I didn't sleep all night. Alice's words bounced around my head, endlessly echoing. Edward's face kept appearing every time I closed my eyes. But not the face of the man I loved—the man so desperately in love with me he couldn't bear to be without me. Wherever I was, he was there.
Close. Touching. Caressing, Kissing. Fucking. Passionate.
Alive.
Not the man whose face was one of total joy when I told him I was pregnant.
I had surprised him last Christmas with a pair of tiny socks. He had wept with happiness. Then he spent the next few months living up to his promise of taking care of me. Of us. Every day his face reflected his excitement and love when he kissed me, his hand resting on my ever-expanding bump. He had been ecstatic when we found out it was a boy, and we had chosen a name, once again in perfect agreement with each other.
We should have been celebrating our child's first Christmas together this year. Not alone and grieving.
No, the face I continued to see, was of the Edward I woke up to in the hospital. The man who bent close to tell me our son had died. The emotionless person who simply watched me as I screamed, "No!" and told me how he held our son's lifeless body and kissed him goodbye before they took him away. His impassive face, and dead eyes that stared through me, day after day, once I was home. He hired a caregiver to help me while I healed from my injuries, and he left me alone in our room, while he slept in the guest room.
The silence stretched out between us until it became a living, breathing entity, which pushed us further and further apart. We became two strangers living under the same roof. Strangers to each other, and ourselves.
I was at the kitchen table when he came home. He sat down across from me.
"I can't do this anymore."
I nodded, somehow not surprised by his words. Neither of us had any fight left in our heart.
"You can have the house."
I shook my head. There were too many memories there, and it had belonged to him first. "I don't want it. Sell it."
"What do you want, Bella?"
I studied him, noting he'd lost weight. I knew he wasn't sleeping. Neither of us were. We both barely existed. It was as if the death of our son had also been the death of who we were.
"I want my child."
He stood. "I can't give you that. Nothing I can do will make up for what you lost."
"What we lost."
He tilted his head. "What we lost."
I drew in a shuddering breath. "Now what?"
"I'm going to my parents. Take your time and find a place." He flicked his hand. "Take whatever you want. I won't fight you on anything."
He stood, laying an envelope on the table. "I spoke with Sam today. Here is a new bank account. Until we decide the next step, I'll put money in there every month for you. If you aren't able to go back to work, you don't have to worry. I'll take care of you financially."
I began to shake my head. His eyes darkened, and for the first time in weeks, I saw an emotion flicker in the green depths.
"Don't argue with me, Bella. Take it. The very least I can do is make sure you're taken care of from now on. I did a lousy job of it the past while."
Then he turned and walked away.
After packing a few things, he carried his bag to the front entrance, and without a backward glance or another word, he walked out of the door.
Still with me? Hugs...
Tomorrow.
