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Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews. I am so glad that you all seem to like my writing, it's so startling, words cannot explain how much so... :) Hope you enjoy this chapter.

One Month Later..

Life goes on, even with Edward in absence.

Everything quickly went back to the same old routine. I wake up, get dressed, meet Rosalie and Alice – and let's not forget Jasper, who was now practically joined to her hip – at school in the cafeteria. Then I go home, make dinner for Charlie, eat dinner with Charlie, and then I sleep.

Sleep...

Sleeping seemed to be the only thing I desired to do the most. Because sleep erases everything; sometimes I dream of him, his face, him being here with me. Sometimes I jolt awake and reach for him. Then I go back to sleep disappointed, because he's never there. It's always the same, but, then again, it's something entirely different – this wanting, this need...

I want him, and I need him. I realize that now.

In English class, we had to watch Romeo & Juliet for an upcoming essay.

I didn't remember how good a movie Romeo & Juliet was. I hardly heard a word of it. All I could seem to think about was Edward and where he was right now at this very moment, and what I overheard students saying about him. Wondering if things would work out all right between us, if it would have to end, when I really didn't even want it to.

I began to realize it didn't matter what others thought, about right and wrong. It only mattered how you felt personally and if I could be with anyone, despite how unnerving and painful it had been between us, I would have wanted to be with Edward. And only Edward.

After school, I found Charlie in the kitchen reading the newspaper. If anyone would know where Edward would be, it would have to be him. My father often talked to Edward's father, that I was almost certain; I would have to fish for the information subtly out of him. I did it after dinner. I made Charlie his favourite meal, and he looked genuinely pleased. I knew that if he was pleased, he would talk more...

"The Cullen family? Sure. I know Dr. Cullen," he says proudly when I raise the subject of the Cullen's with him. "He's a very wonderful surgeon."

I nod. "And his son?" I ask.

Charlie groans, shaking his head. "Not too sure about his kid; I don't go too much on him."

I sit up straighter in my seat at his words. "Why not?" I ask urgently.

"He's always been trouble. While Dr. Cullen's an asset to the community, his son runs around causing trouble. Almost feel sorry for them." He pauses for a moment, thinking. "I had my doubts, when they moved here, and it seems I was right. That boy ought to settle down and give his parents a break. They're not even his real parents, for Christ sake..."

I'm confused. "What do you mean?"

I can tell Charlie was puzzled by my sudden interest, but he didn't seem to think too much of it. "The kid was adopted when he was a young boy. Of course, I don't think he even knows that..." Charlie frowns. "From what I've heard from Dr. Cullen, it was the only choice they had – to adopt the kid. It was in real unsanitary conditions where he lived... His mother wasn't so fit to raise him. According to Dr. Cullen, she had a whole range of psychological problems."

I thought this through for a moment, staring down at my hands which were folded on the table. Did Edward know that he was adopted? I wondered what his real mother would have been like. Could it have been possible that she had the same sudden, changing temperament as Edward did? For some reason, I assumed it would be very doubtful.

"Where is their son?" I ask at last, the very question I had been wondering since the very start. "I mean, he used to go to school with me..." I shrug, trying to seem indifferent.

"I'm not too sure of that..." We stare at each other for a moment, Charlie deep in thought, frowning earnestly. My heart was pounding in anticipation. And then my father finally said the words I so needed to hear: "Think he moved in with one of the Cullen's' friends. A lady. I remember Dr. Cullen saying she has a house down near the Olympic Peninsula."

I woke up suddenly during the night. It was as if I had been shaken awake and I lay there for a long moment, taking deep breaths to get over the shock of Edward leaving. Then it hit me and I leapt out of bed, stubbing my toe on the bed post and hopping over to my bedside drawer. I flicked on the lamp.

The white thin paper which contained Edward's most inward thoughts about us being together lay exactly where I had placed it a month ago. I hadn't touched it since. I couldn't seem to bring myself to. But now I found I could. It was the only reminder, that despite everything, we may still have something special ahead of us.

I picked it up and unfolded it. My hands shook so much. In an instance, I was conflicted. I wanted to either burn the letter or tear it up. But I didn't. Because it was the only thing – the last hope - to cling on to.

I knew what I was going to do. I resolved to go visit Edward, even if he did get angry or protested against it as soon as he saw me. Because I was beginning to realize I couldn't even remember what his face looked like. I couldn't seem to remember anything. It scared me more than anything ever before.

Now that I knew where he was, I had to see him.

It took half an hour to drive to the Peninsula.

I was nervous. But mostly, I felt ill; ill because I wasn't sure what Edward would say or do when he saw me. But there was no denying I was excited about this. I needed this.

I needed him. And for some reason, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to find him.

I spotted Edward by the front door of the house. I didn't expect to see him there, out in the open, for some reason. It's amazing how much warmth and relief flooded through me at the mere sight of him. I couldn't see his eyes- he was wearing dark, tinted sunglasses and was holding a wooden acoustic guitar in his hands. I hadn't known he played; I assumed it was one of the many numerous unfortunate things I didn't know about him.

