now

The car was silent.

The heavy tension weighing down on us was almost too much to bear. It's been five shitty months of this. Five months of tension, screaming, crying, venting. Five months of fighting, but it's only been a month since we separated.

I sigh. Separated.

I was so fucking exhausted I'd probably be able to sleep for a year straight. I didn't want to think about this nightmare, yet it's the only thing constantly on my mind. I forget to eat most nights, but I can't forget us separating. God, it was like a dirty word, just thinking it made me feel like I deserved a slap.

We were over an hour into our drive from the Seattle airport and the silence was deafening. I made a move to turn on the radio of the rental car Edward had picked out. Before I could even touch the screen, he stopped me.

"No."

Just one word, no, not even a please after, just no. I couldn't bring myself to fight back, so I slumped down further into the car seat. Through my large sunglasses, I took a wary glance at my husband. I damn near flinched. His knuckles were bone white as he gripped the steering wheel, navigating us through the lonely roads. His jaw was tight and stressed. The heaviness of the fight we had back in Chicago was still hovering over us like a dark cloud.

Shit. I must've really fucked up this time.

You didn't do anything; I mentally repeated the words my only friend in that city had told me.

He's an asshole! A self-centered, lying, callous, asshole! Rosalie would say.

I dragged myself out of my thoughts to focus on mustering up some courage. It took about ten fucking minutes, but I eventually managed to say, "Are you going to speak at all to me or just ignore me?" I asked.

His exhaled sharply. "I'd prefer to ignore you." He ground out.

"You're such a child sometimes." I muttered.

He scoffed. "Me, a child? That's fucking rich." he gave me a quick glance before turning back to the road, "Fucking spare me, you're the one who always wants to fight!"

I rolled my eyes and refrained from telling him to fuck off. Instead, I crossed my arms and looked at the phone in my lap. Even though we'd been down each other's throats for the last five months, this hostility was still foreign to me. I hadn't ever been yelled at by Edward before we started having problems. Now it was every time we fucking talked. Before I could stop myself, I started thinking about how different this time last year was.

We were grilling every night. Drinking with our family until we were dizzy under the stars. In and out of the water at all times of the day and night. We were fucking every day, sticky with sweat from the humid air. We were happy. And I was gutted.

I frown.

I can feel the tears prickling and the lump in my throat grow heavier. I concentrate hard on the spot of bird shit on the window, so my tears don't run away from me. I could fall apart in an instant at this very moment, but I refuse to break. I refuse to look so weak in front of him. He's been so angry, hurt sure, but mainly angry and I refuse to let him see me not match that same energy.

He wants to be angry at me? Well, I can be just as angry as him.

Asshole.

I've got a lot to be angry about. His job, his boss, his coworker, him moving me across the fucking country for his job. Our family gave us so much shit about getting married young. Even Esme, marriage advocate number one, busted our balls about it. She said that young love was uncertain, told us to take our time to grow as an individual before growing as a couple. My dad was less graceful about it. Marriage could wait, are you pregnant, why the rush, what about school, is this about sex.

No, we were just in love.

You didn't do anything wrong.

We didn't listen, though, so maybe I did do something wrong.

A month ago, he had come home from work late, again, triggering me to start a nasty fight. By the end of it, we both ended up on the couch, sweaty, throats raw, bodies sore, having just finished an intense argument. Edward had leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, and turned to face the window. With his face hidden from me, he told me it was time we ended this. He told me he was tired, he couldn't do this anymore, he needed this to just fucking stop.

I agreed.

What the fuck else was I supposed to do? I'd been fighting for so long by that point, there wasn't anything else I could do. I was fresh out of fight. So, I fucking agreed. Before he even realized, I packed a bag, and left for Rose's place. I spent the following week in tears, bordering on absolute mental insanity.

At the end of that same week, he texted me about telling our families. I ignored him at first, I couldn't face it. I didn't want to admit that we had finally gotten to the point that was only ever a nightmare, but he was persistent. For days I was bombarded with texts, voicemails, and emails that I was eventually forced to answer.

I sent him a text asking when he wanted to tell them. He suggested to wait until next month during the annual family reunion back home. His reasoning was solid: it wasn't a major holiday, it was in the summer, everyone we needed to tell was in one place, and there were endless things to distracted them from our failed marriage. I agreed and he offered to take care of the trip. Rose said it was the least he could fucking do.

We were gonna pretend it was just a casual break up. Grown up, amicable, classy. We were just two people who grew apart. We still loved each other, and we'd always be friends, but we weren't in love anymore… And in case they didn't believe all that bullshit, Rosalie was ready with a ton of frequent flyer miles and an escape plan.

…

"Can you put your rings on, please? We're almost there." I heard him murmur.

