I remember when I was a little kid I had an odd fascination with birds. The tinier, the better. A bird made a nest in our backyard, and when the eggs hatched, I would pick up the tiny baby–birds in my hand and lift them one by one, as high as my tiny arms would go. Then I would run around screaming 'They're flyyyiiiiiiiing!'

Except they weren't. Except it was a lie. Except when I would let them go, they would fall flat to the floor. This was when my Mom intervened. She told me how even though my intentions were good, I was causing harm. How even though I thought I was helping them, I was making it worse.

How sometimes I needed to let them do this on their own. Fall and crash. Get up and try to fly again.

It didn't stop me from wanting to make things better, though.

––x––

I sit on my couch and stare at the TV screen. I don't know what's on. I'm too busy fingering the tattered arm of this thing. I can see the couch cover is torn – worn and old, tattered and useless. Damaged and unrepairable. Quite like me.

I've sat here all day, utterly unproductive and lost in my own head. I haven't eaten anything again. Edward will not like that. He will also not like what I have to say. What I've thought about over and over ever since last night, after hearing Jasper's words. I didn't sleep. I hope Edward did. He had work today. He couldn't afford to call in sick like I did. He couldn't afford to be unproductive. His day is worth a lot more than mine is.

His life is worth a lot more.

I get up and go to the kitchen, filling a glass of water and gulping it in one go, hoping it will help to undo the knot in my stomach. Hoping it will loosen the constriction in my throat. Hoping it will wash away doubt.

But when was life ever that easy?

I clean the kitchen while I wait for Edward to get here, and when there is a knock on the door, followed by a faint "Bella?" and the sound of keys, I know he's here.

I know that this is it.

"I thought you were asleep," he says softly as soon as he sees me standing in the kitchen. "You didn't open the door."

"You barely gave me the time to!"

He smiles and places a bag on the kitchen counter, then leans over it to kiss me. "I'm impatient."

I smile against his lips and simply climb on the counter, twisting till I am flush with him and my legs are around his waist. I take his face in my hands. "Then so am I."

And I kiss him properly, taking him by delighted surprise. I can feel his lips curving upwards, before he forces himself to not smile, and pouts to kiss me some more.

"What's with that bag?" I ask when we finally part to breathe.

"Oh. That. Um, you didn't have any groceries, so I thought I should save you the trouble. It's not much and I had to go buy some anyway, so… Some fruits too, since you don't like to cook much. I thought you could at least snack on that." He rubs a hand across his neck, clearly expecting me to create a scene.

I do want to. But I don't. I can't. Guilt is choking all the words I want to say. So I just hug him instead.

"Thank you," I say quietly into his shoulder.

"You're welcome." I can hear the surprise. I can even hear the smile.

"Edward?" I say after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"I've been thinking."

His body stiffens, though his hand never stops the rhythmic pattern of stroking my hair. "About what?"

I press my face further into his shirt collar. "Last night."

He sighs. "Well?"

"What we said in the car… I've been thinking more and more and the more I think, the more I'm convinced I'm right."

He sighs again, this time frustration evident in his tone. "Haven't we gone over this already?"

"Edward, you're not understanding –"

"There is nothing to understand. It just is what it is. You and me, against the world."

I'm losing patience. "It's easy to say that."

He's losing it too. "It would be easy to do it, too, if you cooperated with me a little."

"Look, you can't always hide behind impractical counter–arguments. Just listen to me –"

"No. We are not having this discussion, Bella. I know where you're taking this, and no."

"Edward, you have to face it!"

"Face what?" His voice is loud, incredulous.

"That you'll be better off without me. That what we have is at best a beautiful dream but in reality, a nightmare."

"You really think so?" his whispers, his voice losing all fight suddenly. "This is a nightmare to you?" His face crumples in pain and I hate myself for this.

"Not to me, but…to the world. The moment our eyes open to a new morning, reality creeps in. Every dream shatters. Just like us. We'll shatter, Edward. We will."

"So that's it. You're going to stand here and tear our relationship to pieces and ask me to leave. This is all I am to you? An inconvenience you can so easily get rid of? A nightmare." His voice is still low but scathing. "Fine. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and your sorry excuses. You could just say you never loved me and be done with it."

My eyes widen. "No! Of course I love you!"

"Bullshit, Bella. Bullshit."

"I am not questioning your feelings for me, Edward and I won't let you question mine! I love you. I do. From the core of my being. You are everything to me."

"Then why? Why are you so reluctant to fight for us? Why are you so…so…willing to back down?"

"I'm not backing down! I am just thinking from my head and not my heart. I'm allowing myself to make a rational decision. Do you not understand the consequences of this? Of us. Don't you see? Your parents will think that I'm a gold–digger, the society will ridicule you, your own daughter will be ashamed of her family – assuming Tanya even lets you have Sophie's custody once Jasper tells her who I am. Your business will suffer once Tanya's Dad withdraws his support. Everything will fall apart. Life as you know it will be lying at your feet in pieces and all you'll have to show for it will be an almost broke ex–whore with an estranged father and nothing but a bad reputation to her name. Why would you do that to yourself, Edward? Why? !"

