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"It was not your fault, Edward," she said, rubbing his back. "It was not your fault."
"It was," he sobbed. "If I hadn't been so selfish and asked her to come home, it wouldn't have happened."
"You wanted to be with her on your anniversary. That's natural, not selfish."
"If I had gone with her…"
His hiccups were garbling his words. It broke Bella's heart to see him like that. She hugged his huddled form, wrapping her arms around him from behind, placing her face against his back. She could feel each of his sobs.
"If… if I hadn't…"
"It's not your fault, Edward," she kept repeating. "It's not your fault."
"She probably… died instantly… they said… due to her injuries, and the trauma to her head… If only…"
"It's not your fault. Not your fault."
She rubbed his upper arms and his shoulders, and finally his neck.
"It's not your fault."
The tips of his hair were soft against her fingers.
"It's not your fault."
On and on she went, soothing and quiet, until his sobs receded and she felt him relax a little.
He sniffled and Bella left his side for a second to get him a box of tissues. Unsure whether he wanted her near now he seemed calmer, she sat back next to him.
He blew his nose and wiped his eyes.
He looked at her. His eyes were red and swollen, and his cheeks were blotchy.
"Don't go," he murmured.
So she hugged him again, and he placed his arms around her as well, burying his face in her neck.
"Thank you," he whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't say that," she replied softly. She kissed his forehead. "It's okay."
They were quiet for a long time. Edward's breathing returned to normal. She stroked his hair.
She tried to understand what he'd been through. He always thought the worst about himself, that he was fucking everything up, that he was doomed, that he was selfish.
She thought that he was stronger than he knew. He'd found his own strategies to cope. Maybe not the best ones, surely not the best ones, as far as the drinking was concerned. But he was struggling through every day, and he was trying to be better, she realized.
"I had to go and identify her," Edward mumbled against her neck, his breath caressing her. "Her family arrived two days later. They blamed me. They'd been blaming me for everything that went bad, or not the way they wanted, anyway. I haven't seen her parents since her funeral. Kate and Tanya come over every year for her birthday."
"That's… very thoughtful."
"No. After her death, there was a small boom about her photographs. An artist who'd died early, and all that. It was forced very much by her sisters. They wanted full control over her legacy. Irina had actually named them as co-heiresses to her work in her testament, so we three share the rights to it." He shrugged sadly. "I would gladly give it to them if I could be sure they wouldn't exploit her name and work."
Bella was silent. She had no idea what to say, and for a moment, she really felt like a little girl who knew nothing about the world.
"I'm sorry," Edward repeated.
"It's okay."
"I'm so tired."
"I'm tired too. Let's sleep, okay? And talk more in the morning."
He looked up, so close that their noses almost touched.
"Okay. Thank you, Bella. Beautiful Bella."
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Thank you for reading.