Rosalie wipes steam from the hotel's bathroom mirror, taking a deep breath of the humid, perfumed air.

She looks exhausted. Her under-eye bags have under-eye bags.

After sitting in traffic for an hour, eating a subpar sandwich from a corner shop, and then anxiously waiting at the courthouse for far too long, she had to recount in detail everything that happened that night in front of a room of strangers.

The beautiful party. Her fourteen-hundred-dollar, custom-fitted dress. The seemingly sweet walk home in the dark from her then-fiancé and his friends that lulled her into a false sense of security. The moment the bubble of her perfect life was burst and she was thrown into a waking nightmare within the confines of her own downtown Rochester loft.

She doesn't want to think about any of it ever again, but the events of the day keep bouncing around her head. She's going to have to go back for the final hearing if she ever wants to put those horrible memories to rest.

Royce didn't even show up. He decided to waive his right to attend a preliminary hearing because of a scheduling conflict.

His lawyer was there, though, along with his four friends and their lawyers, wives, and parents.

Detangling her damp hair with a wide-tooth comb, she commences her bedtime routine as if she's home in her apartment, comfortable and safe.

She spent countless brunches, dinners, and parties with them, but they didn't look like the same four men she knew. Seeing them after so many months felt surreal.

Naturally, all four plead not guilty, and their testimonies were heavily twisted and skewed in their favor.

They collectively made up some story about Rosalie getting wasted on champagne and propositioning them. They said they only had sex with her because they were also shit-faced drunk, and they have no idea where her bruises came from.

She wasn't drunk that night. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. She had a couple of glasses of champagne like usual. They were the ones who had gotten into the harder liquor.

According to their statements and several character witnesses called to speak—all of whom are friends with Royce—she seemed to be overly concerned with status and engaged to Royce for monetary gain. They flipped the story around to make her out to be some scheming seductress taking advantage of married men. They claimed to think she called off the wedding because she couldn't deal with the guilt of her own decisions.

This, paired with the fact that Royce's family now owns the majority of shares in her father's bank and she received a 4.2-carat diamond engagement ring from Tiffany's, doesn't help her image much.

They're likely going to sell the shares off all at once and tank the value. Having them leave as financial backers isn't going to maintain the stability they need to convince other shareholders to stay.

She grabs the little travel-sized tub of moisturizer from her cosmetic case and smooths some on, pressing a little too roughly. Her eyelids burn, the delicate skin still red and irritated looking from earlier.

She waited until after she was in the cab ride back to her hotel before she started crying. She refuses to let them see her as weak.

Rosalie walks out of the bathroom and grabs her pajamas from her suitcase on the bed, swapping her oversized fluffy towel for a cozy, long-sleeved set her mother insisted on giving her the night before.

Candy canes, chocolate truffles, cashmere socks, and some damask rose hand cream were among some of the other things deemed belated stocking stuffers and now crammed into her luggage.

She grabs the TV remote off of the nightstand and gets into bed. Some crappy television might take her mind off things.

Her phone rings from somewhere nearby, but she doesn't see it.

At this hour, it has to be Emmett. He must be wondering why she didn't call him back yet.

She rummages around the comforter, finding that it slid under one of the pillows somehow.

She scowls when she sees Alice's name lighting up the screen.

She told Alice that she would be out of town. Clearly, she has no consideration for the time.

"Hello?" Rosalie answers, her tone less-than-welcoming.

"Hiii! Sorry to call so late. Are you able to give Jasper a ride to his interview tomorrow morning?" Alice asks. "It's at ten. I was going to, but I don't think I can make it because I have to deal with this...situation."

"I can't. I'm in New York until Tuesday," she reminds her.

"Shoot. Okay, I'll check with Peter."

"What situation?"

"I'll tell you if you promise not to tell Emmett," Alice prefaces. "I'm in Eastlake right now outside Bella's apartment. I'm hoping I can catch her before she leaves because I'm afraid she's going to do something really dangerous."

Of course, Bella needs rescuing again.

"What is she doing this time?"

"I think...she's going to...herself," Alice's voice crackles over the line, the words fading out momentarily. "She got a motorcycle, and her roommates are out of town, so there hasn't been anyone home to check on her. I'm really worried, Rose. I never thought the breakup would affect her this badly."

"You're waiting outside of her apartment at..." Rosalie checks the time on her phone. "Eleven at night because she bought a motorcycle."

It sounds too stupid to be real.

Rosalie wonders how Alice manages to date Jasper if she's that alarmed by something as mundane as a motorcycle.

Granted, Bella is chronically clumsy, but it's hardly reason enough to jump to the conclusion that her life is in imminent danger.

"No, I'm waiting outside of her apartment because she's going to run it off the side of the road and die."

