I apologize beforehand because of the almost non-existant dialogue in this chapter. I myself hate this type of blablabla chapters in which time is frozen still and all you get is thoughts, descriptions, thoughts, thoughts. But it was a necessary chapter, since many of you were wondering what IS Edward actually thinking when he acts so emo.

And besides, because it contains the unexpected.

Carlisle was afraid he was doing the wrong thing? But then, that means it ended up being the right thing. And look how happy he is. He does have the perfect life, a life anyone would envy – a lovely wife, two responsible sons – well, only one – and an incredible daughter who just got married to the love of her life. He has anything he needs. He's got love, admiration, and he doesn't regret having married my mother. It all leads up to one thing, then? Me, getting married to Rosalie? All the rivers lead to the same ocean… Will I have a happy life with her, just as Carlisle? Will I learn to love… and forget? Rosalie, Bella, Rosalie, Bella, Bella, Bella…

But there is this nagging question in the corner of my mind…

Why was Carlisle afraid of doing the wrong thing?

The ceremony was short and simple. To Edward, at least. Although Rosalie had chosen the most lavishing dress, the most expensive flowers, and had prepared the most amazing celebration, for Edward, everything was plain and dull. Maybe it was because he was trying to drown his head from all feeling, leaving him with a numb sensation in the whole of his body. And frankly, he did not care, or was hitherto impressed, of his luxurious surroundings. He did not even steal a glance at Rosalie, who looked simply astonishing in her long, white dress, with her chest bare, her exquisite collarbone and shoulders being too much a temptation for any other man, and her long, slender arms covered with the sleeves of her dress. He practically did not hear the question to which he replied, shortly and dryly, 'I do.' He just about felt nothing when Rosalie's perfect lips clashed against his in a clumsy kiss before turning around and facing the crowd of applauding strangers and family. Rosalie smiled at them contentedly; Edward did not. With a look in her face that expressed her feeling of, 'I don't want to be here but I'll smile for my brother's sake,' Alice walked gracefully before them as the newlyweds walked down the aisle to the outside, her hands spreading rose petals as she passed by. Edward saw Esme beam at him, and Carlisle nod with pleasure. Emmett was too busy gaping at Rosalie to even glance at him, and though everybody noticed this, nobody saw the blonde's little answering smile.

The day passed slowly, unnoticed. Once again, for Edward, at least. Rosalie carried him around the Hale's mansion, showing him off like a trophy she had earned after a long, hard battle. It was a relief that no one knew that the real battle had been short and quick for her. A few words from Rosalie Hale could get her whatever she wanted now.

They chatted with persons of wealth they did not know – well, Rosalie did most of the talking – and they danced the opening piece. And at last, he was off in a carriage with his flaming new wife, destination: anywhere. He had lost track of time and space by now, so absorbed in his thoughts as he was. And this is why, when he was inside a bed in an unfamiliar room beside Rosalie, he did not notice what was coming next until he felt Rosalie's hand on his chest.

'Edward?'

He turned his face from the ceiling and looked at her, realizing she was completely naked under the sheets. He had not even noticed her undressing herself and getting in beside him. Rosalie as she had come into the world – a view any man would kill for. And he had her there, exactly at his side, and the idea did not even appeal to him.

'Are you okay, Edward?' Rosalie whispered in his ear, snuggling closer to him and surrounding his torso with her arm. 'You look so tired. Well, who wouldn't. It was a tiring day, but beautiful in every sense. I'm glad it's over, at least. Are you?'

'Definitely,' Edward whispered back, closing his eyes. He could feel Rosalie's every curve against his skin – and instead of giving him pleasurable chills like Isabella Swan's once had, he just felt numb.

'Edward,' she whispered his name again, this time closer in his ear, her lips moving against his earlobe.

'Make love to me.'