I complied and reached into my bag, digging around for the blue velvet box he presented me with when he proposed. It creaked opened, elegantly securing my engagement ring and wedding band. I sighed in longing. The ring had a gold band with an elongated emerald cut diamond in the middle, two baguette cut diamonds on either side, and a delicate gold band to match. I knew one thing about this situation: I was keeping the fucking rock.

I slipped them on, not oblivious to the feeling of joy that ran down my spine as I saw it adorned on my finger once more.

When we were ten minutes away from Camp Cullen, I took the opportunity to let everyone know we were arriving. Our group chat blew up with texts of excitement and joy from everyone. Charlie was the last to send a message, a gif of RuPaul in drag saying, "can I get an Amen up in here?".

I chuckled, and when I looked up from my phone, I caught Edward quickly glancing at me. I cleared my throat, "It was my dad." I stated.

He just shrugged.

The next text I sent out was to Rosalie, telling her I was close.

R: I know bitch, I got your location :P

Me: *heart*

I smiled, missing my best friend to pieces right now. It felt like I was always missing someone. After so many months of fighting, I became a lousy communicator. Alice and I stopped having daily phone calls, Emmett and I stopped texting as frequently, and if our parents weren't calling, then I sure as shit wasn't either. I was busy, exhausted, and stressed so it wasn't a lie when I would use that as an excuse.

Camp Cullen's gates finally came into view triggering a deep shiver down my spine. The grounds were huge, and all elaborately designed by Esme. Camp was built on a remote plot of land close to a local lake near our hometown of Forks. It was beautiful, all trees and trails and water. It hosted the main house, a modern home with floor to ceiling windows, and four log cabins nestled behind. The design of Camp was cohesive, all five homes faced the lake and formed a U shape with a heated pool right in the middle.

Camp Cullen was called such because of the hijinks, but mainly the cabins. It was literally like going to summer camp for a week. Esme had not only designed the plans but also decorated each cabin to look like an old school Camp Crystal Lake situation. Two of the four even housed our communal bunks that were always filled with friends and family alike.

Before Edward made the turn towards the house, he stopped the car and sighed.

"I need to know we're on the same page. I need to know that this is what you want."

I looked away. "Only you know what you want, Edward. I can't make any decisions for you." I said gently.

"We won't be able to take it back, Bella. I just want to make sure that you're sure."

The grip I had on my phone tightened. Not in anger, but in anguish.

"All I know is that you told me you were done." I said quietly.

"You packed a bag and left, Bella."

"I wasn't going to kick you out of your home. I didn't want to fight anymore. I just needed time."

He sighed, heavy and frustrated.

"We can't take it back." He says again, grief dripping from his tone, "Do you…"

"Do I what?"

Edwards looked pensive; his brow furrowed in the way that spoke volumes. But this time I couldn't read him. I haven't been able to in a while now.

"We can't take it back." He enunciated each word slowly.

"I know, Edward. I just… can't think about this again, please just give me a minute and go." I say shakily.

I'm about ready to go into hysterics. Since the moment I left the apartment, I haven't known a moment of peace. When I'm not numb, I'm crying. Loud wails into the pillow when Rose is home, or silent tears in the shower when I'm alone. This is by far the greatest loss I've ever had to navigate through and I'm not doing okay.

Edward gave me my minute to collect myself before pulling the car forward. Slowly, he turns left, and the house in in view. I need be okay, because if I'm not, the whole casual façade wouldn't be believable. They'd see how devastated I am, and I'd have to run again. No way I was facing that shit alone.

Casual, just a breezy, beautiful, breakup.

Finally, we're in front of the main house and so is our family. I see the Cullen's, Alice and Emmett, Alices husband, even my mom and dad and their partners are all here this year. A full fucking house. Before I could even get out, my mom's already at the door pulling me out.

She hugs me long and hard, and I break like a twig. My tears are flowing freely now as a I cling to my mom, sobbing on her shoulder as she sooths me. My sunglasses are now flooded in tears as they run down my mom's arm. I haven't cried at all today, so I take the advantage because I don't know when I'll be able to during the week. I look up to several concerned faces, scared about what the tears mean.

"I'm just really fucking happy to see you guys!"

They all aw and take turns hugging me, some picking me up, others rocking me back and forth. When it's my dad's turn, he takes his time. My dad isn't the most sentimental, but I'm his only kid and he likes to take his time. He hugs me as my sobs turn into sniffled. He shushes me as he pats my back and tells me that I'm here now, and I'm okay and safe.

I'm not okay, though, and emotionally, I'm not safe.

hi y'all, just wanted to drop a note telling you guys how much i appreciate the reviews and the favorites. it's very validating so thnk u so much

i did also want to say that i proof all my stuff, so if you find any mistakes pls let me know so i can fix them. i'll try to keep up a consistent weekly update schedule from now on. i hope you enjoy my second chapter, see u next week