You can shatter my heart into tiny pieces, and you're the only one who can put it together again and cherish it like a priceless gift. Because in breaking my heart, you break yours too. We sin. We're both sinners. You sin against your wife and your kid; I sin against wanting to be your wife and bearing your child. We sin against our souls, just to appease our hearts.

–

It's been three weeks after that horrible incident, and I haven't sold my body ever since. Last week, I quit my job as a pole dancer as well. Ironically enough, I am starting out as a babysitter for a friend of Maria's. I look after a three year old girl named Kathleen, who is actually a devil in disguise, and my God she makes me work for my money. I've been babysitting her for six hours each day since the past week for a tiny sum, and I am already tired. Edward is all too pleased, though. He thinks it's endearing that I get to watch a kid. It stabs me a little whenever he says so, but I'll never tell him that, because that will just makes him feel worse.

Today I have a decent amount of cash. I just withdrew a little money from the account I keep my college fund in (it's so little, it's almost a joke), and I've decided to go grocery shopping. Like, the real deal. Not some milk here and bread there. I actually have a list. Edward helped me write it last Tuesday, and since Sunday is the only day off from babysitting as well, here I am.

I don't shop in such large stores often, so I am constantly bothering one employee or the other to know where stuff is. There are way too many aisles and way too many people here. It's sort of stifling. I'm so used to being alone.

I am finally on the aisle for toys for kids. If I get a little gift for Kathleen, maybe she won't be too antagonistic towards me and stop throwing her milk on my clothes. Honestly, kids these days…

I am choosing between the various toys that I can afford, when I hear a small girl whining.

"Mom, pleeeeeease can I get that? Please, please, please?" She pulls on her mother's dress and even stomps her tiny foot. It makes me grin. I am waiting to see what the mother does, but she just brushes the kid off, telling her she's on the phone with someone very important.

"But, moooooom!"

"I said no, Sophie. Let mom talk!" the woman says in a scolding tone, and my heart sinks. Sophie. Sophie. I look at the little girl, no older than six, dressed in jeans and t–shirt, with a cap holding her ponytail, and a pout on her tiny face. I look at the mother, impeccably dressed in a beige dress, nails freshly manicured, strawberry blonde hair pulled up and secured by a hair tie, looking like the picture of perfection that only belongs on a magazine cover. And I know. I just know.

He confirms it. Out of nowhere, Edward reaches out, his clothes matching that of Sophie, and lifts her into his arms. She squeals and giggles and the onlookers smile as they pass by. I can't make myself react. I can't even move.

"Let Mommy do whatever she is doing. You come to me, okay?" She nods against his shoulder. "What do you want, Princess?" he asks her as he kisses her cheek.

"I want that," she says with a smile, pointing towards the toys next to me. When Edward looks this way, it's easy to see that he is just as shocked as I am. But then he carefully composes his face into a blank mask, plasters a smile and comes my way with Sophie still in his arms.

"Hey," he quietly says to me. I can't reply because my mouth is suddenly parched. I feel like my insides are constricting, making it hard to breathe. Like I want to crawl out of my skin. Not an inch of my body is willing to cooperate. My muscles are frozen. I just worriedly glance at Sophie and Edward shrugs.

"Hey, Princess?"

"Yes, Daddy?"

"Say hello to my friend."

"Who is that?" she whispers in his ear, but it's loud enough that I can hear it.

"That lovely lady is Miss Bella," he grins at her, and the adoration in his eyes for his daughter is so clear that I feel an intense pang of longing. I want to feel this – what he feels. I want to look at a kid this way. I want him to look at my kid – our kid – this way. And the possibility of that is next to none.

Sophie smiles and says a timid 'Hi' to me and I mumble a 'Hi' in response, my thoughts filled with crushing fantasies.

"Your butterfly is so pretty," she whispers in awe as she points to my necklace and when I look at her radiant smile, I see Edward in her face. I see Edward in that little dimple she gets on her chin. I see Edward in her green eyes.

"You like it?" I ask, and she nods. So I tuck my grocery list somewhere between all the stuff in my cart, push my hair back and unclasp the chain from around my neck. Then I take Sophie's arm gently and put it round and round her wrist like a bracelet, and clasp it shut again. "It's yours, Butterfly."

"Bella, you don't –" Edward starts but I don't let him finish. I leave my filled cart right there and, thankful that I at least have my wallet in my jacket pocket, make a run for it before my tears spill. I don't care about the concerned and mildly amused looks that people give me. I just run out of there and take the first bus to my house.

Once there, I bury my head in a pillow and sob out all my sadness and desperate longing for the impossible.