DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property to the respective author. The original characters and plot are the property of Stephenie Meyer (and Wicker Park). No copyright infringement is intended.

*All the mistakes are mine*

April 23, 2011

12:06 PM

Wicker Park

Damen Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

"Bella!" I spied her across the park standing with a couple of her friends. She was wearing my beanie. The purple knitted one. I bought it for her on our second date. God, she looked beautiful today. And like always, my reaction to seeing her was the same. Walk faster. Get closer. Breathe her in. "Bella."

She turned and smiled. It was genuine and real and all for me. The ladies in her dance company knew me. I hung around often enough and soon came to be known as Bella's boyfriend. That was a title I gladly wore. They were nice, and I think partly it was due to the fact that Bella never told them how we met or how I stalked her. That was my shame and our little secret.

Stopping short, I waited a few feet away from her and her friends, not wanting to barge in on their conversation. But I didn't hide the urgency in my stance, jumping up and down and rocking back and forth on my heels. It was half excitement to talk to her, but mostly survival. It was cold out here, subzero temperatures, and I had to keep my blood moving in my veins.

Bella said something to them that I couldn't hear and then came over to me. "Hey!"

"Hey, baby." I held her face in my hands and kissed her. A hint of cinnamon lingered on her lips and it scorched my throat with need. I fought against the urge to taste her again. "How are you?"

"What are you doing here?"

"I gotta talk to you." I rubbed her arms in an effort to create friction and keep us both warm.

She frowned, glancing back at her friends. They stared at her with a ticking clock in their eyes. "Now?"

I knew she had a class to get to, but this couldn't wait—no, more like I couldn't wait. The thing about me was my impulsivity. Bella made me act without thought. She was all gut to me.

"Yeah, it's kind of important." I gave her an apologetic shrug. "You wanna go get a drink or something? It's freezing out here."

She debated with my offer, weighing her options, but finally conceded. "Yeah, okay."

"Good." I grinned, throwing my arm over her shoulders and pulling her into my side. The closeness was to keep her warm and secure. The kiss to her forehead was just for me.

April 23, 2011

12:27 PM

Division Street, Chicago, Illinois

We ordered a Guinness from the tap and sat in the back of the bar. Bella's curiosity burned through her eyes, but she stayed patient and politely waited for me to get it out. I was nervous—so fucking nervous. Sweat was pouring out of me and I couldn't stop squirming in my chair. I didn't know how she would react or what she would say. Emmett told me to stop being a pussy all the time. It was easier said than done.

If I screwed this up with her, I don't know…what I would do.

"Relax." Bella smiled, covering my hands with hers. "It's just me here."

"I know, and what I gotta say…" I searched down deep for my balls. They were tucked up tight. There was no easy way to say it. This thing on the tip of my tongue was a huge deal, for not only me, but for her as well. "It's just…" I grabbed my beer and chugged it down.

"What is it?" Bella's patience ran out and now she was concerned. I knew she was probably thinking the worst.

"My friend gave my stuff to the head of this agency," I blurted. She nodded slowly, urging me to continue. "He liked it. He offered me a job in New York."

Bella's eyes got wide and she grinned. "That's great!"

It was a supportive response, and she looked thrilled, but it wasn't what I wanted from her. I wanted—fuck! I didn't know what I wanted from her. All I knew if she was offered a job in New York or wherever, I'd be proud of her at first, but upset about her possibly moving away from me.

I wouldn't be able breathe without her.

But Bella only smiled and encouraged me.

I tried to hide my disappointment. "It'll help me pay my rent, but…"

"But what? Why not?"

There were many reasons on why I didn't want to go New York. My home was in Chicago. I grew up here. My family and friends were all here. But even those things would never keep me away from furthering my dream. They understood and supported that. Those smiles and encouragement would give me the courage to go.

There was only one thing in this world I'd give up everything for.

"Move in with me."

"What?" Bella chuckled and glanced away.

Placing my hand on the side of her face to redirect her gaze back on me, I felt the smoothness of her skin under my fingertips. She was lovely and bashful. Her eyes this deep, entrancing brown, always looked through me and past my bullshit. I could be myself around her. All my obsessive ticks and verbal idiocy didn't matter because she loved me.

She was everything I wanted and needed in this life.

"I…I know it's only been a couple of months, but I just…" My heart pounded and bled for her. That was one thing I was sure of. "You're the reason I don't wanna move to New York. I wanna make my life here with you."

It was quiet for a beat and I searched her face, looking for any signs that she would say yes, but she moved away from my touch long before I could read her.

"Look, I am really late for rehearsal. Can we talk about this tomorrow?"

The tone in her voice and the look in her eyes were distant and cold. Something happened and it changed in her. It was quick, unexpected, and drastic.

My hand fell limply to my lap and I slumped back in my chair. "Sure."