I'm kind of crying by this point. He's kind of teary eyed too.

"Because I love you," he says softly, sincerely. "I love you with everything I am. I love you enough to fight for us. I love you enough to protect what we have. To keep it safe here," he places my hand on his heart and covers it with his own, "and not let society taint it with its judgments. You ask why? Why the hell not? Why can't we be selfish for once? Why can't we take what's ours and not let anyone snatch it from us because of a few bad choices in the past? Why not face them head on, show them that they don't matter, and start anew? We'll move cross–country if we have to!"

"Edward…all of this sounds wonderful in romantic novels, but this doesn't happen in reality!" I am losing patience again. "Why can't you see? What will you do? Shut down your company and work as a clerk somewhere? Uproot Sophie from the life she knows and take her to a strange place with stranger people? How will you even convince the jury that Sophie is better off with you than Tanya, as long as you have me? The only solution is for me to…for us to…to…" I force words past the lump in my throat. "To let go. Take a step back. Put family first."

He looks at me with accusing eyes. "That easy, is it now? That easy for you to say that we should move on and let go. That easy for you to see what you see as the more practical decision."

His voice is laced with hurt. I move my hands to either side of his face.

"Don't look at me like that," I say. "Don't look at me like you believe I don't care about us enough. Like I don't love you. That's not fair!" I sob. "You know I do."

"You have a really funny way of showing it."

"How can you say that? After everything we've been through –"

"What? After everything… what everything? Why am I always the one to take a chance on us? Why am I always the only one to believe in us?"

"I believe in us too, okay? I just –"

"You're scared. You're always scared. You're always, and I mean always pushing me away. You're always treating me like I'm some stranger just taking pity on you. You're always convincing yourself that I'm not doing this for you. When you don't have money, you'd rather go hungry than ask me for some, because you don't want to inconvenience me. Because you're so adamant on believing that I don't care for you enough to want to provide for you. How can I? No one ever did. Why would I?When I almost beat the shit out of my brother–in–law, it's not because I was enraged that he said disgusting things about you. No. It's because he questioned my morals. That's what you've always thought, Bella. That's your defense mechanism. And I get it. I do. I get that you've been hurt too much. That you're scared to let someone in again. To trust again. To let your walls down and let go. Because everyone you love ends up leaving. So you're going to, what, save yourself that heartbreak and do it yourself? You're going to hurt me, rather than waiting for the time when I end up hurting you? Well, you know what? Just face it – I won't let you."

He moves my hands from his face to fold my arms around my middle like a straightjacket. And he puts his arms around me and holds me so tight. As if his words would have more impact if his arms were searing them on to my skin. His breathing is harsh. I can feel it in my hair. I can't even form a word. My voice has abandoned me. All I know is that there are tears. So many of them. Soaking his shirt. Wetness in my hair as his eyes betray him too. Pain crumpling his shirt between my fists. And under all of that is the realization that he can read me as clearly as if my mind, my heart were spelled out to him in poetry he has recited a thousand times. He can tell me that I don't let him in, but the truth is, he's already running in my veins. Already giving me life. He just doesn't see it. Because I don't let him see it. Because it terrifies me. Because my stupid fears will not let him know how easily he can crumble my heart to dust. How he has all the power to.

"I'm sorry," is all I can hiccough out.

"Why? Because you're selfish? Because you can't see past you? Your feelings, your hurt, your past, your pain, your ego, your hunger, yours yours yours. I am nowhere in that equation, am I?"

"That's not true, Edward. I swear." I want to shout it, but it comes out as just a heartbroken whisper.

"Then why can't you see me? Why can't you see that maybe I love you far too much to let you go, even if it were the right thing – which it's not? That I need you. I need you, Bella. You can be the bigger person or whatever you think you're being by telling me we'd be better off without each other, but I don't know what you're trying to prove. You're only hurting me. Us.

"I'm sorry," I sob. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." All other words are meaningless right now.

"Then you're either with me, or not. For better or worse. Decide. I'm tired of this back and forth shit. I have feelings too and there are only so many times I can let you trample allover them." I hate the bitterness in his voice.

I pull him closer, if such a thing were possible. I tilt my head up to kiss his neck. I pull myself up straight and kiss his chin. My hand rubs the bitterness off of his strained jaw. "I'm with you," I say against his tears. "I'm sorry," my thumb says under his eyes. "I love you," my nose says, brushing against his. "I love you," my lips kiss on his. "I love you, I love you, I love you and I will never leave you."

And these words matter.

Maybe with time he'll believe me.