The Newtons and Randals were kind, helpful guests. They were keen on helping with the chores and making things easier for the Cullens, since the wedding was only two days away. An hour later, the garden was clean, dishwasher was loaded and running, and the kitchen countertops were gleaming spotless.
The antique clock on the wall chimed nine when they finally bid good bye and left.
As soon as they left, Edward made his way straight to third floor to Bella's room. The door was open and she was huddled in a corner, staring at a blank spot on the wall, still in her dress.
He paused.
The whole evening was like a wicked test of self control. He just couldn't stop his eyes from darting automatically to Bella no matter where he was or who he was talking to.
He watched her struggle through the whole charade, trying to avoid people as much as possible, keen on ending conversations quickly with guests who came forward to speak to her. He saw how she flinched when Mr. Newton mentioned her parents. He watched how her eyes darted in his direction constantly. He noticed how little she food had on her plate, that she listlessly pushed around with her fork. He counted until the fifth glass of wine she drank. He sensed her hidden anger at Mike's clumsy flirting, her jealousy at the way Tanya interacted with him.
He felt an unjustified anger toward Tanya for kissing him unnecessarily. His heart broke at Bella's pained expression as she tried to control her shaking rage and burning envy.
She was hurting. Breaking.
He recalled his uncontrollable urge to comfort her; hug her until she felt calm enough, scold her to eat properly, then feed her himself, and put her to bed.
Bella was a force. A force he was fighting against, but it wasn't merely a sexual one. It was much more deeper and scary. The uncontrollable impulses made him feel powerless. Being away from her was like being against gravity. Pain, endurance and struggle.
Bella's quite voice broke through his thoughts.
"Come to visit your room?" She said, without looking at him.
"Technically it's your room. I'm not the one paying rent." He said, lingering by the door.
She faced him at last, her eyes pink-rimmed. "Come in, Edward."
He walked in tentatively, wondering if his presence will do her more harm than good.
"Feel free to look around." She said, twirling the empty wine glass in between her fingers.
Glad for the buffer, Edward observed his old bedroom for the first time in years, his sanctuary until he was eighteen.
Bella left the bluish grey theme of the room he loved. The wallpaper looked quite new, but the design and pattern were similar to the previous one. The carpet, bed, bookcase were exactly at the same spots, carefully maintained.
The closet was left open. As Edward went to close the door, he saw a long line of grey clothes neatly hanged, though there were a few blues and blacks dumped in the corner. A loud snort escaped him.
"I forgot what a dork you are!" He snickered. Bella answered with a humourless chuckle.
He looked around casually once more. There were no paintings anywhere. He figured they would be in her studio.
The lower shelf of the bookcase had art related books mostly, but there were a few classics like Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, Sense and Sensibility. Next to it, there was an old complete set of Harry Potter books he remembered giving her when she turned eleven.
Rolls of canvas were on the top, along with a few notebooks. A small wicker bin full of random things was the middle shelf - it contained a few hair ties, keys, a chapstick, some coins, a bottle of Tylenol and a single tampon.
The only new addition to the room was a large cork board that dominated the wall behind the bed. It was full of photos pinned in a neat arrangement. He walked forward and stopped abruptly.
It was like a biography, an anthology of all the times they shared together. Her birthdays, his birthdays, her graduation, school sports days, family events, and lots of random photos. The times he laughed with her, helped her study, teased her with his brothers, Bella pulling his hair, Edward smearing cake on her nose, with his parents and brothers in the background or next to them - all captured beautifully.
Each picture he saw triggered his own memory. He felt ashamed that he had actually forgotten a lot about Bella. Her tenderness, her affection, her intelligence, and her occasional stupidity, her playfulness... their friendship.
The rest of the Cullens were also in most of the photos, but other than that, there was no one else. No friends. No colleagues. No photos of her prizes or awards or accomplishments. Just her favourite memories. It was like a treasury of little moments that would truly matter when she would be eighty.
He scanned each picture carefully.
There was one photo of young Bella over Edward's shoulders getting a piggyback.
Another one was at some kind of party where Bella was dumping a bucket of popcorn over Edward's head.
Bella got to her feet, at last, and watched him scan through each picture. It was fascinating to see his expression brighten, his moss-green eyes twinkle, or the corner of his mouth turn down to poignancy. She had never seen anyone so beautifully expressive. He's always been her favourite subject, her muse. She approached him noiselessly.
He was now looking at a photograph where she was around four and her parents were holding her, Carlisle and Esme standing on either side of Renee and Charlie Swan, their smiles gleaming in the morning sun, happiness shining through the picture. A tiny red heart was drawn at the bottom corner of the picture.