Edward opened his eyes again, slowly, and saw Rosalie's face just above his. He had no time to deliberate – if he did, it was going to be more than obvious that for him, making love with Rosalie was an idea that repulsed him. Not because Rosalie was ugly in his eyes – he admitted it, Rosalie was beautiful. But to share this intimacy with someone else rather than Bella, than sweet Bella…

He had chosen this path. And he had to do everything this path commanded.

He pressed his lips against hers, and surrounded her slim figure with his strong arms, poising himself above her, kissing her face, caressing her smooth skin... And so, the consummation of their marriage was done. It was, at the same time, hell and heaven. Heaven, because imagined he was doing this with Bella, he imagined it was her body he was joining with his own, it was her who sighed his name again and again, they were together again, together doing the act of utmost love. Hell, because it wasn't Bella. He was just fooling himself. And every time he realized this, the caressing, the kissing, the sweetness stopped, and became monotonous, until he was able to let himself drift into fantasy again.

He woke up in the middle of the night, and remembered suddenly. He was in Vancouver, in a hotel which, now that he analyzed the room, must have been chosen by Rosalie because of its luxury. The woman lay beside him, fast asleep, angelic for anyone who was not already deeply in love. Softly, he got out of the bed and headed to the bathroom, which was just as beautiful as his bedroom. He leaned against the cool wall and sighed, glad he was not in physical contact with his wife. Would he have to do this for the rest of his life? He hoped not. The idea of visiting heaven again was tempting indeed… but he had a feeling that the next time, he would not be able to imagine Bella. It would just become a routine to perform before going to sleep every night.

He took his hand to the bridge of his nose, and a movement in the room caught his attention. A strange man looked up at him. Yet, even in the darkness that surrounded him, he seemed somewhat familiar… He got closer and realized Edward Cullen was staring back at him from inside the mirror. And he looked different from the Edward he remembered. His green eyes, once bright and sparkly, were now a dull, lifeless green. His forehead was creased by an everlasting frown, and the corners of his mouth twitched into an unhappy expression.

Overall, he looked haunted. He was. Haunted by the morals of his world, the inability to distinguish right from wrong and vice-versa, the loss of the only person he would ever love, the image of that person leaving him, going away, far away, most probably to escape from him, because he had hurt her, had he not, with his lies, his lies mixed with the truths, everything so mixed up that not even himself could make a difference between what was real and what was not, and it was his fault, his fault she had left, his fault she was now, probably, in another man's arms – was she? Had she found comfort in someone else? He would never know – he would never know if she got married, if she had an accident, if she had a baby, if she passed away. He was condemned to live, from the moment she stepped out of his domains, in ignorance, just imagining, fantasizing, his mind always living in the 'what ifs'…

He was taken over by sudden fury, fury at himself, at Rosalie, at Bella, at his family, at his friends, his society, his name – but the rage he felt for himself was beyond any of the rest. He clenched his right hand in a fist and before he knew what he was doing, he had hit the reflected Edward and he was falling in pieces to the sink.

A gasp came from the other room, and suddenly Rosalie was beside him, a gown thrown over her bare body, staring at him in surprise and concern.

'Edward, what is going on?' she demanded, her eyes dancing from the broken mirror to her husband.

Edward sighed and closed his eyes. 'Tripped over. I'm sorry I woke you up, Rose. Go to sleep, I'll pay for this first thing tomorrow morning.'

Rosalie didn't move. 'Your hand in bleeding,' she said quietly.

He grabbed the nearest towel he could find and pressed it against his injured hand. 'I'm fine. Thank you,' he smiled at her, and she seemed to relax.

'Come back to bed when you're done, dear,' she smiled back, but her smile fell quickly. She turned away and left, leaving Edward alone.

The young man picked up the broken pieces slowly, one by one. He grabbed a particularly large piece of mirror and stared at himself again, his expression darkening…

'I hate you.'

I am so sure you were all expecting to see Edward walking from the church to find Bella! Hahaha!

Green button, green button, green button...

Much Love,

Me :3

PS: This is the type of sex scene Breaking Dawn absolutely lacks. At least it's not a fade out!