A/N: I have a twitter account now, in case you guys are interested about my updates (or not!).

/ScienceGeek91

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all Twilight characters.

Bella

As I stood there outside Edward's apartment, after having pressed the doorbell once, I started having a panic attack. Was it the right thing to do? Showing up at his door on a weekend? What if he thought I was some kind of a mental a case, or worse, a stalker?

However, it was too late now. I couldn't sneak out now, like a coward. Why was he taking so much time to open the door? Did I still have a chance to walk away?

It was at that moment, that the door was opened. There stood Edward, in front of me. It was clear that he had just rolled out of bed. His hair was messier than usual, giving it kind of a 'bed hair' kind of look. I shuddered slightly. Now was so not the time to think about that.

He hadn't shaved so he had that morning facial stubble. Honestly, now that I had seen him that way, I didn't know if he looked better early in the morning, unkempt like that, or when he was dressed up for an occasion, like he had done at the concert. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, with a pair of grey sweats. Grey sweats? Who looks mouth-watering in sweatpants? Oh wait, Edward does.

"Bella? What are you doing here?" he asked; his voice was thick with sleep. Oh crap, kill me now!

I was so much preoccupied with the way he looked and the way he sounded that I just went ahead and said the first thing that came to my mind. "

"You see, I am a terrible cook," I started saying, sounding more and more stupid. He looked confused and raised an eyebrow. "So, I thought it would be too much of a torture for you if you had to start a day by tasting something I made," I took a breath and laughed out loud at my sorry attempt at humour. "Which is why, I brought you breakfast…" I said, wondering why he wasn't saying anything.

"But why?" he questioned.

"Oh, Edward," I began, while trying to move past him and get inside. Once I was in his apartment, I continued talking. "My mum says breakfast is the most important meal of the day and since I figured guys don't prefer elaborate cooking so you must be having a crappy meal. That's why I thought you should have breakfast, with me," I finished, hoping I didn't sound like I was forcing him to do this.

After I was done talking, I turned to face him. He quickly came forward and took the bags I was carrying in my arms and placed them on the table at the kitchen. I walked over to him.

"Um, that was very nice of you to think that way, but I can cook pretty well for myself," he replied, with a small smile.

"Oh, I know that look. Most men count making coffee and frying eggs to be equivalent to real food. But, let me tell you. Food is a type of an art that should be treated well and appreciated. It's not something that keeps you alive. You live for it," I reasoned.

Seriously, Bella? I told myself. That's the best you could do? Of all the things to talk about, you decide to lecture him on the importance of a proper meal? Pathetic.

"Err, okay. But I really need to clean up first. Make yourself at home and I'll be back in a minute," he said, with one of his devastating smiles. My head fogged up and my vision got slightly hazy. I blinked feverishly a couple of times and saw his back turned towards me as he walked to his room.

I took the opportunity to sweep my eyes over the apartment. The previous night, I couldn't see everything clearly as the place was in almost darkness. Now I could see that the place was neither as intricately furnished as a house decorated by a woman nor did it have the scruffiness of a bachelor's studio apartment. The loveseat and couches I noted last night were of a beige shade, placed above a navy blue rug. The coffee table placed at the centre was slim and modern looking. There was a modest sized flat-screen hung on the wall facing the loveseat – the one which played the wedding video. Sigh.

Right next to the living room, there was the kitchen – equipped with marble-top counters, a microwave and refrigerator. The dining table sat only three people. For some reason, looking at the small table made me really sad.

That was when Edward emerged from his bedroom. He hadn't shaved but he looked better and I had no idea how that was even possible. He had donned a black V-neck t-shirt and a pair of dark jeans, looking like he had just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot. His hair looked wet which probably meant he had just stepped out of the shower…..

Okay, that was definitely not the best thing to think about with him standing a few feet away from me.

I tried concentrating on the darker shade his hair wore – the water made the bronze look like chocolate. The messy hair, like always, fell on his forehead. My hands itched to sweep them away.

"Sorry for taking so long," he apologized with a small smile. "You must be starving."

What, starving? With you standing there looking delicious? Ha! Not a chance….

"That's not a problem," I mumbled, walking over to the dinner table. I reached inside the paper bags and started taking out all the food items. "So, I didn't know what you liked which is why I brought a little bit of everything. We have pancakes, croissants, bagels and some blueberry muffins. Is that enough?" I asked, as I suddenly realized men had a huge appetite. What if there wasn't enough for him?

He walked towards me and stopped near the table. "Bella, you didn't have to go through so much trouble. I can assure you, I can feed myself perfectly. Besides, it's not fair that you get everything for breakfast while I sit idle. Next time, we'll share, okay?"

Next time? Was he being serious?

He must have sensed something from my expression because he quickly added, "Only if you want, of course."

I stalled for a while then replied, "I'd like that." I turned my face to hide my smile.

"Okay, so the least I could do this morning is make coffee. You do drink coffee, don't you?"

I nodded as I watched him reach into one of the kitchen cupboards and take out plates and mugs and a coffee jar. He handed me the plates and I served the food while he turned on the coffee machine. When the coffee was ready, he brought the two mugs to the table and sat down.

