ENTRY 4
REMINISCENT
To: E Cullen
From: B Swan
Subject: Maybe...
Hi, Edward.
This is mad, I know. We haven't spoken in ten years, but I ... I don't know ... I saw you on TV last night -congratulations, by the way.
I don't even know if this email is still in use. It's been ten years, I'm sure you've changed your email address and you won't even see this. That's probably for the best, I'm only embarrassing myself.
Last night, whilst I watched you on TV, accepting your award, I remembered a few things, a few moments I've tried to forget. Funny thing is, I don't know if you know this, but ... you're impossible to forget.
Anyway, it's Valentine's Day and I was reminiscing. Remember that year you got yourself grounded? I was so upset. It was Valentine's Day and my boyfriend was locked in his room. I felt abandoned. In my head, I was the loneliest girl on the planet that night ... how naive was I? You felt bad and escaped your 'cell', only to fall from the tree outside my room during your heroic ascent. I laughed and laughed, so relieved that I wasn't in fact, the loneliest girl in the word. Until I realised your arm was broken. You hated me for a while (ten minutes or so) after that. I had guilt-tripped you and for eight weeks, you couldn't play your piano or guitar. I'm glad it didn't hinder you in the long run. I don't think I ever told you how much it meant to me though. I loved you even more for that grand attempt.
Thinking back, it's one of the fondest memories I have of us. So young ...
Anyway, this is stupid. And I'm sorry. You're famous now, I'm sure you've got more important things to be doing than reading emails from long-forgotten girlfriends of your youth.
I hope you're well. I hope you still smile like you used to -I think of that smile a lot too. Your mouth quirks higher on one side, it's perfect. It used to make my knees weak. You don't smile like that on TV.
Take care of yourself, superstar.
Your old friend,
Bella Swan.
Sitting back, I rub my hands over my face, exhausted and instantly regretting the decision to send that stupid email. It's been ten years, for crying out loud!
But there's nothing I can do now.
"Happy Valentine's Day," I deadpan —my words hollow in my empty apartment— snatching the bottle of wine from my desk and refilling my glass, feeling pathetic.
It's snowing. The large windows of my apartment offering me the perfect view of the city coated in thick, white snowflakes as the flutter, fall and rest. Romantic.
I scoff, moving to stand before the window, clutching my wine to my chest. There's nothing 'romantic' about my life.
I gave it all up to chase a career that gives me nothing but financial security in return. It took and took, and gave very little in return.
I don't know how long I've been standing here, lost in the past, locked in my tower high above the city; but my wine is long gone and the traffic below has slowed considerably.
An alert from my laptop grasps my attention, my head tilting curiously in its direction.
It'll be work, I tell myself, making my way over.
It's not work. My heart thuds like jungle drums in my chest, my hands shaking as I open the new email.
To: B Swan
From: E Cullen
Subject: It's been a while...
Hi stranger.
Holy hell, it's been a while.
Thank you for your email, it made me smile -that smile. Your smile. It was only ever yours.
Thank you, also, for your congratulations, that made me smile too. You always told me I could do whatever I set my heart to; your faith in me mostly unwavering. I owe you for that.
Happy Valentine's Day, Bella. You'll be pleased to hear that I've stayed far away from trees since I fell out of yours. There's a lot of firsts and lasts in my life that belong to you, and you alone.
Forgive me for saying this, I know you're a high-flying, powerful woman now, but I'm glad you still seem to fumble your words when you're nervous. You always did ramble when you were unsure of yourself and it always made my heart beat faster. I'm glad you still have that.
Sometimes, I like to reminisce too.
Take care of yourself, Bella Swan. You'll never ever be forgotten, stop selling yourself short.
Your tree-falling, crooked-smiling past,
Edward.
My throat is dry, I think it's the wine. It's not the wine.
I'm feeling brave, that's the wine.
Before I can stop myself, I'm replying.
To: E Cullen
From: B Swan
Subject: Whilst I have your attention...
Edward,
Those fumbling words were only ever yours. Only you can turn me back into a nervous teenager who always felt unworthy of your affections.
You should know that, too.
Your rambling former,
Bella.
His reply is fast, and earth-shattering -elating. I can't breathe.
To: B Swan
From: E Cullen
Subject: Incoming...
Where are you, Bella? I want to see you ... Are you free this weekend?
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