure if I was telling the truth or not. Something seemed to dawn on her, though, as she looked at me.

"Mrs. Swan," she said to me slowly, "What happened to this vampire of yours?"

"He left me," I could feel the old would reopening, being ripped open, "He left because he didn't think I was safe. He told me he didn't want me, that he didn't love me anymore."

My eyes were those of an eighteen year old Bella again, as I remembered the numbness that fell over me when I was left alone in the forest. I remembered the anguish I felt those first weeks, and then the numbness that followed afterwards. I remembered being revived, being returned to a somewhat normal person with the help of Jacob Black. My memories from that point onward began to rush through my mind; you know that saying that people believe, how when you're going to die, your life flashes before your eyes, I guess it was happening now. The day when Jacob told me he wanted to be more than my friend. The day the pack hunted down Victoria. And after that, watching Jacob give up on being more than a friend to me, and finding a girlfriend. The day Jacob Black got married, and how I resented him because I was never to have my own wedding with the man that left me. The days and months and years following. Me becoming a teacher, like Renee before me, the day Charlie died, the time that Jacob passed away. Then more current happenings like moving into the Forks Senior Citizen home and having Denise visit me for the first time. I caught flashes of days I did nothing, friends, but never anything more, I made, but there was always something, someone, missing from those memories.

"Mrs. Swan," Denise said, everything fitting into place. Me, never having a husband or children, clamming up at any mention of mythical creatures, she saw the sense of it all; "Our vampire is the same, is he?"

I nodded, tears were flowing freely, and I felt like a teenage girl again. A blush caught my cheeks for the first time in ages.

"Tell him… tell Edward…" I said his name for the first time in over seven decades, and it felt more than wonderful, "Tell him I love him. But tell him not to follow me. Tell him to be happy."

I closed my eyes.

"Thank you."

The last thing I remember hearing, before I fell into a dark and comforting sleep, was, "No, thank you Isabella Swan. No, Isabella Cullen."

For never was a story of more woe
Than this of Juliet and her Romeo.

Romeo and Juliet, Act V, Scene III