Chapter song: Listen to Your Heart (J Crofts DUB remix) OR the original by Roxette
Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight.
A/N: One of the teasers I sent out will NOT be in this chapter. It just didn't fit and I felt Bella needed a little more attention.
Oh, and PS. This chapter is UNbeta'd.
For the first week after their talk, she spends it feeling confused and lost, her emotions never staying in one place. Every day that passes repeats itself in a vicious cycle that she has no idea how to stop.
Every morning, during the week, she wakes up to a fresh pot of coffee and a heartfelt note from her husband. Each note he wrote to her holds either a beautiful memory he had of the two of them, or something he says he loves about her. He used to do that for her every so often throughout their years together, but it's been almost a year since he's left her one. As she reads them her heart aches with longing for him and she starts to feel a little guilty as she thinks of how she's been treating him when she can see hard he's been trying. But then she thinks of why he's writing them in the first place and the hurt and doubt she feels get to be too much. She tries to close off those feelings by keeping herself busy, spending hours during the day walking along the beach with her camera, but not even that can keep her mind from wandering.
Thoughts about the affair don't seem to hurt her as much as thoughts about when he had ended it. That was supposed to be their day, the day they came back together and reconnected as a husband and wife should, and now it's been forever tainted. The fact that her husband was even in that woman's presence just hours before sends sickening pangs through her heart.
She's been tempted a few times to write all of what she's been feeling in her journal, but she can't seem to get herself to do it. Every time she pulls it out, it just makes her think of when he found it, which makes her question to herself on and off whether or not he was genuine about everything that day. But, then she remembers the way he had made love to her that night; the tenderness he worshiped her with as they moved together and even afterwards, when he gently ran his hands over her body as they kissed like he didn't want the moment to end just as much as she didn't. She knows in her heart that her husband had meant every action he had made that night, but it's her mind that still doubts. She always ends up throwing the offending book back into the far end of her closet where it's been since the night of their talk, wishing he would have just found it sooner.
During the day, it's her heart that seems to speak to her the most when she thinks about her husband. It's at night, when he comes home from work, that her mind does all the talking and she feels like she can't breathe when he's around. Every time he tries to talk to her, or every time he tries to do something nice, she becomes angry that he approaches her like she might break at any moment. It's at these times that she can't help but think he's only doing all of this out of guilt because she tried to kill herself. When she gets his texts messages during the day, her heart responds back that she loves him, but her mind always wonders if he's only doing it to check on her.
Every day she thinks about scheduling an appointment with the marriage counselor, but she keeps putting it off. She feels like she's not ready for that just yet, and part of her fears that she'll never be ready. She even cancelled her appointment earlier in the week with her therapist minutes before she had to leave, feeling sick to her stomach with just the thought of having to voice out loud all of the confessions her husband told her over the weekend. She still kept the appointment for next week hoping that, by then, she'll be able to.
Every night when she goes to bed alone, she has doubts that they will ever be able to make this work. The mistrust and anger she feels towards him is enough to where she can't even talk to him, let alone look at him. By the end of the week, as she's once again lying in bed alone, she starts to feel like he isn't trying hard enough. She doesn't know what else she expects him to do, considering every time he does try a little harder she becomes angry at him.
When the weekend arrives, she wakes up just as dawn approaches curled up around her husband with her head on his bare chest. Even while she sleeps her betrayed heart still knows where it wants to be. But, as she fully starts to awake, the same feelings she had the weekend before surface and her body feels like it's in a tug of war; wanting to stay right where it's at, but at the same time needing to get as far away as possible. Her mind always seems to win the battles when she's around him.
Gently removing herself from his arms, she quietly gets dressed and heads downstairs to go for a run, but not before leaving him a note this time.
While she runs, her thoughts are mostly the same confused thoughts she has had all week, but as she turns around at the south pier to head back, her thoughts take a different path.
She starts to run faster and push herself harder against the sand as the overwhelming feeling to just run away courses through her body. She thinks of how much easier it would be if she were to just give up and move on to a life without the constant battle she's been living through with her husband every day for over two years. The feeling is almost freeing until she thinks about what a life without that would actually mean. The pain she feels when she thinks of living any amount of her life without her husband outweighs any kind of pain she has ever felt throughout her whole life. She becomes frustrated with herself as her thoughts go back to where they were when she first began her run. She wants so badly to forgive him so they can move on together from all of this, but she doesn't know how that could ever happen if she can't get passed all of the hurt and doubt she feels.
