Jo & Belladonna - this one's for you. Matthew 7:7 - ask, and it will be given to you. LOL yes, I had to google that bible verse. But y'all, Body of Christ updated today. GO READ IT.

Three Months Later

"How are you today?" Emily asks.

I really think about this, instead of answering right off the bat. "I'm… okay. Feeling a little discouraged, but… some days are better than others."

"Is there anything you wanted to address today, or would you like me to take the floor?"

"I'll let you start off, and if anything comes up, I'll chime in."

Her smile is friendly. "Okay. Did you listen to the guided meditation I sent you last week?"

"I tried. It's hard." I wring my hands together.

"Hard how?"

"My mind wanders a lot. I don't know if I'm really getting anything out of it yet."

She nods. "It takes practice, for sure. Your mind will wander. That's natural. When that happens, just acknowledge it and jump back in."

I take a deep breath. "I started doing yoga again."

"Without the added distractions?" she asks lightly, smiling.

"Right. I didn't listen to any podcasts or watch TV while doing the practice. Even though multi-tasking is so tempting."

Her laugh is light. "I know. Everyone's always go, go, go. Our days are filled with ways to get as much done as you can in as little time possible. But you need to slow down, allow yourself time to recharge and really reflect on what you're working towards."

"I know." I stare down at my hands. "I saw my dad a few days ago."

"How did that go?"

"It was okay. He tried talking to me about Renee, but I'm not ready."

"Why not?"

"Because it feels too… hard? I told him I didn't want to talk about her, but then he told me that she rented a place in town, in Forks. I just—" I blow out a breath. "I hate that he didn't respect my boundaries. It's fucked-up."

"I can see why that would hurt you. Did you express that to him?"

"Yes. And he was apologetic but… I don't know."

"Has Renee contacted you or vice versa?"

"No. I haven't seen or heard from her since that one day in Forks." When I was blindsided.

"I see."

"So at least she's respecting my boundaries. But then again, I mean… she disappears from time to time. That doesn't necessarily mean she's allowing me space."

"But she didn't necessarily disappear this time, right?" Emily points out. "Why do you think she decided to stay in town?"

"I have no fucking idea. But I'm skeptical. Either she's trying to get back with Charlie, which would kill me, or… I don't know."

"Do you feel like you should have a say in what happens to them? They are adults and can make their own decisions, just like you."

The idea makes my stomach lurch. "Maybe I don't really have a say, but it would be unimaginable. There's zero way she wouldn't fuck it all up again. We deserve better than that."

"And what does she deserve?" I shake my head, unwilling to answer. "Take your time."

"My instinct is to say nothing. Renee deserves nothing, but I doubt that's what I'm supposed to say."

"You can say anything you'd like. This is a safe space." Emily regards me for a moment. "So you haven't seen her for three months."

"Right. Since January."

"Do you expect her to leave soon?"

"Yes. Of course. Give it another few months, maybe when summer hits, and she'll be gone."

"What could she do—if anything—to potentially make you believe her, to trust her again?"

"I don't know," I say quietly. "I don't know what that would look like."

Emily nods, keeping her expression neutral. "Maybe this week you can write her a letter. Tell her what you want from her, what you need. Be honest, and don't hold back."

"She's not gonna care," I say flatly. "I doubt she would read it."

"It's not for her, though. It's for you. You aren't going to send it, but maybe writing out how you feel will help you take a step back from your trauma, giving you a different perspective."

"Okay. So I just write her a letter and then what?"

Emily shrugs. "You can read it here, or you can throw it away. I wouldn't worry so much about what you're going to do with it. It's mostly to help you heal."

"All right." I breathe deeply. "I kinda did that once before. With Edward. I wrote a lot of emails to him after he left, but I didn't send them."

"Did you feel like it helped?"

"I think so. I mean, I wish I would've sent them, but I know he doesn't want to talk to me."

"Have you tried reaching out?"

"No. I'm too scared. We haven't talked or seen each other since the day he left. At this point, he's probably forgotten all about me."

"Do you actually believe that?"

"No. I'm just scared of that, maybe. I'm worried enough time is going to pass, and I'm still going to be fucked up and untrusting, and he's going to move on."

"He might," Emily says gently. "You could move on, too, though."

My eyes burn, and I self-consciously brush them away. "I don't want that."

"Isn't that why you're here? To work on moving on?"

"Not to move on from him. To… to move forward and not hold onto the things that aren't serving me," I say, and Emily smiles lightly, like she approves of this answer.

"Would you be upset if he moved on?"

"Yes," I say without thinking.

"Don't you want him to be happy?"

"Why can't he be happy with me?"

"Are you happy with yourself?"

I hesitate. "I'm getting there."