"Did you try calling her? She doesn't seem like someone who would be awake past ten."

"She isn't picking up. It goes straight to voicemail, but...I know. She isn't normally out this late, and that's why I'm worried," Alice sounds unusually stressed. "I...I think I'm too late. I've been here since five and I haven't seen her."

Rosalie sighs. "Are you at least waiting in a car? You aren't standing out on the sidewalk by yourself are you?"

"Huh? Oh, there wasn't a spot to park out front, but it's fine. I got inside the building," Alice answers. "I wonder if she blocked me, too, and that's why I can't get through."

"What do you mean blocked you, too? Who blocked you?"

"Edward. He's not talking to me still."

Of course. Even when she doesn't interact with Edward directly, he manages to somehow annoy her.

If it weren't for him, Alice wouldn't be in this mess, and Rosalie wouldn't be listening to this half-baked drama when she could be watching an episode of the Real Housewives.

"He's an asshole," Rosalie says decisively, kicking one of the many pillows on the bed to the floor.

"Sorry, I'll let you go so you can get to sleep. Buh-bye," Alice says abruptly, ending the call.

Rosalie sits up, thinking for a moment before scrolling through her contacts to the one person she thought she'd never willingly call. Edward Masen.

She knows for a fact he hasn't blocked her because he's never had her number. The only reason why she has his is that Emmett gave it to her on their trip to Whistler just in case.

It isn't like she's going to be able to sleep anyway. The very least she can do is call and give him shit for blocking Alice and being an all-around obnoxious human being.

It'll feel good to yell at someone.

...

Alice stands in the dusty hallway of Bella's humble apartment building, still waiting outside of the third-floor apartment door.

She managed to weasel her way in past the locked entrance door thanks to a pair of senior girls who recognized her from campus, but, in the four and a half hours since then, she hasn't heard a single peep from the apparently unoccupied apartment.

She paces the carpeted stairs and checks Twitter again for local accident reports. The only new post is about a car break-in near campus.

She's caught by surprise when she hears Bella's voice drift up the stairs.

"I told you I'm fine, Jake. You can go back to hanging out with your friends now."

"You are my friend!" the voice of a young man answers gruffly. "We'll always be friends."

"I'm tired...I need to sleep."

"You're sure you'll be okay? I can stay over, if that helps. You still seem upset."

"I...I don't know if that's a good idea. I don't want to—" Bella freezes when she turns the corner up the stairs and sees her. "Alice."

"Bella!" Alice shouts back at her.

In seconds, Alice finds herself caught up in a very enthusiastic, bone-crushing hug.

"Oh my god, Alice, is it really you?!"

"The one and only." Alice crinkles her nose in disgust, pulling away slightly from the sopping wet mass of Bella's hair threatening to ruin her makeup. "Have you showered recently..? Like in an actual shower. Not outside. You're wet and you smell like you just got back from a weekend at Woodstock."

"What?" Bella plucks up the neck of her t-shirt and sniffs. "I don't smell anything."

Alice looks over to the very tall, dark-haired guy that's standing behind Bella. She takes a step toward him and discerns he's the source of the pungent, herbal smell. "It's him."

"Jacob..?"

Jacob rolls his eyes. "What, are you gonna tell my dad?" he says in a sarcastic tone. "It was Leah and her friends smoking, not me."

Bella redirects her attention to him. "Wait, what?"

Alice fishes Bella's keys out from her coat pocket and unlocks the apartment door.

"Okay, maybe I tried a little...I mean, it was their idea. She said I needed to chill out," Jacob says, following them inside. "It didn't help, though, it just made me hungry. Do you have food around here?"

He sounds like a child. He must be one of her friends from Forks.

Alice's phone's going to ring. "Bella, why don't you go wash up while I take this?" she suggests.

"Take what?"

The lilting melody of Moon River begins to play. "Go on, I'll be here when you're out," Alice shoos her into the hallway and pushes her through the bathroom door.

She looks around the plain living room and at Jacob, who's in the process of digging through the kitchen cupboards. Bella's room will be quieter. She slinks down to the bedroom at the end of the hall and shuts the door behind her, sitting down at the desk chair in the corner.

"Hey," she answers.

"Hey. Is everything okay? Are you still waiting?"

"Bella's fine! She showed up finally, so there's nothing to worry about. I guess I was wrong...or something. I don't know. It's super weird."

"Well, I'm glad. Are you still at her place?"

"Yeah, I think I'll hang out a while longer and catch up. Are you going to sleep soon?"

"Will you let me know when you get home?" he asks, not answering her question.