Slowing her run down to a walk, she starts to feel tired as the rush of adrenalin she had felt earlier starts to wear off as quickly as it came. Looking around at her surroundings, she sees that the north pier is a lot closer than it should be and quickly realizes that she had somehow passed her house by about a mile. Just the thought of having to walk all the way back when all she wants is the comfort of sleep is all it takes for her to break down. Falling down onto the sand, gasping sobs start to wrack violently through her body as all of the anger, doubt, hurt, and frustration come crashing down on her. It takes her several minutes before she's finally able to calm down and when she does, the feeling of exhaustion is so overwhelming that it takes everything in her to stand back up. After greedily drinking from the bottle of water she brought with her, she heads back, walking the longest mile she's ever walked in her life.
Finally making it into the house, her thoughts are only focused on taking a cool shower and getting into her comfortable bed, that she doesn't even notice her husband in the kitchen until she hears his soft voice greeting her good morning. It's definitely not a good morning, but she greets him back anyway continuing her destination up the stairs towards their bedroom.
As she gathers the clothes she plans to change into after her shower, she hears him come into their bedroom and all she can think is, Not right now. Hoping if she just ignores him, he'll let her get on with what she was doing and wait for whatever he has to say until after she gets some much needed sleep. When he doesn't, anger surges through her and she snaps at him, instantly regretting the words as soon as they leave her mouth. She can't blame him for being worried, especially since it was only weeks ago that she had tried to kill herself, and the last thing she ever wanted to do was throw that in his face. Even as angry as she gets at him when the doubt of his true actions creep through her mind, she's still the one who put herself in that position. The selfishness in her actions that day trumped even her husband and his affair, or anything else he has done for that matter.
After cutting him off from whatever he was about to say, and telling him what she should have told him when he first came into the bedroom, she hurries into the bathroom before she says anything else she might regret.
Waking up from her nap, everything from earlier comes rushing through her mind and, just like the weekend before, it all seems like a distant memory to her. The thought of getting out of bed and doing the same thing she'd done every single day this week is enough to make her want to scream. She needs a break from all of this and with the festival coming up, she knows just what to do to keep her mind off of things.
After getting some much needed supplies for her darkroom from the photo supply store downtown, she ends up spending the rest of the weekend holed up in the basement. She knows she's avoiding everything right now, but she can't seem to get herself to care. She's sick of constantly feeling overwhelmed by all of her thoughts, and the difference in the pattern of how she's been spending her days is, so far, refreshing.
On Monday and Tuesday, she keeps herself busy by running around downtown buying new and antique frames to display her photos in, getting new business cards printed off for people to take during the festival, and anything else she thinks she may need. By the time she gets home, she has just enough time to get dinner ready before her husband walks through the door. As soon as she finishes her dinner, she takes off back downstairs into her darkroom, anxious to finish developing the rest of the photos to put into a portfolio in time for the festival.
The morning of the festival, she wakes up early knowing she still has to sign in and secure a spot in the park. After packing herself a cooler full of food and water to bring with her, she writes her son a quick note, since she won't be home for dinner, and leaves it on the counter knowing he'll see it when he wakes up. With how busy her morning has been so far, she still hasn't been able to read the note her husband left for her, so she grabs it and sticks it in her pocket to read later.
As she starts to load everything into her car, she realizes quickly that she needs help unloading once she gets there, unless she wants to take a few trips back and forth to her car. Thankfully, her son is able to help and follows her downtown in his own car so he's not stuck there. With it being so early in the morning, they are able to find close parking near the park, making signing in and unloading a lot easier than she originally thought it would be.
While she sets everything up on the faux wooden walls and tables the festival provided, her son wanders off to look around and even stops to help others unload. He sticks around for most of the day keeping her company, which she takes in every moment of knowing that in just a couple of months she won't have times like this with him anymore.
Around four, she gives her son a hug as he's about to leave and thanks him for helping her out.