I realize a woman is standing with him, her back against the door. She looks older, about in her late twenties or early thirties. She is brunette, and beautiful in a very worldly way, tall and elegant. I was pitifully average in comparison, I was certain of it. I suddenly feel ashamed, that I am somehow intruding in on them, but I can't help but wonder who she is. What does she want with him? And, more importantly, has he moved on? Forgotten about me? Those were definitely the wrong questions to wonder about.

Of course, if he did move on and found somebody else, I could live through it. Or at least, I would have to.

It was bizarre, as if the roles had suddenly been reversed. I didn't realize how much I needed – or wanted – to be with Edward, until now.

I tried to control myself, reason with myself, as I slowly undid the buckle of my seatbelt. I tried to breathe slowly and deeply, willing my mind to think of nothing, but the reasons as to why I was here; to see Edward. To visit, even if it was the last time I ever would... if he has moved on with this other, older woman. I couldn't let my assumptions break me down. I would go over there, composed, and say hello. To both Edward and his new girlfriend. I wouldn't dare show how much this abrupt separation had affected me. At least not in front of them, I told myself. If I felt the need, I would grieve later in the privacy of my own room.

The sudden feelings of inconsolable loss wouldn't seem to leave me as I hopped out of my truck.

I took my time crossing the road. My hands began to shake.

As I get closer to the front of the house, I realize they aren't kissing or anything else for that matter. Suddenly, there didn't seem to be any kind of intimacy between them. They are just talking; Edward is using his free hand to emphasize whatever it is he is saying to the older woman, his guitar tucked underneath his arm. Then her impassive face lights up as she looks into my direction. Who was she? Was she his mother or a close family friend, perhaps?

There was denying I was suddenly hit with a bad dose of jealousy.

But I couldn't seem to suppress my doubts. If it was true – the worst case scenario – in which Edward had, in fact, already moved on barely within a month, I would try to go along with it. I would pretend no feelings had ever surfaced for him. I would act in an agreeable, friendly, accepting way.

The woman begins to walk over to me. Strutting, more like it. I wasn't certain if Edward had discovered me standing there or not; I couldn't see past her.

"Bella?" she asks in a quiet, puzzled voice, as though she might be wrong. Was she expecting somebody else? Was he expecting somebody else?

I hesitate, standing by the gate. "Yes," I say once I manage to finally find my voice. She opens it and beckons me in quickly with one whisk of her hand.

Along with the fear and confusion that was now beginning to pulsate through me, I was beginning to grow impatient. I so desperately needed answers to my minds restless questions. Who was this woman? Has Edward already moved on? Why is he living here with her?

"Bella?"

My heart stopped for one single second as I heard his gentle voice. It was laced with confusion, and surprise. I found I couldn't seem to look in his direction. I was afraid of what I might see, what it might do to me...

"Bella Marie Swan?"

There was a loud thud of something heavy being placed against concrete, and then came the warm inviting feeling of someone's hand's grasping my waist. I couldn't ignore him any longer. He was closer to me than I expected. It was Edward. Edward's arms, around my waist, and when I looked up, I found him watching my face attentively, his green eyes twinkling.

It was then that I realized if this woman was in fact Edward's new girlfriend, she probably wouldn't have liked the way he was looking at me, the way he was holding my body tightly against his. She would have been in a huff about it. She would have most likely stormed off, or demanded an explanation, even.

She did neither.

It was then that I realized my questions didn't need to be verbally answered. Because with the way he was looking at me, it sent a reassuring tingling turmoil in my stomach. I ignored the older woman, who was lingering around in the background behind me, and flung my arms around Edward's neck, practically jumping up and attacking him. I didn't seem to care that there was someone there, witnessing me hugging him.

I missed Edward and now I had finally been given the chance to see him once again, simultaneously restoring his face and body into my mind. And nothing else seemed to matter except this, except our long awaited, joyous reunion. In this very moment, everything felt surreal, so right. Perfect. I didn't know how long it would last... And I didn't seem to want to waste time pondering.

"Oh, Bella..." Edward whispers in my ear gently, as I clung onto him for dear life.

"I'm sorry. I've just missed you!" My face suddenly feels wet, something trickling down my cheeks. It dawns on me that I must be crying. Great. It wasn't something I expected. And I didn't anticipate it being so arduous to let Edward go and release him. My body seemed to stick to him like glue, never wanting to separate.

I tried to soak up whatever little dignity I had left as I slipped my arms away from his neck and wiped my eyes, composing myself. I found the woman grinning broadly at our antic.

Edward looked acutely embarrassed, running a hand across his face, his cheeks a slight pink tinge. "Uh, Bella, this is Irina," he explains, gesturing toward the older woman. "Irina – this is my Bella. The girl I've been mentioning about..." My heart was pounding as I caught the way he said my name, full of ownership, as though I was personally his and not for anyone else.

The woman laughs as she regards me warmly, a pleasant sound. "Oh, yes. So this is the infamous Isabella Marie Swan that I keep hearing about?"

I look over at Edward at her words to find him looking down at his sneakers abashedly, before stuffing his hands into his jean pockets, his cheeks still flushed pink. A small, strained smile was threatening to pull up the corners of his mouth.