"Edward, trust me, okay?" She rubbed my leg in an effort to comfort and assure me. "Everything is going to be fine." She stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder. "Just meet in the park tomorrow. Same time."

"Yeah," I nodded and stared at her beer. It was half gone. The foam was flat. It was probably stale. How can that be? She only started drinking it ten minutes ago. Maybe I was over thinking it.

"Bye," she whispered and kissed my cheek.

My brain didn't even register her lips until she was already gone. I was in a daze, and I turned to watch her leave. Time slowed down. Every step she took put distance between us, and I should have followed, but I couldn't move. My eyes were fixed in one spot where she walked out of the bar. Even long after she was out of my sight, I continue to scrutinize the door.

There was this unease in my gut. It gnawed at me. I could see the marked change in her eyes, but I tried to ignore it. She needed time to digest my proposal. That's all. I'd sprung on her too fast. It was just like the other day when I asked her to marry me.

Yeah, that's all it was…shock. I should have eased her into it. Why couldn't I wait until her second beer? Bella absorbed things better when she had a few beers in her…or was that wine?

Fuck!

Relax, Cullen. She'll come back to me. I needed to calm down and not jump to conclusions. Bella loved me. She did. I knew that more than anything. Everything was going to be fine.

I trusted her.

Four beers, and many patrons later, I paid the tab and left.

April 24, 2011

3:00 PM

Wicker Park

Damen Avenue, Chicago, Illinois

Today has been hell for me. I was exhausted, first off, and work was mind numbing. It was the same shit all the time with stupid customers and their ridiculous technical problems.

How many times did I have to bite my tongue with them?

I lost count.

These people—Jesus Christ!

Look, asshole, you own a camera that cost you fifty bucks, no fucking wonder it's a piece of digital crap. If you wanted something worth a damn, you would have ponied-up the dough and bought yourself a Nikon D7000. We sell six of them!

When I wasn't openly berating customers on their ignorant choices of cameras, I was thinking about Bella and her reaction to my news.

That was the root of my problem.

The more I thought about it the worse it kept on getting. My insecurity flared, and I had countless panic attacks. Every few minutes I would run into the side room and use my inhaler. It's been awhile since I've had exacerbation of my asthma, but yesterday afternoon triggered it and I couldn't breathe.

And Bella never did call me. The phone sat silent on my nightstand. I watched it, willing it to ring, but it never did.

As result, I didn't sleep well…if at all.

It was cold in the park. Chicago in April was fairly warm, but this year the winter lasted longer and it was bitter. The snow caked the streets and the air dropped to a staggering below zero degrees.

I waited for her at our spot, pacing for awhile, hoping to keep me warm. It worked for the first few minutes, but then I got tired. There was a three or four benches inside a wrought iron canopy. The vines grew over the bars and interweaved themselves, and in the summer it was a gorgeous sight. It created a shade. But winter set in and all the green was gone, leaving a brown and lifeless twig.

I broke a few in my hands, needing something to expunge my frustrations.

Then the wind blew and silenced me. The canopy didn't create much of a shelter. It wasn't why I was there. This was a place Bella and I would come and eat hot dogs. It became our tradition. I'm not sure how it started. Maybe we'd met here a few times out of necessity or coincidences until it became our thing.

Now it was just me. I never felt more removed from Bella.

Where was she? I was early, but it was already twenty past the hour, and she would have been here by now. Bella was a stickler about being on time. It was cute and annoying at times, especially when I was running late (which was quite often).

It wasn't something I did purposely. I got distracted and caught up in my own bullshit. If I didn't wear a watch to remind me, I don't think I'd ever be remotely on time to anything.

But now I wish I'd shown up late.

Forty minutes have gone by and still no Bella. I didn't panic. Not yet. I just tried to keep myself warm. That's why I paced. Making foot trails in the snow, I shuffled back and forth.

My heart pounded when anyone entered the park and plummeted when I saw it wasn't Bella. Trust me, she said. Everything was going to be fine, she said. She loved me, she said. She wanted to have kids with me in France, she said.

"Where are you?" I said.

It was four now. She was an hour late. My mind raced with thoughts from the most extreme, like her being hurt, to the most logical, like her being caught up in rehearsal. Dancing was important to Bella. That was her passion. She did it beautifully. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone came by and swept her away from me.

I would follow her. She would never have to ask me. There was nothing I wouldn't do for her.

My life didn't mean much if she wasn't in it.

A chill, and then five o'clock rolled around. I double checked my watch. It was lying to me. That shit had to be broken. Time was moving too slowly for it the hands to be working that fast.

I asked a stranger who walked by, and he confirmed what I tried to deny. It was that late. The sun was setting behind the buildings. The temperature dropped a few more degrees. I was frozen to the bench. Bella stood me up. Nothing made sense. What if I was wrong and she didn't love me—no!

I pushed that nagging voice aside that told me what I didn't want to hear.