Stepping back from the hug, he says, "No problem. Is dad going to meet you down here?"
His question throws her off for a second as she guiltily realizes she never told her husband what she would be doing today. When he had texted her earlier, she had been distracted with everything else going on around her that she had just texted him back with the same response she always gives him, forgetting to mention that she wouldn't be home.
Truthfully, she answers her son, "Probably not. I actually forgot to tell your dad I won't be home, so let him know where I'll be at. I'd call him, but I think he has a class right now." She briefly wonders if her husband will show up here after he gets out of work, and she's not sure how she feels about that right now.
"Then do you need me to come back to help load all this stuff up?"
"No, I'll be fine. You go have fun with your friends. Thanks again for today," she says, gratefully.
After they exchange goodbyes, she feels a little heavy hearted as she watches her son walk through the crowds of people towards his car. She had a good day with him and, so far, a good day all together which has been rare lately. But, luckily, she doesn't have too much time to think about it as a few people walk up to her station to look through her portfolios and ask her questions about her photography, sending her back into her element.
She spends the rest of the afternoon keeping busy and, at the same time, feeling relaxed. Photography has always been something she could lose herself in without the distraction of anything else, and being around people who share that same passion feels almost euphoric. Towards the end of the night, she sees the elderly man whom she had spoken to earlier, holding his wife's hand as they walk through the park. He had told her how he used to be a traveling photographer, documenting wars and other worldly disasters all over the world. He joked about how he was lucky enough to have such good looks that his wife of fifty-five years still stuck by his side throughout all of those long months he was gone. But she can easily see that it's the love they share that has kept them together all these years, and she hopes that it will be the same for her and her husband. Thinking of this reminds her that she still hasn't read the note her husband had left for her this morning, so she pulls it out of her pocket and lets out a small laugh as she reads.
I would love you even if your hair turned purple.
He had said that to her the night of her thirty-ninth birthday when she was upset that she'd found a few grey hairs while blow drying her hair. She remembers him laughing at her as she cried to him that she wasn't even forty yet before he realized she was serious. He was able to keep a straight face as he brought her face between his hands and said those words to her, but it didn't take long before the corners of his mouth had started twitching. She knew she was being ridiculous, and her husband always knew how to get her to laugh at herself when she was. That day seems like it was a lifetime ago when, really, it hasn't even been three years, making her wonder how everything had fallen apart so quickly.
Snapping out of the memory, she looks around and sees that others are closing down their stations, so she gets to work on packing everything up. Thankfully, she sold eight out of the twelve framed photos she had brought, making it easier to load everything by herself.
On her drive home, she thinks of how her day had gone and how bittersweet she feels about it. The time with her son was great, but she finds herself wishing her husband was there with her too. She still not sure how she would have reacted or felt if he would have shown, but at the same time it still would have meant a lot. She starts to wonder if maybe their son didn't tell him, but she knows that if that were the case her husband would have called her. Then she thinks that maybe he didn't show because her son didn't tell him until it was too late to come down there.
After pulling up into the garage, she doesn't even bother getting anything out of the car tonight and heads straight into the house. Walking through the kitchen from the garage, the note on the counter she had left for her son this morning mocks her; her husband would have seen that as soon as he walked through the door and he still chose not to come. She's not even able to glance towards the living room, where she knows her husband is at, as she walks up the stairs towards their bedroom.
As she gets ready for bed, her mind can't help but race. She's angry at herself for feeling so hurt over her husband not showing up, considering she didn't even tell him herself where she would be. Her therapist had told her that she can't always expect him to read between the lines, but then she thinks that if she were him, she would have showed.
After climbing into bed, she can't seem to shut her mind off as she tries to get some sleep. She tosses and turns for at least a half an hour until she gives up. Getting out of bed, she heads into her closet and grabs her journal, needing to get these thoughts out of her head and write them down.
This time, she doesn't throw it back.
RECOMMENDATIONS:
Total mindfuck oneshot, but so good: The Life Stealer by captainofyourship /s/6578123/1/
Something different: She Who Must Be Obeyed by WutheringBites /s/6442081/1/
Thank you, Crackylu, for pre-reading this so quickly!