Chapter 15

I'm falling with nothing to grasp on. Nothing to pull me back up. It's deep and dark. Terrifying. So I just close my eyes and succumb to it. Oblivious when someone is offering a hand. Jasper does this all the time. But how can you heal a broken soul? How can he put the remaining pieces back together when there's so much missing?

It's not his fault. It'll never be. I crumble. He's just collecting because I'm beyond repaired. He doesn't know how. He's trying but we all know I'll never be whole again.

The history repeats itself. I never learned and he trusted me so easily. He shouldn't give in. He should just let me suffering by my own. So, he wouldn't be dragged into this shit. To be my fix and failing again.

I'm pushing him away. But he gives me all the time I need. Why does he not understand?

He's hopeful while I'm helpless.

Those sad eyes fuel my guilt. Everyone knows I'm not good enough. I'm out of reach. Now he can't yank me back into his arms and pretend I want to be there.

Because I'm too far gone.

I'm drowning and I don't have a slightest will to survive.

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"Please, Bella." He begs. It's a cycle. He's frustrated, confused, sad, then back on frustrated. Any emotions but never angry. Never. I hate it. The spotlight is on me. The bad guy is me. I pour another glass of wine, draining it in one take. The bottle is half empty. He's quick to snatch it before I can hide it behind my back.

"Give it back!" I snap, red with fury and the alcohol in my system.

"You need to get help." There's no judgment in his tone. He's soft. He never once yells at me. An angel. That's why he'll never replace him.

"Fuck you." We have this conversation more that I can count. But right now I'm just tired of being nice. If he's surprised, he covers it well.

He puts the bottle on the table and strides towards me as I pull out a beer from the fridge. "Don't you love me? Don't you love yourself?" he pleads, holding my wrist. He wants me to fight the demon. He wants me to hold on. But I'm exhausted. I don't have the energy anymore. I have been fighting all my life.

"Get out of my house." My voice is acid. I look up to meet his gaze. I know he sees nothing but apathy. "Get out of my life and mind your fucking business." The words hit him hard he releases his hold. Somehow I kind of want to take it back. Because right now he's all I have. Because if I lose him now, I'll lose him forever.

"I'm not leaving you like this." He says, his jaw hardens. He holds back so much, but he always comes out calm. I envy him.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever. You know where the door is."

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He stays. A tiny part of me is grateful. But the most part is irritated. Does he not get it?

He practically moves in to my apartment. Leaves LA and abandons his work. His phone rings all week. But nothing can stop him when he's determined. His assistant even brought his extra luggage yesterday.

He's been running my errands. Cooking the meal, doing the laundry, hugging me in the night, whispering 'I love you' with no expectation I'd say it back. Because here, I'm busy being sad all day. Liquor is my escape. My way to cope.

"You should write again. You really loved it back then." He says, brushing the hair off my face. His touch feels warm against my cold face.

"I have." I point the diary full of depressing sentences on my drawer.

"May I?" he grabs it, but hesitate to open it. Like he's afraid invading my privacy. I shrug. I just don't care anymore.

He reads some. Silence. I turn on my side because I don't want to see the concern in his eyes or the frown between his eyebrows. He cares too much. More than I deserve.

"Want to make a song?" he asks. There's a smile in his voice. It's like a ray of light to my dark path. I hate it.

I ignore him because he already knows my answer. He's aware I hardly glance at the piano in the sitting room.

"Hey." He touches my shoulder. The diary has been put away for good. I close my eyes because this life is tiring somehow. "You're a great lyricist."

He's again met by silence. Then, I'm met with his arms wrapping around me. Giving me the warmth the world can't offer. He has showed me that he loves me in a thousand ways. But I just choose to be blind to see and deaf to listen.

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He's sitting on the carpet, Beats on, with laptop in front of him as I exit my room in denim jacket and boots. His head turns as I walk by.

"You're gonna head out?" he asks. It's shocking to see because I have been locking myself in this apartment for two weeks.

"Yeah."

"I'm going with you. Let me grab my shoes." He stands up immediately.

"I'm fine, Jas. I just need fresh air and a hot coffee." I say. He's torn. But he knows I need time for myself. He doesn't argue. He never says no to me.

"Okay." He breathes out. Those eyes seem to worry. But I put my sunglasses on and walk out of the front door.

