I had to add the alternative spelling of Stephenie to my Word dictionary purely for these disclaimers.


A World of One

The word tore from Rosalie's throat; it was menacing, full of loathing. Her tone was injected with so much venom that her fiancée took a step back. Her wrath was primarily directed at me and I also felt myself shrinking away.

"Rosalie," Jasper said from beside me. She turned to him and the two studied each other, taking in every detail: - the scowl on her face, the worry on his. The hurt in her eyes, the disappointment in his. Her eyebrows pulled down in a frown, his pulled down from nerves. Never had the two resembled each other as much as they did at that moment.

"Rosalie," he said again, and her expression softened.

I was, to be completely honest, unsure of what I should do with myself. Sitting would draw attention to my position, as would to remain standing. I felt uncomfortable and awkward, almost as though I was intruding. Which I was. I had essentially gate-crashed a wedding, but this was irrelevant.

"Rosalie, please," I pleaded, my voice straining. None of us had managed to take into account our audience; the room full of people that separated us. Rosalie in the spotlight, Jasper and I huddled in the shadows. "Rosalie, your family needs you."

"What family?" she spat.

"You've got me," Jasper whispered. "You've got Bella."

Rosalie did not appear to find me of suitable family material, and her face wrinkled. "What about Emmett?" she asked.

I blinked. I did not want to be in this situation: everything was awful and horrific and broken. Everything and everyone was miserable and I hated it.

"Emmett?" Jasper asked. "That man you walked away from?"

"Oh, you filthy little hypocrite. What about Alice?"

"Who's Emmett? Who're these people?" Rosalie's fiancée, who had been silent before now, piped up.

I did not want to be in this situation. Everything was fucking horrific, everything was broken and everybody was miserable. And I hated it.

Rosalie distractedly nodded at us, refusing to remove her eyes from Jasper. "My brother and Bella."

"Your brother? You said your family was dead."

"Dead?" Jasper confronted, voice angry.

"I didn't say they were dead. I said they were gone," Rosalie tried to amend.

"You said they were dead."

"Gone? You left us," Jasper said with disbelief.

"So did you," she sneered back.

"I was doing what was best for the family," Jasper said.

I found myself looking out around the crowd, who had resulted to swivelling their heads back and forth from Rosalie to Jasper, or else to glance at their neighbour with a frantic expression. It was, I noted, reminiscent of a poorly crafted soap-opera. They whispered amongst themselves, and I envied their position. Tonight they would return to their families, fresh with gossip featuring the confrontation at the wedding. They'd come home to meals and beds and jobs and friends. They'd have meaning. They'd have structure.

"What was best for the family," Rosalie scoffed. "What was best. Have you honestly any idea, Jasper? Have you literally any idea, in that gloriously ignorant brain of yours, what you did to our family? Can you literally comprehend the utter pile of shit that resulted once you'd left? Have you any idea of what you did to your wife? To Alice? Do you realise how crushed Esme was, how broken Carlisle felt? Because allow me to assure you, Whitlock, it wasn't for the 'best' of the family; it was simply you being a big, fat coward.
"I get that you're frightened, or ashamed. Really, I do. And running away, really, I get it. I do. Look at me, dressed in white. I'm in no position to judge you. But don't you dare assume, Jasper, that what you did was for the greater good. Don't you dare assume that what you did was for the 'best', or that what you did was okay. Because it wasn't, Jasper. And now look where we are."

After Rosalie concluded, a horrible silence fell. I found myself wishing, for the umpteenth time, that I was somewhere else. That I was not in this situation, that I did not have to witness this.

"S-she doesn't mean that," I mumbled.

"How the hell would you know what I mean?" Rosalie glowered.

"Stop," Jasper said, voice weak.

Rosalie leant slightly forward, mouth forming a perfect o as a look of disgust flittered across her face. "Jasper, what happened to your eyes?"

This was awful. This was not happening, it simply was not happening.

"W-well . . ."

"Who's Emmett?" the fiancée repeated.

"Your eyes," Rosalie said again, her voice surprisingly gentle.

"Who's Emmett, Rose?"

She turned towards her fiancée, an impatient frown on her face. "He's my husband."

"Wh-what . . .?"

"I can't continue this ceremony," the celebrant decided.

"We should go," I whispered to Jasper. He nodded.

"Emmett is my husband," Rosalie said, as though speaking the words would enforce the point. "He's . . . amazing and funny and, and he puts up with me! And I really, truly love him. And I walked out on him, I hurt him. He's my husband and my best friend. And I'm really, truly sorry, Josh. I'm sorry that I'm putting you under this position. You'll find somebody, you're a nice man. I promise. I'm sorry."

Rosalie gathered the hem of her dress so that she could walk clearly, before taking a small step back down the aisle, avoiding the flower petals and disapproving, disgraced glares from the audience.

That step meant a lot.

It meant moving on.
Change.
Entering a new stage in her life.
It meant forgiveness.
And strength.
Courage.
And it meant hope.


Author's Note: the 'greater good' line bears far too much resemblance to Grindelwald. I feel like a criminal for stealing from the HP fandom.