21 August 1918

The days drag on slowly, unwillingly and without any signs of positivity. The doctors had yet to see a case quite like the Vivas' before. Both hung on and had slow, steady breath, yet, both were dying at a rapid pace. My poor Cara, two days of turmoil without a single shred of good news to grasp onto.

But it was that third night in the living room that boiled my blood just enough to break my vow of silence. Cara sat on the edge of the couch at three in the morning. She focused on a single dot on the hard wood floor as she stroked the knit fibers of the pillow. She barely moved when Edward joined her.

"How are you?"

"Do you remember how beautiful life was when we did not worry about illness or death?" She looked at him as a half-smile melted his serious expression, "When it was just us: little, carefree children, ignorant to the world's problems?"

"Yes."

"I would give anything to go back to those times." She sighed and slumped down onto Edward's shoulder, immediately feeling a little better, "Thank you for letting me stay here." Cara breathed slowly.

"Of course." Edward said as he stroked her hair, "you know my parents love you." He smiled as he followed the path of a curly locke, "I lo—" he realized his intended statement a moment too late. There was no opportunity to censor, no chance of taking it back, he had to follow through and hope for the best, "I love you." Cara cocked her head to the side and met his eyes. She pulled a corner of her mouth up in a slight smile.

"Do not." She said as she turned back, indulging herself in the feeling of his fingertips gliding down her head and her neck.

"Of course I do!" Edward challenged.

"No."

"Why, yes… I do love you."

She shook her head.

"Why not?"

"You have never told me that before." Cara said simply, "if you did love me then I would never stop hearing it." She gave him a quick, knowing look, "I've known you for some time, Edward Masen."

Edward smiled, "Trust me, had I the courage, I would have told you every second of each day."

Cara turned her body a little and looked up at him with an entertained smile, "I don't believe you."

Edward smiled and continued petting the back of her head, "I don't know what more to tell you if you don't believe."

Cara shrugged, "Well, if you really loved me it would be easy for you to prove." She gave him a playful smile at which point he took his free hand and held hers tenderly. He moved his hand down to the back of her neck and leaned into her lips. The moment seemed to drag on for both of them before their lips met. Their hearts fluttered and beat wildly. It lasted for an electrifying moment then it was stopped. Edward pulled away.

"I'm sorry…" Edward said, searching her face for a reaction, it was stony and shocked, "I-I should have known that you don't feel that way." He gulped nervously and moved to leave the couch. Cara held his arm back. They looked at each other.
"I never said I didn't like it." She smiled a little and snaked her arms around his waist and meeting his lips with hers once more.

It was heaven.

It was bliss.

It was official.

For two days they remained in paradise, only to be disturbed by the bi-nightly morbid hospital visits. On the third day, a second visit produced a sour fruit. In the former bed of Mrs. Allegra Vivas, a local newspaper boy lay, shivering and coughing sporadically. Teary-eyed and understanding, Cara sat at the required distance from her father's bed post and wept as Mr. Desidero Vivas drifted off to an ignorant and blissful slumber.

The walk back was as chilling and disconcerting as the goodbye. Rain fell upon Cara and Edward in powerful blows, there only defense was an old black coat, used frequently by Edward's father. Beneath the inky shield, their hands never broke apart. Within the tragedy, there was an ever-present, comforting glow of love. Edward gave this to her out of a sense of long-repressed love and of his own personal goodwill. After all, the Edward we all know is a kind soul, if nothing else.

Yet, in the great city of Chicago, as well as within our own hearts, they could not escape the 'when it rains, it pours' effect for two things happened all at once.

On one side of the street, our young, wounded couple dodged puddles and rushing pedestrians. They skipped off the sidewalk and onto the street, moving quickly to avoid traffic. They took shelter under the awning of their local seamstress who closed her doors long before any sign of bad weather. Whilst still nestled in the sanctum sanctorum of the overcoat, Edward turned Cara to face him, holding one hand tight as he wrapped an arm around her waist. Cara looked up at him with teary, thankful eyes. In this moment, they hungrily shared a secret kiss.

On the opposite side of the street, up the few steps and through the main door of the townhouse, Elizabeth sat in the living room, tea in one hand, a crisp, clean book in the other. She alternated sipping and smiling as she silently rejoiced in the magic of print. She looked over to her husband with love in the armchair beside her. He read the newspaper with a furrowed brow and sophisticated reading glasses. More than once, he noticed himself having to clear an itchy throat or remove his handkerchief from his pocket and blot his forehead twice… thrice… perhaps more. He noticed his wife's loving glance and returned it suavely. When she looked away, he loosened his tie, noticing now that his hand shook for a brief moment then numbed at the knuckles. He rubbed his hand and looked over at his shiny glass resting on the coffee table. The ice cubes revealed the watered remains of a semi-mediocre scotch he recently purchased. He lifted his glass and lowered his paper. As he stood, he felt a little hazy, lifting the handkerchief once more and covering his mouth. It was not a dramatic, attention-hoarding cough, but a mere polite cough which tumble-weeded into a respectful throat-clearing cough.

A loud, rude cab driver sped past Edward and Cara, a tire dipping gruffly into a deeper-than-anticipated puddle and inflicted a downpour upon them which proved to be superior against the faulty protection of the coat. Edward and Cara separated and walked into the building just in time for the scream.

Elizabeth's tea dampened the couch as she rushed over to the limp, unconscious body of the strong, silent Edward Sr. who still held, in an extended hand, the newly blood-spattered handkerchief. Cara rushed to the telephone as Edward attempted to awaken his father: the new muse to their mourning.

...

Another late-ish update, but it's fine. I find myself looking forward to Wednesdays more and more as the plot thickens. It's brilliant. But anyway, a bunch of things happened just there. But the most important is that Cara's mother died, Edward's father is now sick and... wait for it... Cara and Edward are dating! Yeyy! I adore them together. I know that like the original books, some may prefer Cara/ Aron over Cara/ Edward (post in the reviews, you're opinion, if you will). Well, as always, remember the poll on my page, vote on that, review and I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay tuned for next week, cheers!