My dear little broccolis💚💚💚

💚 From Duty To Love 💚

💚 1. The Duty Of Marriage 💚

"I have married this man without ever expecting much from this union. But can I expect anything from him now that I am his wife?"

‼️Rated M - {Out Of Characters/All Human/Alternate Universe}‼️

‼️Romance/Family/Drama/Lemons‼️

‼️Bellward/Alice Williams/Tanya Denali/The Cullens/The Swans/Original Characters‼️

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

Chapter 19: Wish You Were Here (3.3K)

Edward's PoV

I am sitting on a chair facing Isabella's bed, looking at her lying there and still unconscious. Neither Alice nor Joseph could tell me when she would wake, and neither of them seemed that worried that even salts did not awake her.

Mrs Cooper did not say a word when Isabella was brought in, but I know Alice talked to her, probably to know how much her fall had actually hurt her. I need to remember to ask Alice why I froze then, the same way I froze when I saw her at the hospital. It's not normal, it's not what men do.

For the rest of the day, I stay in Isabella's room, looking at her with dead eyes and admonishing myself. From what I understand, she went to the orphanage to see a doctor, among other things. I should have told Mrs Cooper to fetch Joseph first thing in the morning. I should have swallowed my pride and knocked on her door when she did not come down for breakfast and let her know how sorry I am about everything I have said and done ever since she told me about her pregnancy. I should have … been a husband and a father-to-be.

Shortly before dinner time, Mrs Cooper announces that my father is here to see me in the living room and I unwillingly leave Isabella's side. I idly wonder if Alice went to see him to tell him about my misdemeanour, but I hope that our friendship prevented her from doing so. I don't think I can handle a lecture from anyone anymore.

He is sitting on the loveseat facing the sofa and gets up as soon as he sees me, frowning at the space by my side. So Alice hasn't seen him, or he would know of Isabella's condition. I greet him, sitting on the sofa and he tells me,

"I don't have long, your Mother is expecting me for dinner. What happened today?"

"I needed someone to take care of things for a while and you're the only one I trust to do so."

He shakes his head, obviously disappointed, but this is a look I am used to. It seems that nothing I do will ever be good enough for him. "Edward … running a business is hard, running multiple businesses is harder. I know that. But you can't ask for more responsibilities and run back to me as soon as things start to overwhelm you."

"I never asked for anything," I grit out, looking away. This is something I have always made a point on doing. I never asked my father for anything. Even though I wanted nothing more than for him to let me handle everything and stop being on my back, I never told him. I didn't want the lecture. And it paid off, he did it on his own. Shortly after I married, he gradually stopped coming to work and gave me the full reigns. And I absolutely love the freedom and serenity it gives me. Even Alice said that my muscles were less tensed since my father was no longer working.

"No, of course not. It seems that you and I have the same sense of pride. Your wife did it for you. Where is she, by the way?"

I frown, not believing his words. Isabella would never ask this of my father. It wouldn't be proper of her to get involved in this conversation with my father.

He shakes his head and explains, "Of course she was not that blunt. She was very subtle, in fact. I used to come to visit her for lunch and during one of those visits, she let me know that she was reading a book about birds. She told me how chicks always learned how to fly once their parents pushed them out of their nests and let them fend on their own."

I don't say anything, reflecting on what I'm hearing. I never told anything about my father to Isabella. I just have a complicated relationship with him, and it is not something for my wife to worry about. And yet, just like she did for the photography, she knew it bothered me that he was constantly working with me, and she did something about it.

And to be honest, it has been a breath of fresh air to no longer have him at the bank or the hospital, and it is thanks to her. Because I know I never would have asked him to let me do things my way. My father has always questioned everything I did, everything I said, everything I tried. It's actually the other reason why I never let myself follow my passion for photography.

The only time he did not question me was when I asked for her hand to Charles Swan. I know he was surprised, everybody was, but he did not try to dissuade me. Then again, he had been pressuring me for the past five years to marry and produce a legacy, and he knew Isabella from before.

Unlike me, Isabella had been present in Emmett's important personal moments such as his wedding and the baptism of Ariana. And she used to visit Rosalie twice a month, staying over for a night and spending time with my niece and her good friend.

In all honesty, my father was thrilled that I decided to marry Isabella Swan. After all, she came from a numerous family, even though she was an only child. Her mother had four sisters and a brother who all had many children of their own. And though she was not from a family with a good name, she still came from a good family according to my father and the Reverend.

My father only started criticising my marriage when it seemed that I was not doing my duty as a husband and that Isabella remained visibly flat over the months. When I went to join them in the homestead, I had a whole lecture of an hour on how I should bed my wife and make sure I gave her children. Emmett did try to preach my case, but what Carlisle Cullen says always remains the biggest thing. His word is law.