We ate silently for a while, the only sound being the sipping of coffee and munching on the croissants. The coffee was surprisingly good and I had to say it to him. "Edward, the coffee is brilliant. I must say I am impressed," I said.

He looked up from his plate, and smiled wide. "Yes, you get good at it after making it for yourself for so long. Thanks," he added.

After we were done eating, I helped him do the dishes. I scrubbed them with the sponge, while he wiped them dry with a piece of cloth. After we ran out of the dishes, we stood facing each other, not looking in the eye. After a few seconds, he spoke up. "Thank you so much for this wonderful meal. I can honestly say that I haven't enjoyed one in a really long time."

"You're most welcome. But I wish I could have made something myself," I mumbled.

"From next week, I am cooking half of the meal. And you can bring the rest, does that sound good?" he asked, sounding sceptical.

"Yes. I hope you don't get tired of my company. It can be tedious at times," I said, with a laugh.

"I highly doubt that," he replied, looking serious all of a sudden. My laughter stopped and just like numerous other times, we kept looking at each other, neither of us saying anything. Like always, he was the one to break the trance. He looked away from me and snapped me out of my reverie.

"Um, I hate to say this, but I actually had a pile of work stacked up for the weekend. Since I stay at home on most weekends, I bring tons of work back home. So do you mind if I…?" he trailed off, not finishing the question.

"Yeah, sure, whatever. I don't mind," I replied, hoping I sounded more convincing than I thought I did.

He cracked a smile and went back to his bedroom. He came out with his MacBook Air secured under his arms and sat down at the table. He turned the laptop on and I, seeing no other option, pulled up another chair and sat down facing him. Thankfully, I had a book in my bag. I took it out from my bag and started reading, not exactly attentively because I was wondering if I should stick around for this long.

"Still a fan of classics, I see," he noted, raising his eyebrows. I turned the cover of my battered copy of Sense and Sensibility and smiled. "Well, yes. I really don't get tired of reading them," I admitted.

"I myself used to read a lot at one time," Edward said, his eyes looking distant. "I had an enormous collection that I had been filling up since I was a teenager. But after I decided to move into this place," he said, motioning the place around him, "I became conscious of the fact that it was time to shrink my book collection. Now all I have left are a few old copies of works by Shakespeare, Dickens, P.B. Shelley and more recent writers like Ian Fleming and J R. R. Tolkien. I also enjoy poems by Robert Frost."

I stared at him in awe, surprised to know this much about his preferences in literature.

I quickly looked down at my book and tried reading the sentences out loud in my head, hoping to tune down the confusing thoughts that were taking over my mind. Like, why was he telling me all these things, not that I was complaining. I just hoped that he didn't feel like he owed me explanations after last night. I didn't want him to feel compelled in any way.

I was certain he also felt like he had given away too much information because out of the corner of my eye, I saw him snap his eyes back to the computer screen. He worked silently for a while and I kept reading until the part where Marianne learns about Willoughby's betrayal. That was when a thought crossed my mind. I pondered on the possibilities of the outcome of my suggestion that I was about to make. I squared my shoulders and decided I would have to take my chances.

I cleared my throat, and asked, "Um, Edward? Can I ask you something?"

His fingers paused on the keyboard and he looked up from over the top of the screen and appraised my expression. He sat back, resting his shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. "Yes, sure. Go ahead."

All of a sudden, I started feeling dizzy. My head spun and I had to take deep breaths to calm myself. I could not think about what he would if he got angry with me. I'll find out soon enough.

"Last night, when I came in, you had your back to the television screen. Why was that so?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even and failing miserably.

The previous serene mask he wore changed into a gloomier one. He uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. He closed his eyes and it was obvious how much painful it was for him to talk about this. I cursed myself for bringing this about.

"I-I still don't have the st-strength to see her face, knowing that she's no longer for real," he replied, still looking agonized.

My insides churned to see him this way and I realized he had to overcome this, somehow.

"Edward, you cannot let that incident make you weak. I know it is very difficult for you…"

"You don't know anything!" he stood up from his chair abruptly, startling me. His voice was laced with hostility and his eyes looked angry, just like I had expected it to be. "I said I was not strong enough, not that I was weak." He shoved aside the laptop, leaned down on the table by resting both his palms on it and looked me in the eye. His face so close, I could feel the heat radiating from his fury. Impulsively, I leaned back on the chair. "If I were a weak man, then I wouldn't have been able to step out of the house and move on with my life like the way I had. You would have seen me moping around, cursing life and everyone who was in a better state than I was. No Bella, I am not doing any of those things. As a matter of fact, I am trying to do everything I possibly could to retain the normalcy of the remains of my life. So, you don't get to tell me that it made me weak….."

"Sshh, stop. Calm down." I placed both my hands on his shoulders and immediately felt him relaxing under my touch. I could tell the contact made him feel edgy but this time I didn't let him get his way. Keeping my hands there, I said, "I am not judging you, Edward. I am not that blind. I can see how well you have done with your life so far after going through such a traumatic experience. All I am saying is that there are certain aspects that you have to face and you cannot hide from them. Angela is a huge part of your life and will always remain that way. Her death can't change that situation and you have to prove it."

