"What was it like to love him?" asked Gratitude.

"It was like being exhumed," I answered, "and brought to life in a flash of brilliance."

"What was it like to be loved in return?" asked Joy.

"It was like being seen after a perpetual darkness," I replied, "to be heard after a lifetime of silence."

"What was it like to lose him?" asked Sorrow.

There was a long pause, before I responded:

"It was like hearing every goodbye ever said to me - said all at once."

- Lang Leav-

A Story Left Unwritten

Later, when I thought back on everything, I had to wonder how I had gotten through the next days. Later, once the worst of the emotional upheaval was over, I thanked all my lucky stars that I had my job, something to focus on.

And Rosalie. Someone to lean on.

I didn't tell her about the whole thing at first. Picking up the phone or driving to the salon to see her would have meant I had to talk about it, that I would have to say the words. And once that happened, once the words were there, outside instead of inside, it would become real.

Or not exactly. Everything about this was as real as it could get, after all, and a few words wouldn't change anything. They wouldn't make anything worse or better. But I knew they would be like small daggers punching through my heart, and I didn't need daggers. I didn't need more cuts. I still hadn't recovered from the previous blow, the one that had left a gaping hole instead of several, smaller ones. If words were daggers, it was very ironic that it hadn't taken a single sentence to leave that aching, bleeding gash in my heart; a moment of silence had accomplished what no words could.

So, I worked. I picked up a few extra shifts. I got up in the mornings. I forced myself to eat, I drove to the café, and then I came back home again. And on more than one night, I lay in bed fully awake, staring at the darkness and wondering if the man with the cornflower blue eyes and sad smile was staring at the same darkness. We were in the same city, under the same sky, so surely the darkness was the same, too?

Maybe it was fate's cruel joke that it was the only thing we got to share. Darkness.

On the seventh day after Carlisle had left, I took off the sapphire necklace. I put it in the drawer in my bedroom and locked it. Then, I took the key and...and I put it in the freezer. For some reason, it made a lot of sense in that moment.

After I'd missed three calls from Rosalie and hadn't returned any of them, she came to see me. She took one look at my face and knew.

"What happened?" she asked quietly, even though the answer was there in my eyes.

I gave her a weak, tired smile and closed my eyes. "He left. He's gone."

I didn't have to say anything after that. Warm arms wrapped around me, and for the hundredth time during the course of a few days, there were hot, burning tears in my eyes.

I told Rosalie everything. I told her about Esme, about the divorce that had taken place years ago. I told her about my conversation with Edward, and I told her about the little girl with blue eyes and dark hair. And I told her about Carlisle, about our discussion in my kitchen. I told her how Alice had been the invisible focal point of the conversation, regardless of the fact that her name had never even been mentioned.

Then, I told her about my love confession. And I told her about Carlisle's reaction – or the lack thereof – and she shook her head, squeezing my hand and replacing the empty hot chocolate mug in my hand with a full one. Rosalie and her hot beverages. She firmly believed that chocolate in all its forms was the best cure for heartaches.

"Alright," she said, crossing her arms over her chest and giving me a questioning look, cocking one delicate eyebrow. Her expression was fierce. "Do you want me to send Emmett after him?"

I gave a soft, sad laugh. "No."

"Okay. I can go myself. I'd be happy to."

I shook my head and smiled sadly. "I appreciate it, but...it's alright. It's not like he did anything wrong. In fact, I kind of feel like..." I sighed and trailed off.

"Like you're the one to blame?" Rosalie supplied, narrowing her eyes. "That's crazy. Where's your self-esteem?"

"I still have it, I hope. What I meant was, I'm the one who developed feelings for him when I shouldn't have. I mean, it wasn't part of our deal, now was it? I was the one who proposed this whole thing, after all. I said it didn't have to go anywhere, and I gave him the impression I was fine with it. But then, I began to have expectations, even though I knew I had no right to have those."

"You're only human, Bella. You can't help your feelings."

"I know that. But you were right all along. I should've talked to him about this much earlier, and I should've put an end to our relationship, since I knew it'd never go anywhere. Since I knew he couldn't give me anything...more."