I shake my head, glancing at the ceiling where Isabella's room is and trying to find a polite way to dismiss my father when he asks again,

"Where is your wife, Edward? It does not look like her to miss her hostess duties."

"She is ill," I let him know. He raises an eyebrow before rapidly smiling making me lock my jaw, knowing what he is going to say,

"I am glad to hear that you finally took your married duties seriously. I hope she gives you a son first, so you have someone to take over."

"She lost the baby," I inform him, looking down. He doesn't say anything to that. Even though Angela has had several miscarriages over the years, this is not something we talk about, even less us men.

With a heavy sigh, he gets up and comfortingly taps my shoulder, as he says, "Tell her that I wish her well."

I nod, but add, "I want to stay with her. I would appreciate if you could run things in the meantime."

"Edward … those are women issues. It's not something you can fix or help with."

I swallow with difficulty and shake my head, "No, I am staying. She is unconscious and I don't want to leave her side as long as she remains like that. Especially since neither Alice nor Joseph can tell me when she'll wake up. So can I rely on you at work?"

He looks at me, surprised that I don't comply. This is the first time I don't do as he says. Well, the second since I always pushed down the issue of getting married. But he nods with compassion and leaves with the promise to take care of things.

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

As I expected, the next day, my mother visits me with the promise to not tell anyone. She tells me many things about trying again and not despairing, but none of those words comfort me. Mostly because Isabella is still unconscious. Joseph doesn't seem to think that it is worth being alarmed to have a young woman simply lay on her back and sleep throughout more than twenty-four hours.

Still, he is subtly trying to get me used to the idea that she might not wake up, which annoys me to no end. After his auscultation, I let him know that I want Alice to treat my wife for the time being. He isn't very pleased with that, but at least Alice is hopeful that she will wake up, she isn't telling me to get dandelions ready.

She told Mrs Cooper to make a mixture of water, honey and plants and to feed Isabella by pressing a cloth soaked with the mixture to her lips. It's a tedious task that I refuse to let my housekeeper do. If it's the only way I can help, I definitely will do it.

So over the next few days, it's all I do. Sit on that chair and press a wet cloth to my wife's lips. Isabella has always been very pale, but right now, I can see the blue of her veins through the milk of her skin. Alice keeps being hopeful, but the more days pass, the less I believe her. I never heard of people sleeping so peacefully through so many days. She needs real food.

"She'll make it through," Alice says after her daily visit. she just checked Isabella's eyes, breath and pulse and I snort. it's been four days.

"Can't you do something to wake her up? All those foreign medical books you read, and you have nothing but words for me?" I snap, glaring at her but she is unimpressed. She puts her material back in her bag and calmly says,

"I am not God, Edward. I am just a doctor."

"What's the point of being a doctor if you can't simply wake up someone?" I glare at her, crossing my arms and ignoring her calm. It is so frustrating to have two qualified doctors at my disposal, and none of them can't do a thing. I am honestly tempted to find a pedlar or a gipsy to see if their methods work more than ours.

Alice walks to me, putting her hand on my shoulder as she asks, "Have you tried talking to her?"

I clench my jaw and hiss, "She is unconscious, Alice? Or did you miss that over the past four days?"

"I have heard that some people can hear whilst they are unconscious. Maybe it will do you both some goods. Maybe you should read her a book."

I look at Isabella's frail form on the bed. She needs to wake up and get to the sun. my eyes drift to her stomach, and I swallow with difficulty, asking Alice the question that has been burning my lips for days, "Do you really think that I killed my child? Or were you just trying to hurt me the same way I hurt her?"

For a moment, she stays silent so I look up so she cannot lie to me. She is looking at me with compassion and admits, "The truth is, I don't know, Edward. As I said, I am not God. That hoof left a pretty nasty print on her stomach, but … Some of her bruises were clearly not caused by the trampling of horses, and Mrs Cooper said she was worried by the way Bella walked and reacted when she touched her stomach."

I close my eyes and deeply breath in. Even if she lost the baby due to the accident, it is still on me. Mrs Cooper begged me to call on Joseph and I refused. Isabella never would have left the house looking for a doctor if I had called one for her.

Silently, Alice wraps her arms around me, the same way she did when we were kids and I would be upset because of my father, and she tells me what I wanted to hear, "She'll wake up, and you'll get to apologise and tell her how sorry you are."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

The next morning, as I am reading Isabella short stories from that author she likes, Edgar Allan Poe, Mrs Cooper announces that the Reverend is here to see me. I'm not surprised, both Alice and I have always gone to the Reverend when the other one was in a difficult situation.

He comes in the room with ease and firstly kneels by Isabella's bed, saying a prayer for her. Maybe this is the only thing I need. I haven't asked God for his help, and maybe this is what I needed to do. I pray with the Reverend and once the prayer is done, he gets up and sits on the chaise by the window with a benevolent smile,

"Do you want to talk, Edward?"