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I tighten my jacket as I hit my favorite coffee shop in town. People turn their heads when they notice a famous face. Phones up, almost involuntarily, recording, capturing, I don't know. Right now I don't have my bodyguard with me, but hell, I kinda wish I had.

I order two ice coffees. One for Jasper (I don't know why I'm suddenly being nice, but again, I have given him shits for two weeks) and one for me. After I order and pay with my card, I wait and sit on the chair in the corner. I kinda hate it. Well, I very much hate it. It's like I'm the elephant in the room. People are watching every moves and in this moment, time goes slowly. Damn, how long does it take to make two ice coffees for God's sake?

Two girls approach me, asking for photos. The security appears out of nowhere, telling them to respect my privacy.

"It's okay." I tell him. So I smile for the selfies.

"Thank you, Bella. I really like your songs!" she can't hide the excitement in her voice.

"Cool. Thanks. I appreciate it." It doesn't come out as friendly as I want to be. But that's all I have.

"Girls, give her space." The security tells them to back the fuck out and luckily they take a hint.

"Okay, okay. Bye, Bella!" they wave a goodbye, but really, they probably wait outside.

Another minute comes and finally my order is ready. I take them in my hand as the front door is open, revealing a familiar face coming in. I know it's my mistake to turn my head, but fuck. I almost drop my drinks.

Wicked bronze hair that I wish doesn't belong to him.

Jesus. Out of thousands coffee shop in New York, I have to meet this man. Life can be so twisted.

People are watching our interaction with such interest and curiosity. Because our breakup was messy. We have many unfinished business I prefer not to remember.

Our eyes meet nanoseconds later. He stops dead in his tracks. As if this also takes him by surprise. After that, everything is done automatically. I walk by him, acting like this abrupt encounter never happens. And Edward, well I'm sure he's doing the same.

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Okay, I fucking lie. Seeing him again, it ruins my brain. Memories crush like a train wreck. If I have been already a mess before, I don't know what I am now. Jasper is concerned. He asks me if I'm okay hundreds times a day. I snap. I know I'm losing this fight.

Finally one day, I man up enough and tell him I need space. Because I realize I need to deal with it by myself. I just can't hurt him anymore. I'm better off this way. But the cloud of sadness in his eyes almost makes me want to make a U-turn. To take back my words. I don't. It's for good. Even though I don't know how I can start over from this. His presence is the only thing that keeps me sane all this time. What will I do without him?

"I can't leave you alone." He says, shaking his head. "Not in this state."

"What state? I told you I'm okay!" I insist. It's not convincing. I know he's not stupid. But his girl is losing her mind.

"You're not." He glares. "So, no. I'm not leaving. I'm gonna be here. I'm gonna be with you."

He doesn't understand. I'm only gonna hurt him.

I lean against the wall, massaging my temple. It's been so loud in my head these day. The headache never goes away.

"I'll call you everyday." I'm trying a different approach. I promise him something I'm not sure I can keep. I'm so desperate to get away. He gives me a skeptical look because he knows I'm full of shits. "Just for a week. No, two. I can prove you I'll improve."

"Are you gonna see a therapist?" he asks, serious.

I want to lie, but I'm too tired for that.

"Probably. I don't know."

He breathes, contemplating. But I know I already win.

"Okay." It sounds like a defeat.

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Another lie. I'm not improving. I'm not healing. I just let myself drown in sorrow. By myself. With no one to witness. I call Jasper every day, though. It's short, out of formality kind of call. I regret it every time I hang up, but there's nothing I can do. It's the best I can offer to him.

Until one call. A call from unknown number that changes everything.

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I contemplate, but the curiosity wins. A tiny wishful thinking.

"Hello, who's this?"

Silence.

I frown. But my heart beats faster.

"Bella?"

Pain. It pricks my skin. I know that voice anywhere.

That tiny wishful thinking becomes real and now I panic. I don't anticipate this. It's been forever since the last time we talked. So, it's no wonder for a straight five minutes, none of us say anything.

"Umm…I…do you want me to hang up?"

Apparently I'm not the only one who's lost at words. This is kinda awkward.

"Do you want to?" I question. I know I should say yes. We should never talk again. Talking to him gives me anxiety. But again, I have never felt more alive.

"No." He breathes out. I imagine him pacing in his room, trying to find his calm.

"Okay."

"How are you?"

"I'm good." Liar. "How about you?"

He laughs humorlessly. "It's been hell."

"Why?"

"It's a long story. Can I meet you somewhere?"