"He's not completely innocent when it comes to this, you know. He misled you. He gave you mixed signals. He also gave you that necklace and said a lot of things that got your hopes up and made you believe that, maybe he wanted something more, too."

I shrugged. "Maybe. Or maybe I was just seeing things that weren't there. Anyway, you were right when you said I'm not good at casual. And you were right about something else, too. Maybe I was secretly hoping I could fix him. That I could make things better."

Rosalie pursed her lips in a pondering manner, leaning back on the couch. "He could've told you. About his daughter, that she died."

I shook my head and sighed. "I don't think he could've. Edward said...he said he's never heard Carlisle even speak Alice's name after she died. That's how much it hurts him to talk about her. Edward said the only person Carlisle can talk to about her is Esme. Apparently, even therapy didn't help him. It only made him worse." I stared down at my mug.

"You're still worried about him," Rosalie stated softly.

I sighed. "I guess. Even though he might not feel about me like I feel about him, it doesn't change the fact that I just want him to...be alright someday. I think fourteen years is a long time to feel guilty. I'm sure it's hard enough, trying to get over the death of his child and deal with his grief, but to feel like he's responsible for her death as well?" I shook my head. "I wonder...if he hadn't been a doctor at the time, when the accident happened..."

"Would he feel less guilty that he couldn't save her?" Rosalie finished for me. "Maybe...or maybe not. He probably feels like he failed as a father as well."

I nodded. "Edward said something like that. He also said Carlisle has a twisted sense of responsibility. I kind of see what he means. He blames himself for everything. He seems to think the divorce was his fault as well."

"Why is that?"

I shrugged. "Apparently, he... Well, he obviously didn't cope with Alice's death well. He said he wasn't there for Esme when she needed him."

Rosalie's eyes were sad. "I'm sure it must've been hard for her. But things like this...they either bring people closer or tear them apart. Sometimes, there's nothing anyone can do about it." She hesitated, giving me a curious glance. "I've been wondering...why did Carlisle's brother tell you all this? That Carlisle has a dead daughter? He doesn't even know you. Why share something so personal with someone he's only met twice? You're not that loveable," she teased me, making me roll my eyes.

"Gee, thanks." A small grin pulled at my lips, and I realized it was the first time in days I'd smiled. But then, I sobered, and I tried to think of a way to answer her question without feeling like I wanted to tear my heart out.

"I asked him that myself. Edward...well, he seemed to think telling me would be...worth it. That it might change things. He seemed to think – or maybe he was just hoping, like I was – that Carlisle wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with him. He thought, if all those things about his past were out in the open, it'd make it easier for him to start an actual relationship with me. That, if I learned about the things that trouble him, we could give it a real shot this time. Edward just wanted Carlisle's loneliness to end. He wanted to see him happy."

"Oh." She hesitated. "You know, I'm not sure if I would've had the guts to interfere like that. I'm kind of mad at his brother now, too. It was a bit risky to go telling you he believed Carlisle wanted to have something more. He got your hopes up, and that's wrong. I mean, you can't really go making people promises like that."

"It's not like he gave me guarantees or promises," I disagreed lightly. "And...well, he seemed very sure of himself, and he said he knows Carlisle better than anyone. I know he meant well by doing what he did. He seems like a sweet man. And an honest one. He warned me about Carlisle's limitations. He said that, if I wanted to stay with his brother, I'd have to kiss the thought of having children goodbye. He said becoming a father again is pretty much Carlisle's worst fear."

"Wow. Talk about commitment issues."

"It's not a commitment issue, not really," I explained. "He's just...afraid. He's afraid that, if he cares too much, he'll lose someone important again. That he'll fail someone important again. Like he failed Alice...and later Esme."

Rosalie shook her head, smiling sadly. "Well, I think the term 'twisted sense of responsibility' is definitely too mild." She paused, giving me a close look. "Did you consider it, then? What it'd be like, if you knew you'd have to give up having children?"