"Jasper. You're not going to stay up until I get back, are you? I dropped you off so you could get some sleep." Alice looks around the room, surveying the cluttered stacks of books and knick-knacks. The feng shui and design composition in here is awful. Esme would die if she saw it. "Oh my god, she has a cactus in her love and relationships corner."

"What does that mean?"

"It's just bad. Like who does that?" Alice grabs the cactus and gets up to move it to the window ledge. She looks around the room and finds a picture frame face down on the dresser. She picks it up, looks at the photo of Bella and Edward standing in front of the student union building, and puts it where the cactus was. "Aww, I love that picture. They're so cute."

...

Edward stares down at the plane ticket on his phone. He has to leave for the airport soon if he wants to make it in time to board.

His things are packed, and he's not at all mentally prepared for what waits for him back home, but he's going to have to go home eventually if he wants to finish up his degree.

He's surprised when a call pops up on the screen of his phone from an unknown number with a New York zip code. He isn't expecting a call, but he does have a fairly wide circle of acquaintances who might be trying to reach him.

"Edward speaking," he answers.

He cringes at the sound of a grating voice, loud and demanding in his ear. "Seriously, what is wrong with you?"

"Sorry, who is this?"

"Rosalie Hale."

He rubs his temple and sighs. She's still one of the most irritating people he's ever had to speak to.

"Why are you calling me?" he asks.

"To tell you how you're a shitty friend. Why are you ignoring Emmett's texts? He's still wondering if you're ever coming back to Seattle."

"Are you drunk?"

"No, fuck you."

"Tell him I'll get back to him in a few hours," he says, hoping that'll get rid of her.

"It's already almost midnight in Seattle, in case you forgot."

"I can do basic math, thanks."

Rather than deterring her from continuing the conversation, his dismissive tone only sets her off further.

"I personally don't care what you do, but I'm sick of dealing with everyone complaining about it. Alice just called me and said you blocked her, but she's still stuck babysitting your accident-prone ex, which is super effed."

Bella. His heart drops in his chest. "What did Alice say exactly?"

"She seems to think that Bella is going to get herself in trouble because you guys broke up and she saw a motorcycle or something," she relays. "You've gotten the attention that you wanted, so you can come back and stop being an asshole to everyone. Well, more than you usually are, anyway."

Edward scowls, shaking his head. "When did Alice call?"

"Maybe ten minutes ago. She's been waiting outside of Bella's apartment for hours, though."

Edward ends the call, unable to take any more of her inane prattle. He wastes no time in finding Bella's number and dialing it.

If Alice thinks there's a problem, then he'll just check with Bella herself to see what's going on. One call won't hurt.

"Hello?" a deep, masculine voice answers.

His stomach feels like it just jumped into his throat. "Hi, is Bella there?"

"Uh...she's in the shower still. Who is this?"

He scrambles for an answer. "I was in her literature class. I was just calling to ask about the final."

"Oh, I can tell her to call you back. Do you wanna leave a message?"

"No, that's fine. Never mind." Edward taps the red phone icon on the screen and hangs up.

He crosses his room to the attached bathroom and dry heaves into the sink.

It's over.

They're done. They're actually done.

Bella's moved on. She has a new boyfriend.

While he's questioned her numerous times on the validity of her premonitions, Alice isn't one that would unnecessarily jump to surveillance duty, especially at this hour. She must feel certain this time.

A motorcycle. She's dating someone with a motorcycle.

He wonders if that's what she wanted all along.

It would have happened sooner or later, but he can't ignore the horrible acidic feeling in his chest when he tries to picture the love of his life dating someone else.

Bella will get married, have children, and grow old with someone else.

He waited too long. He thought he would have more time to sort things out. It all still feels so fresh and recent.

Maybe their connection isn't as mutual as he thought. He hadn't been able to give her all that she wanted, after all. He must have read the situation all wrong.

His flight feels irrelevant. Graduation and the bar exam are pointless.

He returns to his room and goes to the window, opening it and throwing his phone against the stone side of the courtyard with a dull clunk.

There's no point in returning home now. He can't imagine being any happier there than he is here.

His sliver of hope has been extinguished. He's never going to love anyone else as much as he loves her. He's destined to remain alone forever.

...

Alice sees the series of macabre visions in a blur, one after the other, jumping and skipping around like an unpredictable carousel.

She recognizes the dark-haired man from Carlisle's old college photos. Aro and Edward are talking. Edward's raising his voice, shouting, demanding. Two children with light brown hair stand watching, unbothered by Edward's display. He's trying to provoke the other man into doing something, but it isn't working.

"If you don't want to return home, then this can be your new home. You're more than welcome to have a permanent residency here, Edward," Aro says. "Law school can wait if you'd rather pursue music right now. I'd be grateful to support such talent."

