As her wobbling legs carried her away from the burden of past and sorrow, her chest constricted painfully with the effort to keep from hyperventilating. Surrounded by the gloomy omen of darkness, she gazed into the eerie night fearing the succession of lonely years that lay ahead. Unshed tears blurred her vision and saddened her heart, robbing her of the ability to see the picture for what it truly was. Not for the first time, she was tempted by the whispers of her timid former self suggesting a swift method to end all her pains–not even her beloved Alice was around anymore.
She narrowed her eyes against the vestiges of a person she no longer could stand to be, and took a deep, calming breath, willing her mind to cease indulging in self-destructive thoughts. Heart wrenching visions of what could have been coupled with memories of the ones who'd been left behind tormented her wary soul, but Bella refused to buckle under the weight of fate's dictates. What is lost cannot be regained by sheer power of will, no matter how fundamental to one's soul, therefore she had no option but to admit her errs and keep on walking.
For all who'd perished, she said a prayer; to all the dreams that would never come to fruition, she waved goodbye. Stubbornly, one memory lingered, forcing her to confront the eyes of the man she loved first and wished she could have loved last. The perfect recollection of every nuance of his face was marred by the smooth coldness of the last time she'd seen him. She fancied that in death he'd found the peace he'd always seemed to lack in life, and for that she was grateful. Her romantic heart longed to die a premature death, for that's how much her soulmate was missed. However, Bella spurned the urge to succumb to the maudlin nature of her emotions.
The other half of her soul was dead and buried, but more than that, he'd rejected their bond at every turn. Fighting the wave of self-pity that descended upon her, Bella stopped herself from taking another step. Her unmoving body was a counterpoint to her overactive brain, for the memories of her interactions with Edward became vivid in her mind's eye. Yes, she'd been rejected and humiliated; her heart had been broken countless times, but those had been Edward's mistakes and Bella wouldn't allow herself to be the one to suffer the price of his stupidity. She promised herself to find someone who deserved her love and offer him her heart—without fear or limits. It wouldn't be easy, but Bella would do it, because she refused to be broken.
Thus, Bella put a final point to the first part of her life. The irrevocability of the moment had her throat yearning to unleash a howl of pain, but Bella Swan wasn't a wounded animal anymore. Through the suffering of loss and the certainty of death blossomed the seeds of hope, and the beginnings of an almost welcomed sense of anticipation. Freed from the constraints of a less than auspicious life, she rediscovered the beauty of letting herself smile for no other reason than wanting to feel happy.
With steady legs and a heart bursting with optimism, Bella resumed her walk. The path was unknown, but she wholeheartedly embraced the endless possibilities, for nothing was impossible to a woman strong enough to overcome the past and brave enough to undertake the gargantuan task of reinventing herself.
A couple of months later she started to work on her next novel. However, the elusive words teasing her brain refused to be translated into coherent phrases, much less to tell a story. Bearing unshared pains took its toll on Bella's fractured soul, leaving her trembling in desperate frustration. Pacing like a caged beast, she resented the confined space of her comfortable house. The storm raging outside kept her a prisoner of the walls around her, but more than that she felt trapped by a mind that refused to allow the rivers of imagination to flow freely.
Feverishly struggling against the constraints of self-doubt, Bella was confronted with the knowledge that her jailor was none other than herself. Bound by unpleasant memories, her present was forbidden from turning into a future. The limbo of hesitancy threatened on the horizon, powerful and bleak, promising a never ending string of regrets. It was impossible to deny that the delicate threads of Bella's frail self-esteem had barely been able to withstand the onslaught of criticism directed at her first book. Immersed in a deep well of depression, she'd never again found her literary voice. Truth be told, she hadn't even tried until now.
Gazing out the window, she watched in contemplative silence the furious wind blowing the tree's branches against her window. Memories of blossoming flowers in early spring reminded Bella that, despite the merciless power of the inclement weather, the legacy of chaos wasn't always absolute devastation. From the debris of the past a new kind of beauty could arise, fresher and wiser, for it would always hold the memory of what once was. As her eyes drank in the vision of the storm at its summit of violence, she was gradually lulled out of the agony of frantically struggling for something that should come naturally.