I shrugged. "I'm not sure. I...I still don't know how to feel about the whole thing. I'm sure starting a family is very important to some people," I flicked her a meaningful look, and she grinned, "but I've never believed having children is absolutely necessary for a happy and complete life. I've always believed those things came along in life when the time is right. And if they don't..." I trailed off and shrugged. "Well, then they don't. It's kind of like if someone comes and asks you if you someday want to get a cat. How are you supposed to know if you someday want a cat? Even if you don't want it today, maybe you'll want one in ten years."

Rosalie narrowed her eyes. "You're comparing having a child to getting a cat?"

"No. That's not what I meant," I answered, rolling my eyes. "And what's wrong with cats, anyway? They're awesome. They just sleep and eat, and they don't give a crap about anything or anyone. They're probably the smartest creatures on this planet.

"But anyway, what I tried to say is that, having children is just one choice among hundreds of others. And sometimes, having them or not having them is not a choice. For some people, the thought of becoming a parent is the most important thing in life, but sometimes, it happens that having children proves to be impossible. Or...it's been taken away from you some other way."

I bit my lip and thought of sad, blue eyes. "My point is...while it's good to think about these things and sometimes even plan them beforehand if you can, it's also important to accept the fact that life isn't a script. You shouldn't take anything for granted. You should never plan too much. You should never say never."

Rosalie nodded. "I agree. That's exactly right. You should never say never. That's why...well, that's why I kind of understand why Carlisle made the decision to leave. As much as I hate it that he hurt you like that, I can also see where he's coming from. Kind of. Because, if you're at least a bit uncertain about whether you want to have children, sharing a life with someone who definitely doesn't want to have any...it could lead to a lot of regret and bitterness later. Maybe he wanted to protect you from those feelings."

I shrugged, staring at the rug on the floor. "I guess. It's just that..." I swallowed hard. "It would've been nice to have a say in the matter, you know? If he can make a huge decision like that for himself, I have the same right."

Rosalie regarded me carefully for a minute. "Are you saying that, if given the chance, you would've wanted to stay with him?"

I closed my eyes and breathed in slowly. "I just would've liked to have had a choice, instead of having him walk out my door like that. But...what I wanted, or what I want now, is kind of irrelevant. I mean, I still don't know if he left because he wanted to spare me from a difficult choice and possible feelings of regret, or did he leave because..."

I let out a sigh, opening my eyes. It was a moment before I continued, and when I did, I struggled to keep my voice steady. "When I told him I was in love with him…and when he answered me without using any words at all…well, it seems impossible that silence can hurt more than words, but it can," I gave a joyless, quiet laugh.

There was a book on my coffee table, and I stared at it. It was Carlisle's book – I'd borrowed it from him weeks ago. It had been sitting there on my coffee table for these past days, and I still couldn't bring myself to move it. I couldn't even bring myself to touch it. Therefore, the thought of picking it up, climbing into my truck and driving past his house to drop it in his mailbox was...insurmountable. It was just a book, and yet, it seemed to represent everything I felt at that moment. It was just a book, and yet, it was driving me crazy with its mere presence. It was just a book, and yet...and yet, seeing it brought me some strange comfort.

Rosalie's voice pulled me from my thoughts, and I forced my eyes away from the book.

"Want to do something tomorrow night?" she asked, and I was grateful she had changed the subject. "Emmett's having a boys' night out with his friends. You should come over. We'll order pizza and watch a good movie. Nothing romantic if you don't want."

I gave her a wan smile. "Thanks, but I have a double shift at the café."

Rosalie pursed up her lips. There was something like concern in her eyes. "Let me guess. You've done a lot of those during the past days?"

I shrugged. "I just...I can't stay here. It's so quiet." Letting out a slow breath, I stared at the book on the coffee table again.

"I know. But I don't want you to work yourself to exhaustion. If staying here feels hard, you get up and leave. Come visit me at the salon, or you could come spend a few nights at our place. I think Emmett's company would do you some good. And a bottle of whiskey."

Her attempts to cheer me up weren't fruitful. Her words made me remember my conversation with Edward, how he had told me about finding Carlisle with an empty bottle of whiskey and sleeping pills all those years ago.

I hadn't told Rosalie about that. It had happened a long time ago, and the matter was just too delicate and personal to share.

