It's been nearly fifteen years since I last loved my Edward. We've been apart since the day of the battle and I've been generally content. That is, of course until about three months ago. I took an indefinite break from the Volturi's repression and escaped Italy. Just me. I wanted to return to America and how could I possibly deny myself that freedom?

And since then, I have been different. I studied at ungodly hours of the night for college classes. I always smelled as if espresso came out of my pores and I always wrote Chelsea in secret. Anyway one night, I asked my boss if I could work overtime. I wanted to study. My boss at the Paradise Bakery always trusted me to stay late during the hours where no one wanted to work so it happened. And what happened that night... it was better than I could've ever imagined.

It was normal as usual. All-nighter students, people passing craving doughnuts, insomniacs roaming in the streets late at night. It must have been three or four people whom would stay awake to see the light of day. Often, I would take long breaks at slow times and study, hoping the words would sink in. I was so pleased with myself. I listened to violins while studying, like a good student. When I got bored, I organized the pastries so if my boss checked, it wouldn't matter what I did that night, just as long as the shop always looks well kept. I placed the truffles on platters and arranged them on shelves. Only my psychology book lay out in the open. I waited for customers, patiently, when the footsteps approached I decided to get some more teacake from the back in case coffee was not desired. When the door opened, I dropped my tray.

There was a thin streak of butter running down the side of the cake. It was so small, barely noticeable to a human. But it sent me off.
For a second, I screamed and cursed in my mind. I said my normal greeting and apologized for needing a moment; I needed to get my clean floor nice again. I knew that if I didn't clean it immediately, I wouldn't be able to get it off with any amount of my strength. Always being sanitary is simply in my nature. Although it was not in my nature to ignore my customers. To my surprise, there was silence. I reached into the familiar nearby cleaning cabinet and took out a small container, filled almost half way with a thin, clear liquid. I poured it on the floor; the artifical lemon scent permeated the room.
"I'm sorry..." I sighed, throwing away the crumbs, "I'm supposed to be helping you now." I stood and picked the tray off the floor, "That's why I'm here." I put the tray in the dishwasher.
"I've got time... everything I have is packed and soon I'll be home, with my sister, there's nothing I need to do. See, now, I don't need to search anymore. Now I found you." The voice was undenyably familiar to me at this point. I lightly scraped my finger on the side of the counter and prayed I wasn't hearing things.

"So you love me, after all these years we were apart?" I turned around and he was standing there, "Still?" I was at the counter, "HOW CAN YOU, ARON?" In an instant all the hurtful things Edward told me flooded my mind and angered me, almost as if Edward was saying it again. Aron held my hand bringing me to relax slightly, I neared tears.
I have never felt quite like that before.
Nobody's spoken to me, not about what I have been through ever since I left Michigan to look after my parents all those years ago so we talked and now we are different. I can trust him as I wanted to. He confided in me, mainly about how they struggled to stay alive. And I acknowledged such struggles. I also experienced them myself. We felt so completed that we nearly starved ourselves to death. Ten days we went without a drop of blood. Human or not. We just couldn't be apart. We both gave in and decided to hunt together in Aspen for a weekend. This is our very last night here. Earlier tonight, we simply watched people go by, waiting to see anyone who would probably count as fair game, any creep or scumbag would do.

"Good night." A waitress told us after a while, "Please pay at the front counter." She walked off and I refocused and closed my eyes to listen. I listened carefully, slightly disgusted with people.
They were a mess.
I took a minute to open my eyes to talk and I saw something I haven't thought of in years. There, on the table was an awkwardly shapen and well worn-out dull pencil. It was eraserless, of course. I knew that already. It rolled away, off the bill. I stood it up straight on the table to hold it. It started to fill me with very sacred memories of a time of complete happiness and bliss. I picked it up, the familiar heaviness weighed down my fingertips. I placed the pencil sideways on the table. As it rolled one thing suddenly caught my eye. It was a shadow. I pushed the thought from my head and looked at the face that I will swoon guiltlessly over.

Aron.
His name flooded me with happpiness, a rare happiness. I smiled, oogling him.
Aron.
It still amazes me how he never stopped loving me. No, he never stopped loving me ever, that is why he was never with anyone else since me.
Aron.
Aron is where my story ends.
I looked down at the pencil which had rolled to the ground. I was eight years old when I gave Edward that pencil. I had only just moved next door to him about four months prior, but he and I were already best friends.
I retrived the worn pencil swiftly, sucking in a breath, unsure of what I had just gotten myself into and it wasn't okay.
I heard him, he was there listening.
Here I am, torn between them without explaining them. Edward is my best friend. Edward is one of the reasons why I am the kind of person I am today. Edward is, without a doubt in my mind, the person whose caused me the most pain and suffering in my life. Edward was many things. But above all, Aron is my true love.

...

Before I end this story, I would just like to point out the fact that this story has been on my mind ever since I saw the deleted scenes of Twilight. Ever since then, my brain has scrambled, spewing out small bits of dialogue on the margined of loose leaf paper, a drawing of a lop-sided pencil with no eraser, a name, misspelled in order to achieve uniqueness. All of these small tid bits of inspiration have grown up and blossomed into this story... Forty chapters, averaging just about 1600 words each. Nearly eight months, covering the angst and heartbreak of 100 years. And here I sit, polishing off the ending to a story that I have been too afraid to write for nearly four years, and I am so full of happiness and gratitude. I am so thankful to all of you faithful readers who have helped me trudge on through the writers block all this time and even to those who read a line of this story and never think about it ever again. I am so delighted to have this story out there, since it always seemed to be the story that would never be written. I hope that if you liked the way I write and the way my mind seems to generally work, you will follow my work to FictionPress, where I'll be for a bit after a small hiatus. Oh, and since we have reached our coveted 1000 views mark, you can now follow me on Instagram, as promised, whatifitoldyou_writings and please do, I'd rather love it. Finally, as the sun sets on this story that I've truly poured my heart into all this time (I hope, by the way, that it goes without saying that this last chapter was now Cara's narration and that her and Aron will live on happily as Edward and Bella will live happily as well), I find myself in need of a well-deserved kip. A huge thanks to RetroReaction for writing my summary for this story and for just being her, thanks so much to Twilight and RetroReaction and really, all others who have inspired me through this journey, knowingly or otherwise. And so, for the last time in quite a while, I say, thank you, my lovely readers. Cheers!