Perhaps, much as it happened with nature, the negative reaction to her autobiography was nothing more than the tempest her talent needed to endure before it could flourish and thrive. At that thought, her bruised ego revived and her battered sense of self-worth stirred; reawakening in her eager fingers the need to type the visions floating in the mist of her undeniable creativity. Her long dormant inner voice once again whispered a symphony of letters in her mind's ears, overwhelming Bella with the urge to save its beautiful compositions to posterity.
As writers are wont to do, she sat before the computer and surrendered herself to the magic of crafting dreams out of words. Ensnared in the sensual spell of writing, she disregarded weariness and hunger, pushing the limits of her body to an almost inhuman extent. When her mind was shut down by sheer physical exhaustion, she dreamed of the chapters she would be writing as soon as she could manage to escape the realm of sleep.
At this backbreaking pace was her novel conceived. In its pages, a piece of her soul was permanently embedded—her mind's child was nothing more than a romanticized version of the untold part of her biography, the one she'd kept to herself. Unconsciously compelled to bring Edward back to life the only way she could, Bella had unknowingly given birth to a haunting love story to which no reader could ever remain indifferent.
She had finally reached her full potential as a writer and she basked in the glory of getting positive feedback. Her once quiet life had become filled with book signings, speeches and all sorts of appointments. But within Bella there was a deep seated need for solitude and as she sat on the grass, secluded by trees and the chilly air of almost winter, she enjoyed a stolen moment of silence. The lack of curious eyes following her every move conferred to the otherwise unremarkable park the status of a much beloved sanctuary. Only away from prying fans she existed as her true self, allowing the layers of deception to fall to the ground. The tiresome game of 'make-believe' was a necessity born out of insecurities and the thirst for privacy consuming her insides these days.
Filling her lungs with the scent of serene nature, she started to walk down the deserted stone path that led to the lake. The timid light of the sun lessened the brightness of the stubborn life that defied the first whispers of the season of stillness. Basking in the dimed colors, Bella took the time to caress the wilting petals of a beautiful flower, to feel the roughness of a tree trunk, to appreciate the delicacy of a singing bird. Contentment entered her heart, and her lips curved into a peaceful smile.
The real world and its demands faded away—the allure of floating on dreams was impossible to resist. She forgot about the impertinent questions of the greedy media, the obsessive devotion of admirers and her own doubts about the quality of her future literary endeavors. In the safe haven of quietude, she felt connected to the lighter side of life, the one to which she'd been barred by circumstances beyond her control.
In this surreal fantasy she moved, oblivious to anything but the muted splendor of her surroundings, until the almost inaudible cry of a violin intruded. At first she was dismayed, for she felt robbed of the equilibrium she'd so desperately craved. Instead of halting her stride, irritation propelled her forward, for she was invaded with an unexplainable need to investigate the origin of the interfering sound. However, as she slowly got closer to the source of her aggravation, the once disjointed notes morphed into a true melody of sadness and loss.
When Bella finally came by the lake, she was startled to realize that the roles had been reversed, for she suddenly felt like the one interrupting a private moment. A whole body of water stood between them, but not even the distance eclipsed the tears running down his face. With closed eyes and a shuddering body he played like very few could, for his whole being was invested on the bittersweet lament emanating from the strings of his violin.
Aching for the wounded soul of the unknown man, she shed a few tears. The instinct to comfort him overruled the laws of polite society, for she found herself crossing a bridge in order to reach him. Bravely disregarding concerns and inhibitions, Bella stilled his hands and boldly met his alarmed eyes. They said nothing, for words would never be enough to express the uniqueness of their unlikely encounter. Therefore, they chose to follow their hearts, opening themselves to the unexpected.
With arms wide opened she welcomed his mourning soul, with gratitude he accepted the gift of understanding. Their embrace lasted an eternity and just a few seconds, but it was enough to bound two fractured strangers.
The strangers became friends; the friends, lovers. As effortless as the passing seasons, their relationship evolved; as delicately as blooming flowers, their feelings grew. Unrestrictedly given love and an openly acknowledged romance healed the fissures in Bella's soul, for the pattern of emotional abuse had been broken. In the security of a tender lover's arms, she found the strength to unleash the full extent of her ability to love.