I couldn't help but beam proudly at her words. "Um, yes," I mumble uncertainly, wringing my hands nervously. "I don't exactly know what Edward has been saying about me to you, but yes..."

She laughs again. "Don't worry." She touches my arm confidentially. "It's all been very good things. Edward never says a bad word about anybody. Do you, Edward?" She motions at him with a hand furtively, inviting him into the conversation.

Edward chuckles his low, lovely laugh at her words and I found that I had missed hearing it. "Um, yeah," he says, sarcastically. He meets my gaze, his brows furrowed. "Isabella and I are going into my room now," he says to her quickly, meaningfully, taking my hand suddenly, to my upmost surprise. He gives me a quick, breathtaking smile before pulling me along, carefully stepping over his guitar that was resting on the pavement near the doorway as we went.

He lets go of my hand when we reach the long hallway of the house. "So, why exactly are you here, love?" Edward asks, and the question surprises me. I thought he knew why. I could hear the unmistakable tension in his voice.

I pause, confused. "Do you want me to leave?" I ask, feeling suddenly hurt.

Edward turns on his heel to look me directly in the face. I couldn't help but notice there was something different about him, but I couldn't exactly pinpoint what that difference was. Then I realized it was his eyes. "Honestly? Yes." His harsh sincerity startled me – that wasn't what I expected he would say.

"Oh." It was all I could manage. I try to breathe slowly, to get over the sudden shock, studying his handsome face. I saw that there was no contradiction in his words; he actually wanted me to leave...

"I would appreciate it," he continues when I can't seem to say anything articulate or move. I could tell he was trying to be very patient with me. His voice this time was encouraging. Not so much a blatant command, but a suggestion.

The knife of realization sinks in deeper; he obviously has moved on. He doesn't want me anymore. That's the only possible explanation to it...

Suddenly, my plans of acting composed and accepting about it went straight out the window. I felt my bottom lip start to quiver.

I hear Edward sigh loudly, obviously waiting and beginning to lose his patience. He slips closer in front of me and stands there; just looking at me, his painfully gorgeous face the only thing in my world right now.

"Hmm." Edward makes a show of gasping, and then laughs, somehow breaking the tension. "I can always carry you out in my loving arms..." How could he be so cruel and heartless to laugh and joke at me right now? Then the humour suddenly disappears as fast as it came. "Bella?" he regards me very seriously now. He lifts his hands slowly and starts playing with a strand of my hair, twirling it into a little knot with his fingers. "I don't want you to leave," he says, his voice dropping so low that I wasn't even certain if I imagined him saying it or not.

"It's fine." My voice came out as a whisper unintentionally. "I understand." I try to make my tone of voice much brighter, but it doesn't seem to work. "I'll just go..."

I wonder what he sees on my face, if my hurt truly is that transparent, because he suddenly looks uncomfortable. "Bella, I don't want you to leave. It was a joke – a very poor, tasteless one." He sounds sincere, at least. "I'm only concerned that when the time does come for you to leave, I won't be able to let you..."

"Well, you don't have to be concerned." I try to sound confident and optimistic for him, but my voice comes out only slightly high-pitched with relief at his confession. I try to change the subject. "So, why are you living here with... Irina exactly?" I glance back down the long hallway, anywhere but at him, so he can't notice that I'm worried and, unsurprisingly a little jealous by this.

"Irina is a close friend of my fathers," Edward explains quietly. "She allowed me to stay here for a month or two, until I get settled with my treatment. It was very generous of her..."

"Yes," I agree, satisfied with his answer. "But why treatment?" I look up at Edward, searching for any giveaway sign by the expression on his face.

He frowns at me, then shakes his head. "Um, medication," I thought I heard him mumble quite inaudibly, before turning on his heel and entering one of the rooms of the house. I follow closely behind him, innocently observing the room.

It looks as if a nuclear bomb has exploded in here. There is a large double bed dominating the room, two bedside tables positioned next to it with all the drawers' open and loose papers hanging out. There's even a bundle of dirty socks on the end of the bed. The emerald green carpet, in which I observe so pitifully, matches the colour of Edward's eyes, is absolutely covered in pieces of paper, some blank and some with his extravagant handwriting on them.

"Uh, please excuse the clutter," Edward says with a laugh and when I meet his gaze, he actually looks quite pleased with himself. I couldn't imagine why.

I try to look dissaproving, but can't contain a smile at the defiant, proud look on Edward's face. "Does Irina know about this?" I ask, on the verge of laughter.

He darts me a wry look. "No. Why would she?" He suddenly groans at something. "Uh, would you mind standing over here for just one minute while I gather a few things?" He suddenly looks distracted, on edge, before bolting over toward me and kneeling down, collecting some of the papers on the carpet next to me.

I suddenly start feeling paranoid. Why was Edward being so secretive? I caught sight of one of the papers before he could hide it from me. It was drawing. A drawing of a young girl, with dark flowing hair that seemed to cover the side of her face like a curtain. But who was she? Was she... me?

"Okay," Edward says quietly, absentmindedly, before standing, towering over me. "Um, how would you like to stay for dinner?" he asks to my surprise, and then I settle myself in for a long, pleasant evening with Edward.