Taking two puffs off of my inhaler, I decided to stop being a passive player in this relationship and go demand Bella to give me a yes or no answer.

April 24, 2011

5:20 PM

Leavitt Street, Chicago, Illinois

I went to several places before going to her apartment first. She wasn't there. So then I went to the dance academy. It was my last resort and my only hope. It was in full swing when I arrived. The music was thumping loud and there were numerous dancers on the stage. None of them had the poise or grace of Bella. I didn't even have to ask. She wasn't here. She was nowhere it seemed. This didn't seem right and it worried me.

Where could she be?

My worst fear was looking more and more like a possibility.

I found her dance director and pulled him aside. "Have you seen Bella?"

He looked annoyed by my intrusive behavior, but I didn't give a shit. My only concern was finding my girl.

"Bella? She's gone on a European tour of Cabaret."

I shook my head. Gone? She left…to Europe? These words were foreign to me. The director didn't notice the pain on my face, or if he did, he chose to overlook it.

"Yeah, it happened real fast," he said, feeling the need to further explain. "They came to our rehearsal and just picked her out, and she was gone."

Gone…there was that word again. It hurt twice as much. I could feel the ache, but I pushed it down. Swallowing every bit of it, because I needed to understand how she could have left.

Sure, I could see.

I'd imagined her leaving in a hurry, going home and packing her things up. I saw it as clearly as he stood in front of me. What I couldn't see was her leaving without telling me. She knew I was waiting in the park for her since three this afternoon. My thoughts were scrambled, attempting to find reason in her actions. I came up stumped.

"Like…" My voice cracked a little and I cleared my throat, "did she say anything before she left?"

He shrugged. "Like what?"

"Like, uh…" But what was I going to say? Did she mention her boyfriend she was leaving behind? I doubted it. This guy didn't know anything. I wasn't going to get the answers here. "Cool. Thanks, man."

There was one last place I knew Bella might have left me something.

I went home.

April 24, 2011

5:45 PM

Street Paul, Chicago, Illinois

The red zero on my answering machine will always haunt me. No messages were left. Bella didn't call. She didn't leave a note. I had no proof that she even loved me. There was nothing at my apartment but the lingering scent of her perfume. I stood in my hallway for a long time, jamming my keys into my palm and staring at the door.

No one knocked.

All was silent, except for my hoarse and shallow breathing.

I needed some Albuterol to open my lungs, but I'd used the last bit of it running over here. The inhaler was empty. I threw it across the room. It bounced off the floor and hit the wall. It didn't have the damaging impact I'd hoped for. Unlike me, it was still completely intact. The plastic didn't chip or break away.

My mind was cracking. It split at the seams and I needed to destroy something. The anger was building up. That was the second stage of grief. I'd spent the entire day denying and ignoring the signs. When I asked Bella to move in with me, she hesitated. The fear in her eyes wasn't easily seen at the time. I was stupefied and blinded by her proximity. If I would have seen it, I wouldn't have let her walk out on me.

She was there. I felt her. I had her. I let her go.

Now she was gone, without a word.

I stumbled into my room, almost taken down by Bella's overwhelming presence. Her face was everywhere. Countless pictures I'd taken of her over the last few months were stapled to the wall above the head of my bed into a collage. I didn't think about my obsession or how all these pictures would be construed.

Bella was my muse.

She was my everything.

I closed my eyes to that face and dreamt of her smile.

Now it was mocking me.

Stripping it clean, I tore every picture from the wall into little pieces. The pile on my bed grew bigger and bigger, but I couldn't stop. I couldn't look at her anymore. Every look at those striking eyes and beautiful smile broke me further. My sanity was barely hanging on.

Once I lost that, my heart would be the next to go.

It took me one minute and forty seconds to destroy what took me three months to create. Panting for air, I staggered back and stared at the empty wall. The pictures were ripped up and now a mounting, discarded heap on my bed.

It was final.

Bella and I were over.

She left me without a word and I didn't know why.

All I knew was pain. It crept in slow, almost insidiously, and grew until it was crushing me. My heart was being squeezed and snatched out of my chest. I bled and bled, feeling the man who loved without boundaries or fear seep into the floorboards and disappear.

Pushing the torn pieces of my Bella off the bed, I pulled the covers over my head and let the tears fall. Once I started, I couldn't stop. This was the hardest I'd cried. It hurt to breathe, and soon my gasps of air became sobs. My whole life revolved around her. I'd given up everything just to be with her, because I was going to marry her. We were going move to France and make wine together. She was going to be the mother of my dull-haired kids.

That was the plan.

I wanted that with her.

Why didn't she want that with me?

AN: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I know nothing really makes sense now, but the point is that it will by the end of the story. In the meantime, I hope you're having fun and enjoying the mystery.

A special thanks to Brian, my pre-reader and beastie for life. You're my tattoo dealer and I love it.