This is my first attempt at a short story in fanfic land; I hope you enjoy. Yes, this is a heavy topic. The bulk of the story is written, and I anticipate posting one chapter per day, until the end. Depending on readership, I may ask for opinions at some point on one tiny detail that will impact the ending.

No copyright infringement is intended. All copyrights belonging to Stephenie Meyer are hers, and the remaining original ideas/content are mine. Thank you.


Edward squeezed his wife's hand on instinct, wanting to pull her into his body. It was unimaginable, unthinkable, but right there smacking them in the face. He was glad the doctor hadn't dragged it out, instead getting straight to the diagnosis.

Bella withdrew her hand from Edward's and covered her face. She'd wanted to be strong, wanted to put on a brave face for him, for their baby, for their family.

She failed.

Edward stood from his chair, got onto his knees, and embraced her as much as he could from that position. He pulled her closer, as close as he could, and held her as tightly as he could without harming her.

Thankfully, the doctor let them grieve together, quietly, for as long as they needed.

When they'd finished holding each other, crying, and making silent and spoken promises, they turned back to the doctor to discuss their options.

The weeks and months that followed involved genetic testing, multiple surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation, long, pink, ugly scars, vomiting, and more. If Bella had thought labor was exhausting, it had nothing on cancer.

The beautiful, flowing chestnut locks Edward had so loved thinned, falling out in clumps in Bella's hands. Her eyebrows disappeared, eyelashes fell off, and when she thought she could bear no more, her pubic hair disappeared.

At least I don't have to pay for a wax, she thought and laughed lightly, a move that turned out to be more painful than she expected.

When Edward came home from work that night and found her sobbing quietly in bed, he emailed his boss at the hospital to request a leave. He'd been trying to manage helping Bella during his off time, as she had insisted several times, but he was done. These could be his last weeks with his wife, he'd be damned if he let her tell him to go away from her all day.

After he'd done that, he went to the bathroom and shaved his own head. He'd never been more worried in his life, but for some reason this gave him comfort, this act of solidarity.

Bella's body was frail and fragile in the following weeks, and Edward had gone as far as to call in his own parents to help. They were managing with Ren, but just barely.

He was so in love with her, both of them – his daughter and wife – and the thought of losing either one of them, especially when he'd only begun to feel like his family was complete, often reduced him to tears. Or sent him into an angry rage. He let these things out in private, and would never know that Bella had overheard him once in the bathroom, alternating between sobbing and bargaining.

"Please, God," he whispered. "Take me. I don't know if I can do this for much longer. I can't stand by and watch her suffer like this."

Crying softly, he put his face in his hands and let go.

Bella turned and walked back to the bed, curling up and allowing the guilt to consume her only briefly.

When she heard him finishing up in the bathroom, she took a deep breath and recomposed herself. He needed her, for just this day maybe, to be stronger than he was, though he'd never admit it.

Edward saw her in bed, not in the living room where he expected her, and he was worried.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly, rushing to her side.

She turned to face him. "Yeah. I just wanted to lay down for a minute. Lay with me, please?"

Knowing what she looked like – hell, she saw herself in the mirror every day – she felt self-conscious constantly. What man would find a bald, sallow, skin-and-bones woman attractive? She prayed in this moment that he wouldn't reject her.

I would really love to know what you think. Review, please?