This isn't actually a witfit prompt. Thanks to Anne, Betsy, and Kayla who encouraged me to use my frustration at the lack of a prompt to write my next chapter.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Still not betad

prompt: frustrated

I lie in bed the next morning and can't remember a time when I didn't wake up exhausted and ready to immediately go back to bed.

Today is no exception.

I get up anyway and look out my bedroom window and into the backyard; I groan softly when I see the three or four inches of snow that has accumulated overnight. I drag myself to the bathroom to shower, then dress and make a pot of strong coffee.

As silly as it sounds, it's days like this I miss Jasper most. I miss having a partner, someone to share the burdens of everyday life. Like grocery shopping, keeping up with the laundry, getting the oil changed in the car.

Shoveling snow.

I'm getting better at taking care of those mundane details now. But I wish I don't have to be. I'm so very tired of doing it all alone. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Though if Jasper had lived, there was the possibility I would be doing this alone anyway.

I pour a cup of coffee, drink it quickly, then bundle myself up for the long morning of shoveling snow. I hope Mae sleeps a few more hours so I can get it all done without having to stop.

I pause when I notice a puddle in the foyer. I look up and see where it's coming from; there appears to be a leak in the roof. I sigh, wondering what else can possibly go wrong, and go hunt for a bucket. I find one in the basement, put it under the leak, and pray it doesn't get any worse. Just one more thing for me to handle on my own.

I open my front door and step out onto the front porch, but stop short once I take in the scene before me. What I'm seeing is unbelievable, yet undeniable.

My walk and front porch have been shoveled, and my car is clean. I consider magic, elves, and Jasper's ghost, but I know it's folly. I know who did this, and I look over to confirm my suspicions; the front of Edward's house is similarly shoveled clean.

My first feeling after disbelief is gratitude, which soon morphs into anger. Who is he to think I can't take care of my home and my child? I'm not some pathetic widow who needs charity – we've been getting along fine on our own. I turn on my heels and go into the house, slamming the door behind me.

I've been struggling every day since Jasper died–since he was diagnosed, really–to keep my head above water. I haven't always succeeded, but where I have, it's always been on my own merits. I despise people feeling sorry for me. I don't want anyone's pity.

When Mae wakes up we have a quiet breakfast and spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons. I want to go over and yell at the man next door and call him out on his presumptions about me, but I don't. Then I get frustrated at my lack of nerve. But I keep it all inside and put on a happy face for my daughter. I've failed her enough already.

At lunchtime there's a knock on our front door and I steel myself. We never have visitors and the only person who's knocked in the last few months has been new neighbors.

I fling open the door, and there's Edward, a smile on his face. "What do you want?" I ask angrily.

His smile falters and I instantly feel awful. He has one of those smiles that's contagious and carefree and I hate that I took it away. But I don't let that distract me. "If you're looking for some sort of thank you for doing what you did, you can forget it. I never asked you for anything."

His eyes take on a pained expression and I almost start to cry. I don't want to be this person. I want to thank him and invite him in for coffee and get to know him better. I want to make him to smile again.

But I don't know how.

"I'm sorry," he says softly. "Seth and I were going to grab lunch and we thought you and Mae might like to come." He pauses and runs a hand through his hair. "I guess not."

"No, thank you," I say. "The poor widow doesn't need your charity."

His eyes flash an almost angry green before softening again. "That might be the way you see yourself, but that's not what I see when I look at you."

"I do not...How dare you," I stutter out.

He just looks at me kindly and it's all I can do to not scream out in frustration and sorrow. This is the most emotion I've felt in months and I want to lash out at him for making me feel it.

"You need to leave," I choke out.

He nods his head and turns away from me.

I close the door behind him and walk back into the living room. "Mommy has to go upstairs for a minute," I say, not waiting for a response.

I throw myself on my bed, my body wracked by sobs. I don't know what to do or what to feel. I'm so very tired of being alone, but I'm afraid of the hurt that comes with caring about another person. I can't take another betrayal, another loss.

Being alone is safer.

Thank you for reading and for your kind reviews.

Just to clear something up since there seems to be a little confusion (which I'm sure is my fault), Edward lives in the house next door. The rest of the details will reveal themselves as we move along.

I probably won't update again until Monday, I have a busy weekend ahead of me.