"I'm not saying he can't be happy with you, Bella. But I think, from what you've told me, you both needed time apart."

"We did. We do. I still care about him, though. And I do want to be with him." Reaching for a tissue on the table next to me, I dab my eyes. "Time heals all wounds, or whatever the fuck, but I feel like… I don't know. Time is not on my side."

"I don't necessarily agree with that saying," Emily offers. "I think something that's more helpful to hear is what we do during that elusive time is what helps us heal. Saying time heals all wounds doesn't hold us accountable for putting in the work because we then expect everything to happen on its own."

"I hadn't thought about it like that before."

"That's what I'm here for." Her lips press into a small smile. "You should really give yourself more credit—you're working through things and learning to heal. You come here every week, setting aside time for yourself. Not everyone can do that. I've already seen a shift in you in just the last three months. Don't give up now."

"Okay." I nod, fisting my tissue into a small ball. "I won't."

XXX

Since my therapy session ended around one, I call out of work for the remainder of the day. Sometimes I feel energized and ready to take on anything after my appointment. Today I just feel emotionally drained.

I take an hour nap when I get home, then make something easy for dinner. I spend the rest of the evening in my room, looking at apartments on Craigslist. After Emmett told me he's moving out at the end of the month to live with Rose, I decided it's probably time for me to go, too.

I'm scrolling through different one bedroom apartments and studios, and a dull ache begins to fill my chest. Maybe it's because I'm reminded of the time I spent in my bed, with Edward, while he was looking for new places to live. Maybe I'm still emotionally compromised after my therapy session today. Whatever it is, it's such an overwhelmingly numb feeling. I shut my laptop, forcing myself to clear my mind and focus on something else. I breathe as deeply as I can, but before I know it, I resort to the only thing I've tried so hard not to do during this process—reaching out to Edward.

Hey. I know you don't want to talk, but… I miss you. And really, you don't have to reply to this. I just wanted to say hi, and I hope your new gig is going well. Emmett said you were in town last week for your dad's birthday. I hope you understand why I didn't go - it's probably the same reason why you didn't stop by to see me. I still have the envelope Emmett gave me after you left… it's hard not to open it, but I'm still not ready. I really, really hope to be soon. And I really hope you'll still be there, waiting? Maybe? If not… I get it. Anyway… yeah. Take care of yourself, I'm trying to do the same. xx

Before I can stop myself, I send the email. If he doesn't reply, I can't really be surprised—he expressed he didn't want to talk or be friends. I know I'm not respecting that boundary he requested but… I'm human. It's been way too long since I've talked to him. Maybe I'm being weak, slipping up, but I'm not upset with myself over it.

When he finally replies a week later, I read the beginning of the email, hating how standoffish he sounds. As if we were mere acquaintances and never shared deep feelings for one another. But as I read on, he softens a little—a lot—and my heart feels more hopeful than before.

Hey, Bell. Sorry for the delayed response—I wasn't trying to purposely avoid you. LA's been good, work has been insane. But I love it. Hope everything is going well with you, with work and whatnot. Dad's 60th birthday was pretty fun, but I hate to admit part of me hoped you'd be there. I was tempted to stop by the house to see you, and I might've borrowed my mom's car to drive by a few times, but… if that seems too creepy, pretend I didn't just admit that. Anyway… I miss you, too. Every day. Fuck, this is the fifth time I've rewritten this, which is why it's taken me so long to reply. I'm trying to keep a distance, or whatever, but it's hard to do when it comes to you. I want to know what you're doing, and how you're REALLY doing. I want to hear about your day, and how things have been with Renee. Are you still doing your weird (but incredibly cute and quirky) restaurant reviews? I tried stalking you on Instagram but haven't seen you post much. It's killing me to not know what you're doing. The selfish part of me hopes not knowing what I'm doing kills you, too… only because that means you still care. Okay, I should end this now. I still think about you, and I'm glad you reached out. If you wanted to do it again, text me or call or whatever—I would be okay with that. And yes… I'm still waiting.

I've thought a lot over these last few months and have worked through so many emotions. The pessimistic side of me endured negative thoughts, convincing myself Edward would move on. That he'd go and fuck the first girl he met to get me out of his system. I thought about that so much, to the point where I almost did it, out of spite. I didn't though because imagining being with someone like that was enough to make me sick.

It's been hard not hearing from him but getting this heartfelt reply reminds me what the end goal is. He's not the manipulative asshole my vulnerable and sabotaging brain makes him out to be sometimes. He's kind and loyal and compassionate. But above all of that, he proved he's patient. And he's still waiting.

It's exactly what I needed to hear.

Slowly but surely.

Also, I love you guys. Thanks for reading.

Any mistakes are mine - the good parts are all Hadley. :)