And love she did, without the fears and constrictions to which she had clung for way too long. Liberated from the pain of her past, she abandoned herself to the blissful feelings her lover evoked. For his part, the widowed violinist found in Bella a new reason to live. The poetry of his music lost its somber tone, acquiring the brilliance only a reawakened heart could create. Bursting with love and passion, he gave his whole being to the beauty who had so unexpectedly crossed his path.
Oblivious to the disapproving glares of their envious peers, they danced in the rain, sang at the top of their lungs, laughed like little children—their hearts basking in the glory of second chances. They'd known the darker side of love, and because of that they cherished the gift of rediscovering the most intense of human emotions on their mid forties. But age was just a number, especially when the hearts involved refused to shrivel in bitterness and die of loneliness.
In the intimacy of their bed, Jacob showered his attentions upon Bella's body, sweetly taking her to summits of blinding pleasure while reaching for his own satisfaction. The dedication of Bella's partner was rewarded by her willingness to experiment, pushing the boundaries of her comfort zone, eagerly accommodating Jacob's voracious appetite for adventure. They weren't a perfect match from the start, but they worked through their issues, making an effort to better fit into each other's lives.
Eleven seasons they spent together, in harmony and happiness. However, the breeze of spring brought new dreams to the lovers' hearts, and they were faced with the harsh reality of growing apart. Jacob's artistic soul yearned for the stage while Bella's mind was feverish with untold stories. Each one ached in silence, until it became unbearable to suppress the needs consuming their sleepless nights. As much as they longed for the liberty of existing on their own, Bella and Jacob were loath to hurt each other's feelings.
The truth wouldn't be denied though. The heat of summer burned high in their already unsatisfied selves when their innermost thoughts were reluctantly voiced. Instead of hurt and rage, they found only understanding and acceptance. A few bittersweet tears were spilled while they hugged like only old friends could. A great deal of affection remained between the pair, but both of them knew it was time to say goodbye.
Jacob left for Europe, seeking to resume the career he'd left behind. Bella waved him away, silently thanking her former lover for rebuilding her self-esteem and teaching her how to love beautifully. Their story didn't last a lifetime, but not all romances were meant to endure the trials of time. Smiling, she wondered what the future had in store. And she felt no fear, only excitement.
The next winter, Bella was walking down a non-descript street while absently studying the romantic showcases announcing the proximity of Valentine's Day. Getting a glimpse of herself on a spotless glass door, she was startled by the drab image staring back. In an effort to distance herself from her shady past, Bella had become a paragon of propriety, abdicating the vivacious colors that appealed to the vibrant woman within, as well as the more risqué necklines that displayed her best feature to maximum advantage. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but she couldn't deny that, despite the long path she'd walked since embarking on the journey towards self-discovery, she still had a long way to go.
However, she also had changed a lot over the past twenty years. A spur-of-the-moment decision lightened her mood, making her giggle in joy. On the other side of the street she spotted the perfect place to begin the much needed task of renewing her wardrobe. It was a very colorful place, and the saleswoman was a perfect match to the unique shop, for she was an older woman who refused to dress according to her age. She introduced herself as Sulpicia, and Bella was delighted by the beautiful outfits she suggested.
Happy with her purchases, Bella spent the next few days busy with the construction of an image that better suited her soul. Her shopping spree came with an unexpected bonus for she met a man who asked her out on a date. She was buying lingerie—the kind a woman acquires when she is expecting company—when she noticed a man lecherously gawking at the red lacy corset she'd been holding. Tall and attractive, Mike appealed to her in a very carnal way. Shrugging inwardly, Bella accepted his invitation, for she was a woman consumed with the need to be desired.
Having spent so many years behaving like an asexual hermit, Bella still struggled with the idea of sharing her body with someone she didn't love. The sweet encounters she'd shared with Jacob had helped her heal somewhat, but deep inside she still called herself denigrating names from time to time. Instead of hiding from her demons, Bella chose to fully confront them by engaging in sex without commitment—the ultimate sin in the book of proper women's behavior. Of course these conceptions were perceptions of reality distorted by the guilt Bella felt at having used her body to support herself.
She wasn't disappointed in Mike, for he proved to be an entertaining dinner companion and a relentless lover—what he lacked in skills, he compensated by tenaciously chasing his partner's completion. Bella had a lovely time, so much that she didn't remember her concerns and reservations until much later, when Mike's scent was already gone from her bed and her body barely remembered the feeling of his hands. When the negative emotions threatened to emerge, she was ready for them. Repeating the mantra that the past had been nothing more than a learning experience that should never dictate the future, Bella kept the feeling of self-recrimination at bay.