Who would have thought this would be one of the last photographs of Bella with her parents? She stood in the comfort of her mother's embrace, no idea that her parents were soon destined to leave this world.
"You know the worst thing?" Bella spoke from behind, making Edward turn around. "I don't even remember them properly. The clearest memory I have of them was at the funeral." Her voice faltered and broke.
Edward never felt so torn in his life. The urge to comfort her was throttling him, but couldn't bring himself to touch her. He momentarily cursed his decision to be physically distant with her.
The screams of his mind sounded like faraway echoes.
So close yet so far... Is this how we are going to be forever? Will she continue pining with unrequited love until she shatters and disintegrates? Will this self-imposed purgatory end her... and him?
He remembered his life back in New York. He allowed his career passion to numb him like an antidepressant, just like Bella used alcohol to numb hers.
In a way, coming back to Leavenworth was like coming back to life. The emotions, frustrations and indecisiveness were challenging him, waking his spirit, pushing him to think and feel... and decide. The frustration and stress were actually making him experience life, rather than continuing in a numb denial. It was uncomfortable and tight, it was painful, but he was alive nevertheless.
He stared at her, watching her eyes shift and change... like she was trying to recognise something. He wondered what she saw in his face. A tiniest pucker appeared between her eyebrows and her head tilted in a fascinating curiosity, watching him while he internally swayed.
"You are afraid." She said finally.
"What?" Edward asked, confused.
"You are scared that you'll fall in love with me. That's why you've avoided me all these years." She said.
Edward's eyes widened at her statement. The sudden vulnerability he felt wasn't pleasant at all. He looked away, focusing on a blank spot on the wall - anything to buffer from the laser stare of her innocent brown eyes.
"You've never allowed yourself to fall in love with anyone else, because it felt like betrayal." She finished.
Clarity. That was what she bringing to the surface - clarity on the one area he wanted to leave ambiguous and unclear. It was a dangerous area to venture, with risky consequences. Being in the dark felt more comfortable.
The first few weeks after he left Bella, he engaged himself in a lot of analysis and self-talk, figured out that it was for the best to never reopen that little chamber of his heart where Bella resided. He carefully built his walls and fixed a strong armour all these years, only to be met with this! With Bella peeling off his layers as easily as peeling off an onion.
Suddenly, he felt exposed, all his walls crumbled to dust. But Bella wasn't done speaking.
"I wish I could say that I am in love with you. But those words are too simple to convey the depth of what I feel for you, what you are to me." She whispered in a hoarse voice. "But I want you to know this - I am yours." Her eyes were glorious embers, deep and passionate, her voice thick with emotion.
She closed her eyes and leaned forward, her forehead touching his collarbone.
Edward was breathless, his heart thumping roughly against his ribs.
"Bella... I can't." he said in a pained whisper, hating himself.
"I know." Her words were muffled against his shirt . "Don't worry about me anymore. I'm giving up."
"What do you mean?" He asked, astounded.
Bella let out a shuddering breath, and wrapped her arms around him. Her arms were so small as she tried to capture his powerful, muscular body. She never looked so fragile than she did then.
For a brief moment, Edward felt every emotion she was going through.
Resignation... surrender... defeat.
She knew her heart was breaking. And she was allowing it.
Bella hugged him tighter. He didn't have the heart to push her away. However, he clenched his fists and forced himself not to pull her into an intimate embrace. There was no way he would want to let her go if he did.
One small taste, one lapse of control - he would be doomed.
"I've always been scared to lay myself open because if you don't choose me..." she swallowed nervously. "I don't know if I can survive that. I was always scared of your rejection. I will always love you, but I'm giving up fighting for you."
She turned her face and her lips landed right on his heart, the highest spot her short self could reach. She lingered for several moments, feeling his thumping heart upon her lips. The chemistry between them was sizzling and cackling in air.
Bella pressed herself closer, unperturbed by his lack of response, or his hands that hung loosely to his sides. She didn't feel drunk anymore; in fact, she felt excessively sensitive, harshly sober.
"Something about you makes me want to lose myself." She whispered.
She kissed his chest softly over his shirt and let out a dull chuckle.
"So that's it. I am letting the chips fall where they may." She kissed him again, on the same spot.
A thick drop of tear dotted his shirt. She released him, exhausted and tired.
Grief flooded and penetrated every pore of her being. It was a dark vampire inside her, that feasted on her strength and sanity. Tired, she let go of him and collapsed on the bed, letting sleep consume her immediately.
For a long time, Edward stood and watched her taking even, deep breaths. Like an ocean, wave after wave. Each breath worked laboriously hard to keep her terribly wounded heart beating, her pain piercing his own heart.
It was then he realised that the dot of tear which marked his shirt didn't spill out of Bella's eye.