A/n: This is Charlie's POV of the week after Edward leaves Bella. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight series or the characters. I can only wish.

A week. The longest week of my life. Bella didn't leave her room unless she needed to use the bathroom. I went in there everyday to make sure she at least ate something. She looked…dead, for a lack of a better term. She barely ate. She barely slept. I could tell that she already lost weight. All she did was lay and stare blankly out of the window, as if she was waiting for something. There was no life in her eyes.

I talked to Renee. Maybe she would know what to do,

"I feel helpless Renee. All she does is sit and stare out of that window. She doesn't respond to anything. I don't know how to help her."

"Charlie, Edward broke her heart. I don't know what he said to her, but I know that she loved him more than anything. She would have given up everything for him. She needs time. And maybe even a change of scenery. For now the only thing you can do is let her know you are there for her whenever she needs you."

"Maybe I should put her in the psychiatric hospital for now. Maybe they can help her mend."

"Charles Swan don't you dare. If you do that, they will drug her up with happy pills, and that is the last thing that she needs. She needs time Charlie. Time to process everything and heal. It might take a while, but as long as we don't give up on her, I think she will pull through. Let her deal the best way she knows how."

I wasn't so convinced. Should I put her into a hospital or not? I was still undecided when I went to bed.

The next day I was surprised to see her downstairs cooking breakfast. Throughout that day and the next few weeks, she continued to stick to her normal routine.

After a few days it became obvious to me that she was only functioning enough to survive. A few days after that I realized that she was only going through the motions for me. She was trying to protect me from hurt. But if I thought about it, this hurt me more. It was supposed to be me that protected her, not the other way around.

And I failed miserably. As her father, it was my job to protect her from harm, and I failed. I should have let my disapproval of her relationship be known. I should have listened to my instincts that screamed at me that she would get hurt. But she was happy with him, so I kept quiet. Maybe if I had spoken up, she wouldn't be hurting like this. If she never recovers, I'll never forgive myself.