Maybe she would be considered vulgar by some, but it no longer mattered to Bella. All she cared about was being true to herself, for, to her way of thinking, there was no greater sin than wasting the gift of life in useless pursuits. This set of mind allowed Bella to open herself to an unlikely companion, a man who had witnessed the most emotional day of her life.
It would have been another night spent in the company of the corky crew to which Sulpicia had introduced her, if not for the man insistently watching her every move. Feeling unsettled, Bella tried to redirect her attention to the stimulating conversation of her newfound friends, but a vague memory tugged at the back of her mind, making her eyes turn his way more than she would have liked. More than once their eyes met, causing her face to burn in intense shame.
Halfway through her meal, the mariachis started to play and the patrons filled the dance floor with their barely disguised lust for life. The writhing bodies and flirtatious movements had Bella yearning to join in their fun, but vestiges of her old self still lingered, preventing her from simply following her wishes. Bella tried to chase away the invisible threads of repression bounding her to the chair, but she feared it was a lost battle.
Absorbed by her inner struggle, Bella failed to realize that the man who had been sitting on the opposite side of the crowded restaurant was making his way towards her. She was startled by the sight of a very masculine hand suddenly appearing before her. It was a clear invitation to which Bella valiantly said yes, despite being slightly afraid of the handsome 'maybe stranger'. Without a hint of hesitation he guided her through the throng of dancers, until they stood on a balcony. Under the moonlight their connected bodies swayed to the beat of their hearts, disregarding the rapid beat of the song they were hearing.
An inebriating sense of destiny coursed through her veins, and her heart sang with hope and excitement. Upon closer inspection, the man holding her in his arms was nothing short of a work of art, an angel whose eyes glinted with unholy promises. After twenty wonderful minutes of pure romance, he finally spoke—his simple question unleashing memories she hadn't revisited in a long time. For a moment, the urge to flee was almost overwhelming, but she refrained from succumbing to the childish urge to avoid upsetting situations.
Searching her soul for the answer, Bella was surprised by what she found. Smiling at her companion she answered his question affirmatively, for her grieving period had been over for quite some time. Yes, she was all right—more than that, she was determined to explore the spark of attraction she felt for the man whose name she'd just learned, even though his face had been etched in her brain since one sad day when she'd cried over for a man who had never deserved her. It was unwise to disregard his obvious interest just because he'd once been a friend of Edward's.
The words were out of her mouth before she could really organize her thoughts, making him grin in amusement. Being a gentleman, he refrained from teasing her, mostly because he was elated by her awkward reassurances. Knowing that she welcomed his attentions was all he needed before he proceeded with the plan to conquer the heart of the beauty dressed in a provocative azure dress. He couldn't help but comparing the temptress saucily gazing at him with the broken woman he'd admired from afar. Fortunately, the woman before him was whole again.
Kissing her delicate fingers, Eleazar thanked destiny for the present it had bestowed upon him. Having heard part of her one sided conversation with his deceased friend, Eleazar took an oath to not repeat Edward's mistakes. He swore to cherish Bella for a lifetime, or at least, for as long as she allowed him.
A few months later the once strangers once again danced together, but this time to a different tune. Bella was well acquainted with the sensuality of the fingers running down her exposed back, for she'd spent many nights enjoying the benefits of her lover's talented hands. The seemly innocent caress was an irresistible promise of ecstasy to which she would willingly succumb. Just the prospect of indulging in the passion simmering between them was enough to rip a moan from the very core of her being. Closing her eyes she forgot about their guests and abandoned herself to sensation. The slight brush of the delicate white silk of her dress against her naked erect nipples had her body crying for possession. The wetness of her uncovered sex would have been embarrassing had she not been beyond reason or shame.
A soft whisper of a kiss touched her neck evoking memories of the carnal delights those full lips were able to elicit. Lost in a haze of unbearable lust, she threw her head against the broad chest of the man whose hands encircled her waist from behind. Forgetting all notions of propriety, she had no qualms about enticing his body with her own. The contact between soft and rigid flesh lured Bella's intended prey into compliance, for Eleazar lost all control over the game he'd started. Their overwhelmed minds couldn't get past the urgency of the smoldering desire clouding their judgment, hence their surprise when the snickering bridesmaid approached and loudly reminded the couple of their amused audience.
