Author's Note Dec 2023: Thank you so much to everyone who wrote positive things when I first posted this; you brought me so much kindness during a difficult time. I apologize for leaving you hanging; I was totally over my head, writing my first ever story and going through said difficult time. After many months of honing my life and my writing, I'm in a great place, and at least for myself, I'd like to finish this story, so we can see what a less forgiving Bella may have done. I promise I have the whole story plotted (probably will be approx 75k-90k words), and the first half completely written – I'm committed to seeing this through. For those of you not willing to take a risk on an unfinished fic, no worries, I expect this to be done at latest in spring, and will change the status when it is. For anyone who wants to come along for the ride, I plan to upload weekly, with the next 8 weeks already lined up.

Original Author's note: It always frustrated me that Bella took Edward back without any anger at what he'd done to her or him having to really hear or understand what that time was like for her. I got twice as mad when I read Midnight Sun and learned that he'd been planning it and lying to her for months! I couldn't let go of my feelings about it, so I decided I wanted to see it myself. This story takes place after New Moon, although I didn't try to start it at any particular point in Eclipse. If anyone does read this, I welcome your inspiration on what you think Bella would do next.

"The whole summer?" I repeated. My voice sounded flat.

Edward didn't reply. After a moment he reached across the table for my hand, but I surprised myself by pulling it away.

"What do you mean... the whole summer?" He couldn't have.

"I don't... Is this important?" He asked. His shoulders had slumped. "I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere. I swear to you, Bella."

I held his gaze. He looked back with that sideways smile that experience had taught me was often a mask.

I thought about what he'd just told me. Finally I spoke.

"When you left me," I said carefully, "when did you decide to do that?"

The half smile was gone. His face was as pale as I'd ever seen it.. "I knew I had to find a way after…. after James."

My teeth clenched as I sucked in air. I braced my hands against the table, searching for something to hold on to.

"You planned it."

"Yes," he whispered. It felt as though that quiet word echoed around the kitchen and rang right through me.

"You were planning to leave me from May to September," I repeated. My voice sounded hollow.

"Yes," he whispered again.

"So the whole time," I said, my voice suddenly going from empty to full as my volume rose and my words ran together. "The whole summer, the summer I thought was the best of my life, when I felt so lucky to have you, when you promised me you were mine... every moment together, you were planning when to leave?"

He leaned forward quickly. "It wasn't – " he interjected, but I spoke over him.

"Why didn't you just do it at the start of the summer then? Instead of lying through your teeth for months - what were you waiting for?" I searched his eyes. I was almost surprised to see he looked just the same when my view of him was shifting so completely. It felt like an earthquake was shaking the ground under my feet. How was he standing through the earthquake unhurt?

He winced as I spoke. As soon as I took a breath, his response came back quick and urgent. It was almost too fast for my ears to catch. "You think I enjoyed lying to you, Bella? I was gathering the strength. I wasn't strong enough, but I knew I had to figure out how to be. I knew it wasn't safe for you. I had to give you a chance to live your life. I did it because I loved you. I love you, Bella."

I found myself staring abstractly at the stove over his shoulder as he spoke. His words felt like they were coming from very far away. "The whole summer... every day… all those nights."

"Please, Bella, I didn't know what else to do. You have no idea how hard it-"

"No!" My eyes narrowed as they snapped back to meet his. Without thinking, I threw up my hand as if to physically stop his words. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare tell me how hard it was for you." I knew once I heard his pain, my sympathy for him would override my rationality and I wouldn't be able to stay mad. And at this moment, I very much wanted to stay mad.

Determined to hold my resolve, I forced myself to think of how the time without him had felt. The emptiness. The hole in my stomach. The detachment from everyone around me - feeling like I was on the other side of glass while the world spun on.

It hurt to remember, but it worked.

"Edward," I said, "I want you to go home now. I need to process this." I was surprised by how calm my voice sounded. That was good - I was worried he wouldn't agree if he knew how close to tears I was.

"You want me to leave?" Edward said. Really, I wasn't sure if I wanted that, and when I'd said it I was only half sure I would be ok with him leaving. But his words reminded me of that day last September when he had decided to lie. You don't want me? I had said when he told me, and he had said, No.

But it hit me - that day last September hadn't been when he'd decided to lie. That's precisely what he was telling me right now: it hadn't been a knee-jerk panic. It had been a deliberate lie, a million lies building every day for months.

"I am so mad at you," I began, and this time I had to fight hard to keep my voice low, which made my jaw clench, "that I want to scream."

He stared at me. "I deserve it. Shout at me, whatever you need," he said, and he spread his hands wide, palms out, as if welcoming my anger. I looked at his left pinky, unable to bring myself to look at his lying face.

And I really was tempted to shout, because a vindictive new part of me wanted to hurt him. My adrenaline surged and I felt my nose and mouth scrunch as my lip curled.

I dug my nails into my leg. That focused me, and I realized that if I did want to hurt him, sending him away was the lowest blow I could deliver.

I looked straight in his eyes.

"I will see you in school tomorrow." I said.

He didn't move.

"Get. Out." I growled, the back of my teeth clenching together.

I had a brief glimpse of the pain in his eyes, and then it was gone as he slipped out the door in a blur. I stood up, too, and dragged myself upstairs.

I got ready for bed slowly, grateful Charlie was covering a junior officer's night shift and had therefore left me home alone. It was hard not to let my anger completely overwhelm me. I supposed this was the "fight" in "fight or flight." My emotions felt entirely physical. The barely-controlled anger pushed nearly all thoughts of the cause out of my mind.

But when I did recall the source of my anger - when I thought about his words, his lies - it made my breathing ragged and my stomach flip. Yes, better to embrace the "fight" than to feel the extent of this hurt.

I recalled the image of his eyes as he'd turn to leave - the pain was not as strong as I had seen Jane inflict on him in Italy, but it was a clear echo of it. And, strangely, I again felt my vindictive side from the kitchen revel in his pain.

I felt so betrayed. I burned with the hurt and anger, and I wanted to make him burn with me as punishment.

That burning feeling gave me the energy to go through the motions of getting ready for bed until, in leaning to turn off the bedside light, I saw the picture of us I kept there: a gift from Esme. My angel, with his tousled hair and half smile, staring down at an innocent version of me, while I smiled shyly back at him.

It had been taken that summer.

Suddenly I was sobbing.

I turned off the light and let the sobs rock through me. It felt hard to breathe.

In the darkness, I groped for the picture and shoved it in the drawer of my bedside table. The drawer banged as I shut it.

My thoughts were wild now.

He didn't love me enough to tell me the truth. We're not partners.

He lied. Every moment was a lie. He lied. He let me fall more and more in love. He lied. Our relationship is built on a lie.

My breathing felt so tight that a distant corner of my brain wondered how close I was to a panic attack. I wrapped my hands around my knees and sobbed into my pillow.

The perverse part of it was that the sobs made me yearn for his security, his cool arms firmly around me. I was so tempted to call his name. I knew he was probably pacing outside or crouched in the tree, listening. But that thought made me sob even harder - because were those cool arms really secure? I had thought them secure from May to September, too. All a lie.

As my sobs reached their peak, I heard his distinct tapping pattern on the window. I imagined I was scaring him. Good. Without thinking, I groped through the darkness for one of the pillows I'd pushed to the floor. The moment my fist found it, I hurled it at the window.

"GO AWAY!" I screamed. The anger calmed my breathing again, and eventually, I fell asleep.