He subtly shrugged away from my touch and stood back, facing me. I stared back at him, hoping he understood all that I had said. I gave up when he didn't reply; I got up from the chair and I gathered my things. "I should probably get going. Please, Edward. Think about what I said." He was still standing with the same expression on his face, looking back at me. He didn't move an inch and I turned my back to him and exited the apartment.

Edward

I didn't want her to leave; that was not the intention of my outburst, not at all. I couldn't remember the last time someone had been nice to me without showing an ounce of pity. But, Bella did it effortlessly - make me feel good. When I said I had a great time, I realized that I had initially meant to say it out of politeness but it sounded very much true in my ears. However with those few words, she completely ruined the morning. Okay, may be I was more responsible for that, but I really didn't want her to say those things.

Amidst all we both had said, I vaguely remembered her talking about Angela in the present tense. That really surprised me. Wouldn't it have been more convenient and easier for her to talk about Angela in the past tense?

Suddenly, I felt too tired to think about all those details. I walked over to my bedroom, yanked open the cupboard and reached behind it to retrieve the small carton box I didn't have the heart to throw away. I sat on the bed, placing the box on my lap. Before removing the lid, I snapped shut my eyes. With my eyes closed, I trailed my fingers to feel the material lying inside. I felt the delicate chiffon, the bodice and the beaded neckline below my fingers. Slowly, I lied down backwards on the bed, bringing Angela's wedding dress with me. I turned on my side, pressing the dress to my face and breathed in deeply, hoping to find her scent in it, even though I knew it had been so many years since she had last worn it. Five years, to be exact. That realization brought angry tears in my eyes and with my eyes still closed I fell into a deep slumber.

---------------------

I could see her face, her hair blowing in the wind. She looked…content. Not exactly happy, but not sombre either. Her skin glowed in the sunlight, with her eyes sparkling. She was excited to see me, or rather, appear before me.

At first, the place seemed unknown. For one crazy moment, I thought we were sitting in Central Park, in the Great Lawn. However, after a while I realized it was just the backyard of my parent's house in New Jersey – the place where we had spent countless afternoons.

"You shouldn't have lost your temper," she commented. She sounded like a parent, scolding a child for doing some kind of mischief.

I could see her sitting in front of me, with her legs crossed. I couldn't see myself very clearly. I was just a hazy shape, unlike Angela who looked very much real. I reached my finger out to touch her but her fingers reached mine midway. She laced her fingers through mine and started playing with our adjoined hands.

Her hair was let down, as always, the ends curling in together. She was wearing a pale yellow dress which made her look more angelic than ever. She still took my breath away.

"You hate that colour. How come you are wearing it?" I asked, not answering her question.

At my question, she looked down at herself, seeming to realize for the first time what she was wearing. Then she looked at me and shrugged. "You don't reply to me and I don't answer your question. Tit for tat."

I widened my eyes in disbelief. The Angela I knew and loved would never respond that way. She saw the serious look on my face and burst out into a tinkling laughter that sounded like wind chimes. Without a warning, she lurched forward and caught my lips in a deep, unexpected kiss. Her lips moved with mine with the familiar rhythm, mine tracing the lines of lips, remembering the way they felt. It was then that I realized that this was the same person that I had fallen in love with. Nothing had changed.

She slowly pulled back and smiled at me. I didn't let her go. I grabbed her shoulders and quite forcefully pulled her into my arms. She murmured with a smile in her voice, "Behave yourself now; Esme might walk in on us."

I dipped my nose into her hair and breathed in her ever familiar fragrance. More proof that she really was there. "Come back, please," I pleaded.

I felt her sigh. She pulled back a little so that she could meet my gaze. "You know it doesn't work that way. But, I am so happy with the way you have handled yourself. You have no idea how much proud that makes me."

"You are so…..that is so unfair," I finished lamely, suddenly at a loss of better words.

She placed her palm on my cheek. "Do whatever makes you happy. That is all I ask from you. I will always be with you, Edward. Always….."

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I jumped up from my bed and found myself still holding her dress, which was then slightly damp from my tears. I wiped a single teardrop from my cheek, got up from the bed and placed her dress back carefully inside the box. I walked over to the living room, knelt in front of the television screen and turned it on. The video was still in it place. I turned that on too. After taking a deep breath, I pressed the 'play' button.

There she was, walking down the aisle, with her hands around her father's arm. Something heavy dropped at the pit of my stomach at her sight. Seeing her face in a conscious state was even harder than I had thought. She had her head bent down and a red tinge was present on her cheeks. She reached the place where the minister stood with the bridesmaids on one side and two other men standing on the other side. One of the men, who seemed like a stranger now, went forward and took her hand from her father's. The two then exchanged the vows and kissed passionately. When Angela's smiling face appeared on the screen again, I lightly trailed my finger along the screen, as my insides twisted and turned in pain. I started taking deep breaths and felt like I was choking. I couldn't take it anymore. The traitor tears started falling again. I cried the pent up tears I had not shed in the last four years. I cried for her, for my fate, for our baby, for the family I had lost and the future I would have had with them.

A/N: Review please?