Blinking against the embarrassment tinting her cheeks, Bella watched in open mouthed awe Eleazar's reaction. The very masculine smile of satisfaction gracing his lips conveyed no regret at their lack of restraint in such a public environment. Deciding to just follow his lead, Bella simply waved to the few onlookers who applauded their performance. Taking advantage of the scandalous moment, Eleazar took her into his arms and carried her out of the beautifully decorated room. His indelicacy at leaving early was quickly forgiven by their friends, for they understood the eagerness of the newlyweds for privacy.
Skeptical souls scattered around the merry party were already predicting the end of the union. To their way of thinking, three months wasn't enough time to create a lasting bond between two people. And when passion faded due to the inevitable routine of everyday life Bella and Eleazar would be left with nothing but a piece of paper bounding them to their idiocy. Their opinion was born out of prudence and their conclusions were pertinent, but romantic hearts care nothing for the obvious and undeniable.
Romantic hearts beat in tandem with the irresistible melody of hope, lustily surrendering themselves to the allure of destiny. Hurt and disillusion were the price they had to pay for chasing the bright possibility of forever, but the bitter end was worth the all-consuming glory of being in love. They were resilient and valiant, for no matter in how many pieces they were shattered, romantic hearts always found a way to be whole again. Eleazar was the owner of such a heart and so was Bella.
Predictably, rapture lasted two Springs and a mediocre book that sold millions of copies. By singing praises to everlasting love, Bella managed to capture the imagination of love starved women to whom just the mirage of real connection was enough to nurture their lonely souls. Dazzled by the glittering pleasure of popularity, Bella failed to realize the growing discontentment festering the heart of the man who should have been hers for a lifetime.
Ashamed of his growing jealousy, Eleazar chose to conceal how much his delicate male psyche hurt from the knowledge that he wasn't the center of his wife's life. Confused, he failed to address the issue properly, choosing to suppress his feelings until they couldn't be silenced anymore. Passionate bursts of dying love followed, tempered by increasingly shorter periods of almost peace, until the day when the flame finally died.
There was no greater pain than the one of crumbling illusions, for it tears apart the soul of the dreamer who wove the beautiful distortion of the hard reality. The day Eleazar left, Bella fell apart in the arms of her understanding friend. Anchored by Sulpicia's pragmatism, Bella didn't really crumble, but rather grieved her deceased fairy tale love for an appropriate amount of time before gathering herself together and keep on living.
Now, sitting on the opposite side of the impressive wooden table that dominated the room, Bella gazed into the unsmiling eyes of the man she'd once loved. Lawyers and mediators surrounded them, but she couldn't distinguish their words. In the privacy of her own mind, Bella was consumed with conjectures and half-truths about the past. Impossible possibilities, flitted before her wary eyes while her veins were poisoned by bitter resentment.
The unfairness of the impending revelation disfigured the reality and lingering feelings of insecurity made the truth unimportant. Spurred by the adrenaline flooding her system, Bella clenched her fists against the urge to run away from the problems currently plaguing her. It was a deeply rooted instinct, one to which she'd gladly succumbed in the past, but not anymore.
Her conscious mind was aware of the absurdity of her own reactions, nevertheless she was unable to decimate the call of her inner nature. Closing her eyes, she filled her lungs with the tense air of the room and exhaled deeply before surveying the scene. The aftermath of love shouldn't be the veiled contempt of a wounded former lover who couldn't stand the sight of the one who had once held his affection.
An effort needed to be made, an olive branch offered. However, Bella's frame of mind didn't allow for grand gestures or strategically planned moves. She was raw and about to expose herself to the world of hurt Eleazar could unleash upon her with the uttering of a few simple words. Reaching for Eleazar's hand, Bella took it between hers and patiently observed the cacophony of emotions contorting his features. So many of them mirrored her own that Bella almost forgot about the intention behind the gesture.
But as his eternally cold hands warmed between hers, emotion clogged her brain and a smile tinted her lips. She simply said the words.
"Eleazar, I'm pregnant with your baby."
