Twilight belongs to Stephenie Meyer

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Where the Lines Overlap

Final Season - We are Broken

(Tell me it's okay to be happy now, because) I'm Happy Now

My mind wavered between disbelief and clarity. Edward's confession hit me like a struck chord—sharp, reverberating, impossible to ignore. For a moment, the air seemed thinner, as if I were standing on unstable ground. But then, inexplicably, I found my footing again.

"I came back because of you," he said, his voice trembling with a conviction I wasn't ready to meet. The space between us felt charged, too close for comfort.

He took a step forward, eyes fixed on mine, searching for something I wasn't sure he would find. The desperation in them cut deeper than his words ever could.

"I didn't know you were back in Washington, Jazz. But I... I was planning to track you down, find you and—"

His voice faltered, and he looked away, chest rising and falling as if trying to force the words out, the weight of whatever he was holding back threatening to crush him.

"When I got the job at the hospital and saw you—when I realized you'd be my boss—"

"I'm not your boss, Edward," I said, the correction slipping out automatically, though it sounded hollow even to me. But he wasn't listening anyway.

"I couldn't believe it. I didn't know what to do. You were there," His gaze was relentless, pulling at something deep within me—a thread of history, a faint tug of what had been. "But then I found out you were with Mark, engaged to be married, and I couldn't—I couldn't mess with your life. But—"

"And what are you doing right now?" The question escaped before I could filter it, as soft as the tension tightening in my chest.

He flinched but pressed on.

"I'm sorry. I just… I can't let it end like this, not without telling you the truth."

The truth.

The word hovered in the air, trembling with significance. My chest tightened, and I exhaled slowly, deliberately, to steady myself. His gaze bore into mine, unrelenting, as if daring me to close the gap between us, to bridge something that had already fractured beyond repair.

For him, the truth was something unfinished, a plea wrapped in regret. For me, it was the sharp clarity of what had already been decided.

I thought of Mark—his steady hand at my back, the way his voice softened when he said my name, the way he'd chosen me over and over, even when it hurt. Edward's truth might have lived in the spaces between words left unsaid, but mine was here, grounded, unshakable.

"What truth, Edward?" I asked, my voice soft but steady. The question wasn't an invitation—it was a boundary, firm and unyielding, though my chest ached with the weight of it.

He swallowed, the silence between us stretching thin.

"I know you're marrying Mark tomorrow. I know that. But… you still love me—I know you do."

"Edward," I started, but he shook his head, desperation etched into every movement, every unsteady breath.

"You told me yourself. You said it—you've never stopped loving me."

My shoulders sagged under the weight of his certainty. But even as he searched my face, hoping for some kind of sign, some kind of confirmation, all I could feel was the ache of knowing what I had to say next.

"It's not like that," I said gently.

I met his gaze, steady and firm despite the emotions swirling beneath the surface.

"I explained that to you. Yes, I still love you, and I always will. But it's not like you're hoping for. I'm not in love with you anymore, and I haven't been. For a long time."

For a moment, the silence felt like the final note of a song. But Edward exhaled sharply, breaking it, and then his hands moved to unbutton his shirt.

Confusion rooted me in place.

"Edward—"

"Maybe you've just forgotten… " he said, his voice trembling yet determined. "What we had, how strong it was."

The shirt fell open, and my eyes flicked to the ink etched over his chest.

"Do you want to know what my tattoo really means?" he asked. "I already had it when I said goodbye to you in this very yard, twelve years ago. I got it the week after I broke up with you. So I would always have my home with me, wherever I was."

His words took a moment to land. Then, slowly, he stepped closer, pointing at the intricate design, urging me to look closely.

"Tell me what you see."

It took me less than a minute to decipher the design. The first musical note curved into a J, its line flowing seamlessly into the middle stroke of an H, while the second musical note completed the letter. Above them, the lines formed an A, like the roof of a house.

Unintentionally, the letters spilled from my lips, no more than a whisper:

"J, A, H."

I met Edward's gaze, and he nodded, his voice barely audible.

"Jasper Alexander Hale."

I felt my eyes narrowing as I frowned, feeling almost disconcerted.

His nods grew firmer, his eyes locked on mine.

"You're my home, Jazz. Always were, always will be. And I can't stay away anymore. I can't—I want to go back home."

The words landed like a stone in my chest, heavy and cold. My mind flashed to his words at this very yard, the day we'd first really talked after he came back.

"I missed my home."

Then to Emmett's house, where he had explained the meaning behind his tattoo.

"It's my home. My real home."

My gaze dropped to the grass as something sharp and sorrowful tugged at me. I could feel my chest heavy but not with longing. Not with regret. Just… sorrow. It felt like my heart was breaking for Edward, but not because I wanted what he was offering.

"I used to be your home too," Edward continued, his voice thick with emotion. "What we had—it was strong. The strongest thing I've ever had in my life."

I looked at him again, and I saw the desperation in his eyes, the faint glimmer of hope that I knew I was about to crush. My throat tightened. I hesitated, and that was all Edward needed.

He stepped closer, his voice trembling but resolute.

"You told me you never stopped loving me. We can work this out. We can—"

"Edward." I shook my head slowly, the word coming out like a sigh. "I've already told you, it's not like that."

But the hesitation lingered because I didn't want to hurt him—I'd never wanted to hurt him.

Edward took my face in his hands, his touch warm and trembling. Our foreheads met, and I let him. My body felt locked in place, my voice swallowed by the weight of the moment.

