His eyes, that never leave her face, as though enraptured by some beauty that the rest of us cannot fathom. His demeanour; the evident admiration and awe he bestows on her. His lips that smile whenever she looks his way, his face which follows her around the room. His Bella.
And her, so human, so alive, so unaware of exactly what she is throwing away. Her life; her chance at ever having a baby, her chance to create something so beautiful, so perfect. Her shining, happy face is ignorant of the pain she will feel later, when she finally understands all the repercussions of her choice.
They don't understand what they are doing to each other. Their lives will never be complete.
The others; Alice, Jasper and Emmett, even; think that I am jealous. Jealous that Edward has chosen someone else over me, over my incomparable beauty. There is some truth in that.
When I was alive, I was the most beautiful young woman anybody had seen. Men's eyes would light up when they saw me; women would stare at me with envy. I was adored, admired. When I was changed, my beauty shone even more brightly. No one could ever keep their eyes away from my body, my face, the round of my hips or the fullness of my lips.
No one, save for Edward. I was merely an inconvenience to him, from the second I was "born". I was a siren, my beauty ensuring that those who saw our "family" knew that we were... more than human. His eyes never lingered on my beauty. He saw it, and dismissed it. Because he, unlike those other men and women, could see what was inside. The vain, stubborn, childish thoughts that my mind was centred on. He looked into my mind and flinched away. He saw the ugliness beneath my perfect exterior. And I hated him for it.
I had always been loved, always wanted, always watched. I wanted Edward to want me too. It was an irrational desire, as immature and impure as a spoiled child. I, of course, did not want him. He held no interest for me. But, though we grew close, and he no longer resented me, and grew to love me as a sister, he never saw me like other men did. He had never shown any interest in any women, human or vampire, a fact which consoled me a little. Perhaps, as Esme suggested, he was too young when he was changed. Perhaps something was missing from him which meant that he saw no one that way.
But then he saw Bella.
She isn't particularly pretty, or especially intelligent. Her only talents, at first glance, seem to be her ability to trip on flat surfaces and to put lives in danger when playing non-contact sports. But she is thoughtful, and sweet, and utterly devoted to Edward for all that he is.
And he chose her; her over me. That knowledge still eats away at me, though not as strongly as it once was. You are not wanted, not by him; that's what I hear inside my head. Nobody would like you for who you are; only for what you look like.
I know that not to be true; Emmett has shown me that; and yet sometimes the jealousy gets the better of me. But jealousy over Edward's feelings is only part of the problem.
The second part is with Bella. I admit I am envious of her. She has what I seek more than anything else. A life. An opportunity. Which she is throwing away. She could marry any other man; the Newton boy, the dog, even, and live that life. Sometimes it takes all my self-control not to shake some sense into her. I know what she doesn't. I know what becoming a vampire really means. The loss of humanity.
And so I look at them, sitting together on a sofa, talking quietly to one another in low voices that all of us could hear if we tried. I watch as she drifts softly to sleep, see the gentle rise and fall of her chest. I watch him watch her appreciatively. His eyes skim her body and her face, which hold for him ten times the beauty of my ethereal perfection. He brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests his hand against her warmth.
Soon there will be no sleep, no breath, no warmth. Her heart will be as cold and silent as her beloved's, but will that ever be enough?
I scowl, knowing that Edward knows my thoughts and dismisses them along with my beauty.
I scowl; I sigh; I leave. Seeing them together makes me long for another life. The life they are throwing away.
A/N: So, Esme's story was meant to be a one-shot, but Rosalie intervened. She wanted her say. And my, is she self-centred. I'm sorry if it was very similar to the chapter where Rosalie speaks to Bella. I reread it right after writing this, and suddenly realised the similarity. Oh well. Please enjoy and review!