It wasn't smooth. It wasn't grand. It wasn't even sweet. It simply was.
After a high risk pregnancy due to her age, Bella welcomed her baby into the world. There was no denying the love flowing around the room as the new parents gazed in awe at their little girl. The still unnamed baby slept peacefully in her mother's arms, completely oblivious to anything but the warmth and security of her parents' devotion. Little did she know that a somewhat amicable war was being fought between the two most important people in her life.
"I still think we should name her Maria. I want my daughter to grow up proud of her Hispanic heritage."
"For some reason, the name Maria evokes images of women gazing silently at the horizon, hearts bursting with the pain of loving undeserving men. I want better for my daughter."
Shaking his head Eleazar wondered if he'd ever comprehend the oblique mind of the woman he would forever love. Shrugging, he decided to concede the point, even though he didn't understand her argument. After all, she was the one who had carried and nurtured their little miracle for nine months—it was only fair to let Bella have her way.
"Alright, honey. What name do you suggest?"
"Ever since I found out about her existence my heart has been singing in almost unbearable bliss. I think her name should reflect that… She should have a happy name, one that conveys the happiness she brought into our lives."
Smiling inwardly, Eleazar couldn't help but agree with Bella assessment. His mind flew through a thousand possibilities, searching for a name that could properly express how special his child was. She was pure joy, therefore he came up with the idea of naming her after a song. But all the pretty names were overused and she should have a unique name, as rare and beautiful as she was. That's when a word blossomed in his mind—a memory of something he'd heard a long time ago.
That's how she was named Gita, the Sanskrit word for song. Bella gazed into her child's eyes and said the name, eliciting a smile from the little girl. Later they would tell the story of how Gita was ecstatic about her chosen name, never bothering to remember that little babies don't really smile.
In the midst of so much delight, Bella was suddenly assaulted by the bittersweet memory of the love that had never blossomed. Would she be happier if it was Edward's baby in her arms? Would he have liked the name of their child? She was yanked away from her somber thoughts by Eleazar's plea to hold Gita. And in that moment she realized that the baby would never have been named Gita had she been Edward's child, nor would she have the beautiful curls or the olive complexion that made Gita so unusually pretty.
Life had moved on, despite Bella's best attempts to cling to the shadow of a possibility. Once she would have been dismayed at this realization, but not now. Not when she had healed from her past wounds and she had a child of her own. Not when she had a good man she would always be fond of, even though they had agreed on ending their marriage.
Life was good.
At that thought, Bella smiled.
Years passed and things went on without much alarm, until the day a gift from God came into her life. It was a beautiful day, a perfect blend between the last remnants of summer and the first winds of autumn. However, the passersby seemed oblivious to the delicate balance of seasons, for they were too occupied following the steps of the radiant woman walking down the street. It wasn't about beauty, although she had a generous amount of that. It wasn't about confidence, despite the certainty of her steps betrayed a great amount of that attribute. Their attention was captured by the brilliance of her smile and the obvious joie de vivre she exuded.
Not even the child clinging to her neck, animatedly talking about her weekend with papa, detracted from her allure. Evoking images of happiness and perfect love, mother and daughter had the onlookers sighing in longing and drowning in memories. So different but so alike, the duo unknowingly inspired many phone calls to neglected mothers and a few other's to come to grips with their heart's desire.
Among the last group one man stood out. He was by no means gorgeous or well accomplished, but he had gentleness in his soul and love in his heart. Shy and too soft spoken to modern girls' tastes, he wasn't used to taking bold measures. But he'd spent the last few months watching the pretty lady that always walked by his bookstore every Monday and somehow he felt that she would understand the fractures in his soul–as he would understand the one's in hers.
It was crazy and illogical, but he didn't mind. Amadeo had always believed that some truths are known by the heart before they are even acknowledged by the mind. Romantic man that he was, he never stopped to question the wisdom of approaching a woman who was at least fifteen years his senior or even to consider if she might have someone in her life. His soul yearned for her as much as hers unknowingly craved his.
Thus started an affair that drove the lovers to sweet embraces and heart wrenching encounters. Theirs wasn't a union of passion or the gentle embrace of true love. It was intellectual lust, soul connection and absolute acceptance. Nothing was forbidden, everything was bared. The rawness of their battered hearts exposed and nurtured by their shared inability to hurt each other.