I tried to give her a small smile and recall what she'd said a moment ago. "Emmett does have a certain way to look at the world and make you feel better, no matter what the situation. I think whiskey is a bad idea, though." I paused, sipping my hot chocolate, before it would go cold. "But anyway. You don't have to worry about me, okay? I'll be fine...eventually. I just have to remember what my post break-up routine includes, and I'll be fine. I've done this before."

Rosalie's eyes were sympathetic. "You mean...after James?"

I shook my head. "No. I, uh...I mean that I've gone through this process with Carlisle once before, in a way. Just after I met him, after I gave him my number, and he didn't call me. Of course, it's not the same thing now, since I know exactly what I've lost, but...I think it's very ironic, but also somehow fitting, that I had to pick up the pieces of myself, that I had to get over him, in a way, before I'd even learned to know him. Before we'd even shared a single kiss. Before we'd even started." I swallowed. "I just wish I'd known it was a prelude of what was to come."

"And if you had known?" she asked quietly. "Would you have gone through with it, anyway? Would you have chosen to be with him, regardless of how it ended?"

I had to think about that. Would I give up these past few months? I wanted to think I was grateful I'd had this short time with him, but there was still too much hurt. The pain was still too fresh; there was no space for gratitude inside me yet.

I also realized something about Rosalie's question bothered me, and it took me a moment to understand what it was.

"That's the thing," I murmured eventually. "When he walked out last week, I felt like the whole world ended right then and there. But, at the same time...I felt like nothing ended. How can you put an end to something that didn't even have a real chance to start? How can you get over someone, or say goodbye to someone, who was never truly yours? It's like..."

I paused and swallowed, wiping a hand across my eyes, as my vision blurred. "It's like...there's no word for this feeling. It's not pain, and it's not hurt, and it's not disappointment...but at the same time, it's all those three. How do you deal with that? With something you can't even describe?"

Rosalie took the mug from my hand and placed it on the coffee table. Then, she wrapped me in a tight hug, her hand rubbing my back in soothing circles.

"I don't know, Bella," she answered. "Maybe you'll just have to take it one emotion at a time, instead of trying to deal with all of them at once."

"And what if even that feels like it's too much?" I asked, sniffling.

"Of course it feels like that. Maybe it's supposed to feel like that. But you'll get through it. It may take time, but important things always take time. You didn't fall in love with him overnight, and you won't stop feeling sad overnight. Give yourself time, and let your feelings run their course. All of them." She paused and pulled back, nodding toward the coffee table. "Is that his book?"

I nodded. "How did you know?"

"From the way you're looking at it. Here's an idea. When you've moved past hurt and pain and sadness, and when anger and fury step into their place, you come to me with that book. I have very sharp scissors, and I'm sure Emmett has darts we can borrow," she raised an eyebrow, smiling.

I wasn't sure if she was serious or not. Wiping away my tears, I gave a soft laugh. "I'm not going to destroy his book. That's just...immature. And it's a book. I love books. I don't want to hurt them."

"You know, Bella...it's not healthy to give emotions to inanimate objects."

"Yeah, I guess not. But I'm not destroying it. When anger and fury take over, I can come and visit Emmett's punching bag instead."

Rosalie smiled, giving me one more tight embrace. "Deal."

Later that night, after she had left, I found myself standing next to the coffee table, staring at the book. After a moment of hesitation, I picked it up. I had never finished reading it. I flipped through it and opened it at the bookmark, removing it from between the pages, deciding to leave the book unfinished, just like we were left unfinished.

Then, I closed the book again with a sigh and took it to the kitchen counter, thinking that maybe it would eventually make its way into my truck. That maybe I'd have the strength to drive past Carlisle's house one day and leave it in his mailbox. It was just a book, after all. Just a story left unread. Just like our story.

Or maybe not. It was impossible to read something that never got written, after all.

A/N: Bella putting the key in the freezer is a reference to a TV show, F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (season 3, episode 13). Joey's reading The Shining, and he puts the book in the freezer, because he finds it too scary. Very logical.

Bella's obviously not very happy in this chapter, but I didn't want her to go all "New Moon" after Carlisle left and stop living, like she did after Edward left her.

Thank you for your reviews. As always, I appreciate them more than words can describe. I'll see you in a few days.