No, he won't come home, but he also won't take Aro's offer.

Edward's typing up an email with a compiled assortment of billing statements, travel confirmations, hotel lodgings...

Alice doesn't understand what he's doing. It makes no sense.

He's standing on the ledge of a rooftop, teetering on the edge of a train platform, waiting on the side of a busy road at night...and back on the rooftop again. Hundreds of people watch from down below on the street dressed in red.

He steps off, air whooshing under his feet. He hits the pavement.

Alice's head throbs and she feels a dizzying panic rising in her chest. She drops one of the many paperback books she'd been organizing into a neat stack atop Bella's desk.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no no...shit. Sorry, Jasper, I have to go. I'll call you later," Alice says, hanging up with the tap of her finger.

Something happened. She doesn't know what, but something must have just happened to Edward to cause this. He's been depressed, she knows, but not suicidal.

He should be getting ready to come back home to Seattle.

She hurries back downstairs and sees Jacob holding Bella's phone.

"Who did you just talk to?" Alice questions, reaching her hand out for the device.

"Huh?" He pulls the phone out of reach, stepping away from her with a look of irritation. "Some dude from Bella's lit class called."

"Bella's not taking a lit class this quarter."

Bella returns to the living room just in time to catch the two of them arguing, her hair wet and wearing a large, grey hoodie and sweats. "What happened? What's wrong?"

Jacob shrugs. "I don't know. A guy called your phone asking about finals. I told him you were in the shower still, and your friend went psycho."

"That was Edward," Alice says impatiently, growing tired of the giant high schooler's apparent lack of awareness about Bella's life. His expression tells her he doesn't recognize the name, so she elaborates. "Her boyfriend Edward. Do you realize how that sounds? He just called to check on her for the first time in months, and a guy answers saying she's in the shower still?"

Jacob doesn't seem to follow. "If he's her boyfriend, why haven't they been talking in months?" He laughs. "First time I'm hearing about him. Or you, for that matter."

"Give me the phone!"

"No, what are you going to do with it?" He pulls the phone away, seeming to think it's a game.

She jumps, struggling to reach it as he dangles it up in the air. "I need to call him back! He's not taking my calls!"

Bella starts to slump over weakly, her eyes wide.

Alice abandons the phone to help her over to the couch. "Are you okay? Here, sit down."

"Do you think...I can call him back?" Bella says quietly.

Alice is fairly certain it's already too late for that. Edward is more impatient than not when it comes to things like this. "You can try, but I don't think he'll answer. He's been doing that a lot lately."

"Jake, can I have my phone back, please?" Bella asks, reaching her hand out weakly. He complies, and she attempts to return the call. "Yeah, it's not...it's going straight to voicemail. You don't think he thinks I'm cheating on him, does he? We kind of broke up, but Jacob's just a friend. We've known each other since we were kids."

"Well, he's not coming back to Seattle at this point," Alice answers humorlessly, already looking for flights on her phone. "From what I saw, He's moving toward very finite outcomes. He's going to try to pick a fight with his internship sponsor and then kill himself. He's not coping well with the misinformation. "

"How was I supposed to know?" Jacob questions defensively.

"Kill...himself? He wouldn't, would he?" Bella whimpers. "Not over something like that."

"I think it's time for you to go home, Jacob," Alice suggests.

His face twists into a scowl. "I'll go home when Bella wants me to go home. I've known her a lot longer than either of you have, and, like I said, I've never heard her talk about either of you."

"It's late. Go home," Alice repeats.

"I was here first."

Bella interrupts them, already starting to sniffle and cry. "I think she's right, Jake. I'll talk to you later. You should go back to Leah's."

There's only one person that could have caused this.

Alice shoots Rosalie a text message, furiously tapping through the keys as Jacob leaves. I can't believe you. You told Emmett, didn't you?

Rosalie's response chimes in. No and then I called Edward and told him to unblock you because he's being a jerk, but I haven't talked with Emmett.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Alice grumbles. "Bella, go put on real clothes and grab your passport."

Bella complies, weepily going to her room as Alice relays to Rosalie the consequences of her conversation with Edward. The entire reason why she told her not to tell Emmett was to prevent Emmett from blabbing to Edward.

Sorry, I didn't realize he would freak out. It's not my fault if that's what he decides to do, reads Rosalie's reply.

Alice knows better than that, though. Rosalie and Edward hated each other from the moment they set eyes on each other. Doubtful, she sends back. I should have known you wouldn't be able to resist making a jab at him. I can't believe you.

She tabs back over to her internet browser and books two business class flights with her credit card. If they leave in the next half hour, they'll make it to SeaTac in time for boarding.

They're going to have to go talk some sense into him before it's too late.