The threads of destiny had united the improbable couple, but the inescapability of the inevitable kept them together. They were oblivious to the prejudice their union elicited. Together they grew, learned and became stronger. And when they parted it was with whispers of nostalgia and a bittersweet smile.
From Amadeo Bella had learned the beauty of trust and the wonder of tender love. In his arms she'd discovered the beauty of abandoning herself to another person, not only body, but also soul and heart, without the slightest fear of being betrayed. She would forever view their time together as a wonderful gift, one she would forever hold close to her heart.
But she didn't mourn the loss of Amadeo, instead she chose to celebrate what they'd had by moving on as a better person.
Many lovers later, Bella started to feel … less young. So, as she was used to, she wrote a book to help her cope with her new reality. The vicissitudes of gracefully aging had been wonderfully explored by "Whispers of Autumn", Bella's most recent book. Revered by her contemporaries, Bella had achieved such a level of excellence in her writing that critics even started to revere her scorned auto-biography. Inwardly she laughed at how quickly her detractors had changed their minds once she'd been acclaimed. Outwardly she placidly smiled, declining from offering any comment on the specialists' change of heart.
The tour that followed the release of "Whispers of Autumn" was a true test of not only Bella's physical endurance, but also of her emotional maturity. Gita was proving to be quite a trying teenager, especially for a sixty something year old mother with a demanding career. The little sweet girl had grown up into an opinioned teenager with a knack for interfering with her mother's relationships.
Where other mothers would be annoyed, Bella simply laughed at her daughter and reassured the girl. Bella understood how possessive her child was and that her little stunts were merely a call for attention. Besides, Bella didn't really care all that much for the men she'd allowed into her life. They were all good, decent and honest men—she'd never allow a man of dubious character anywhere near her daughter—but she never managed to fall for any of them.
Surprisingly her single status didn't bother her, for she enjoyed the possibilities of being alone and free to explore. She'd gladly dived into the well of sexuality, tasting everything at least once. She wasn't by any means promiscuous—she simply wasn't a woman bound by laws of behavior born out of a patriarchal society. She was femininity incarnate—strong, unashamed, sure of herself.
Despite no longer being as beautiful as she used to be, the fire in her soul burned higher than ever before. Men were no longer attracted by her impeccable exterior—it was her soul that called to them. She was a curious mix of unbridled lust for life and timeless wisdom that could only be achieved by those who overcame their troubled pasts to blossom into the person they truly were underneath the layer of suffering.
Like a late blooming flower, it took Bella years before she'd fully trusted herself enough to let go of her defenses and face the world without resorting to old habits. No, the past wasn't forgotten—it lived through the "Jasper's Center for the Homeless" and the "Alice's Feline Shelter". From time to time, she still visited their graves –she would forever miss her saviors, but there was no point in dwelling in past hurts.
Sometimes, she even visited Edward's grave. On more than one occasion she'd seen his former wife, now old and marred by sadness, sitting on the grass mouthing Edward's epitaph—"Beloved son, loving friend. You will be missed". The absence of any mention of Tanya's grief inspired a sort of camaraderie in Bella—they both had mourned the loss of the same man, but none had been granted the right to immortalize their feelings.
However, unlike Bella Tanya had never moved on. And for that Bella would forever pity the woman who had allowed love to destroy her.
I am mine and no one else's. I'll always come back to myself.
The empowering thought had been Bella's mantra since the day she realized that she self love was the greatest of all loves.
And then it came the day when she became really old–a sweet looking elderly woman who by no means resembled someone marked by tragedy. Instead her image evoked feelings of love and security, misleading the observer into believing her to be as soft as her voice, as patient as her gestures. Nobody could ever guess that underneath Bella's weathered skin a formidable being of strength and steel hid.
Nevertheless, her granddaughter, the very image of propriety, often resented having to accompany Bella on her walks. The girl was especially mortified by Bella's flirtatious banter with the baker. Seeing the grim look on the girl's face never failed to entertain Bella who thrived in adding fuel to the flames by saying things along the lines of having time for at least one more marriage.
Little did she know that her time on Earth was actually coming to an end and she would soon open her eyes on the other side of life where her long lost soulmate waited for the chance to prove himself worthy of her love.