"No. I just want her to wake up," I tell him and he knowingly nods. For a few minutes, we both look at her before he says,

"I have to say though, I don't think Bella would appreciate knowing that you haven't been taking care of yourself because of her."

I ignore the taunt. I haven't been shaving since she's been unconscious and eating is something Mrs Cooper forces on me every morning. My hair is probably a mess, unkempt and untidy and my eyes probably look red and gaunt.

I take a deep breath, my eyes still on my wife and ask, "How do I atone for disrespecting my wife?"

When he doesn't answer, I turn my head to him and I see that he is knowingly smiling at me. "You already know the answer to this question, Edward."

I sigh because he is right. But how am I supposed to atone to her, how am I supposed to ask for forgiveness when she is unconscious? "It's a bit hard to do that right now, isn't it?"

"Marriage is not easy, Edward. Nothing in life is easy. Every step we take, every milestone we cross, every moment worth remembering is difficult. And when you stumble down, it only makes you stronger."

I nod, hoping he is right and that Isabella and I can become stronger after this. Although … "How do I atone for killing my child?"

"Is that what happened?" I pitifully nod, shame taking over me once again. No one will be able to convince me otherwise. If I had listened to her from the start, the child would still be alive.

Reverend Denali gets up and puts his hand on my heart which makes me frown. Over the past few days, everyone put their hands on my shoulder to show compassion, not my heart. He gently smiles and says,

"Only you can forgive yourself on this good Earth for this. But you have to understand, everything happens for a reason. That child wasn't meant to be. Your child was meant to be with God before it was meant to be with you, and no matter how much it hurts, you have to accept it."

"So … is God punishing me, trying to take my wife as well as my child?"

I wouldn't be surprised. God might be love and forgiveness, but infanticide seems something quite unforgivable.

The Reverend puts more distance between us, glancing at Isabella ever sleeping form. "But Bella is still here. In fact, knowing her, I am sure that she is arguing her case to stay with you."

"I doubt that," I say with scepticism.

"You will learn with time that women have this wonderful tendency to forgive what we, men, would never forgive. Especially women who love. You just have to make sure you talk to her. Talking is always the answer."

He gently taps my shoulder, and as he is about to leave Isabella's room, I clear my throat and clear my name. I know how the Reverend feels about violence and I don't want him to look at me differently, "I did not hit her, Father."

"I know Edward. Besides the way Carlisle has raised you, I can see it on your face. Violent husbands don't look so contrite when they confess their sins."

.~°~. .~°~. .~°~.

When Sunday comes and she still hasn't woken up, I am in a foul mood. I haven't slept of the week, barely eaten and this is the first time I am leaving her, so I can go to church. And the only reason I am doing so, it's because I want to ask God to bring me my wife back.

As per usual, gossips run loose at church and I hear many people speculating that Isabella is either having a difficult pregnancy for missing church twice in a row and having Alice visit every day, or I have hit her so violently that she can't get up.

I let those old hags at their gossips, pretending I'm not annoyed. I used to try to defend my honour when I was younger, especially when I was called a sodomite, but the more I defended myself, the more they gossiped. Many people thought I had gotten Isabella pregnant out of wedlock and that was why I married her so fast. And since I had gotten married, not a day passed by without me hearing about my wife's 'promiscuity'.

People think that she is a loose woman and that is the reason why she married so old. Of course, I know the real reason behind her lack of suitors, and I know first-hand that it has nothing to do with her promiscuity. But the rumours came back to me as soon as I saw that James Hunter character, and for a moment, I forgot all about the faith and trust I had in my wife, I forgot about me taking her virtue, and I believed all those gossips about her.

After the service, I go home to my wife, finding her in the exact same position I have left her and I read to her about The Black Cat. I spend the rest of the day with her, my heart erratic as the possibility that she might never wake up downs on me.

At dinner time, Alice surprises me before she forces me to go to my room and get some sleep. She threatens me with a needle full of morphine and so I accept to take her concoction of Indian plants as she tells me that I need to sleep or I will end up in the hospital.

So I take the mixture, laying in bed and looking at the painting Isabella made of our wedding as the Reverend's sermon echoes in my brain. It was all about forgiveness. I am sure he chose this sermon because of me, but how am I going to forgive myself if my wife never wakes up? If she never forgives me? If she never loves me again?

❌THE END❌

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💚 Your thoughts and opinions are always welcomed 💚

💚 I am curious about your feelings toward Edward now, and Carlisle?

💚Well, those were quick updates, and now we are finished. Hope you liked this part, and that you liked the way it ended, full of angst for Edward XD

‼️ Anyway, Stephanie Meyer owns the names of the characters from the Twilight franchise, everything else is mine (including the mistakes and grammar errors)‼️

Love, Mina 💚💚💚