"Stop me," he whispered.

I closed my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I didn't. I couldn't. Not because I wanted him to go on, but because I didn't know exactly how to break his heart and shatter his hope. I didn't know how to face the pain I was about to cause.

My hesitation was all he saw, though. And then his lips pressed against mine.

The kiss lasted only a moment, but it was enough to hit me with brutal clarity. The wrongness of it—the lack of spark, the hollow echo of something that once was—punched through me, louder than anything Edward could've said. It was a reminder of a bond long since broken, and that hurt more than anything.

Those were the wrong lips. The wrong hands, the wrong hold. And the hurtful part is that I already knew.

Edward wasn't the home I'd built my life around.

That home had walls of steady kindness, a foundation of unshakable love, and a warmth I couldn't imagine living without—and he was sound asleep in my old room.

Gently, I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed him away. I opened my eyes, meeting his with steady resolve.

"I loved you more than I thought I ever could. And that love… it's still with me somehow, but it's not the same anymore. It's not the love that moves me, that drives my life."

"But you said—"

"I told you my love for you changed," I interrupted, my tone firmer to make sure he heard me. "I told you it's something I keep with me, something I treasure because it was once important. But I also told you I had to let it go. And I did."

"No. I saw it… when we talked on Emmett's birthday. I saw it in your eyes. There was something there—you were as affected as I was."

"Yes, Edward, you still affect me, how could you not, what we had was real and it held a huge part of me for a while, but now… now that's just an echo… just ripples in a whole river…"

He blinked, his expression flickering with confusion and heartbreak as I continued.

"What I have with Mark—deep, all-consuming, immeasurable—the kind that grounds me and also makes me fly, that fills every cell in my body, that is the air I breathe—that's the love that drives me. I love him with everything I have, everything I am. He is my whole heart. Even now, over eleven years after I first fell for him, I'm still in love with him as I was on that first day. I've been in love with him for all these years. I love him more than anything I've ever loved. He is the love of my life."

I saw the tears building before they fell, his face crumpling with an agony he couldn't hide.

But I had to go through and finish what I had started. I took a deep breath, my voice firm but kind.

"It's him, Edward. I'm sorry. I can't go back to you. I love him. It'll always be him."

A sob racked through him, silent but unmistakable, his chest shaking with the depth of it, as though the intensity of his emotions had no voice but his body.

My chest tightened and I stepped forward, pulling him into a tight hug. His shoulders shuddered against me, and I held him as best as I could.

"I had to try. I couldn't just give up again," Edward murmured.

My throat felt tight, but I managed to say, "I understand."

He exhaled sharply, a mixture of relief and grief, as though the admission had taken everything he had left.

"Do you think... it would have been us tomorrow?" He asked, still clinging to me "If I hadn't broken us?"

The question pulled me in two directions. I could smooth things over, shield him from more pain. Or I could simply be honest.

Edward made it easy for me to decide. I felt him still holding on, waiting for something I couldn't give him.

Slowly, I stepped back, breaking the embrace. My hand lingered on his shoulder for a moment before it fell away.

I sighed, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes.

"I think… you were right back then when you said we'd eventually break. Not for the reasons you thought, but because, no matter what, my feelings for Mark would've prevailed. They would've only grown stronger, just like they did."

I saw the sadness deepen in Edward's face, his lips parting as if to speak, but nothing came out. I pressed on, even though it hurt.

"I'm sorry. I just—I have to be honest, Edward. So everything is clear, once and for all. We can't keep carrying this with us."

He nodded slowly, resigned.

"I'm sorry for barging in on the eve of your wedding, but—"

"You just needed closure," I said, cutting him off gently. "Like I did when we talked right here, eight months ago."

Edward nodded again, more firmly this time, though his expression remained heavy.

"I should go."

"Edward." I took a step forward, catching his wrist in a soft grip. "You're not going away again, are you?"

He hesitated, glancing at our hands.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to do that," I said, tightening my hold for just a moment before loosening it. "You should stay. You should be here."

His gaze lifted to mine, searching.

"Do you want me to stay?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "I want you in my life. You're still important to me, E. I want to fix this—our friendship."

Edward stared at me, his expression softening slightly before he exhaled a shaky breath.

"I'll stay, then. For you."

I released his wrist and shook my head gently.

"Not for me. Stay for yourself. For your family."

He blinked, his lips curving into the faintest, bittersweet smile.

"Take care, love."

He stepped back, turned, and disappeared out of the back gate, leaving the faint sound of the latch clicking behind him.

...

The house felt too quiet when I stepped back inside, a strange mix of sadness and relief swirling in my chest. I let out a long breath, feeling the weight of the conversation with Edward lifting, only to leave behind a subtle ache.

But when I entered my room, the air shifted. Mark stood at the window, his back to the door, his hands resting lightly on the sill.

For a moment, I didn't move. Then the realization hit me—he might have seen. He might have seen everything.

It was as though the floor had disappeared beneath me.

"Sunny," I whispered, my voice trembling as I rushed toward him.

He turned before I could reach him, his head bowing slightly as he let out a sigh.

"Sunny..." I tried again, slower this time, my heart racing with fear.

He lifted his eyes to mine, and I stopped dead in my tracks. His face was calm, but there was an unbearable sadness in his expression, one I didn't think I'd ever seen before. His eyes glistened, and then a single tear escaped, tracing a slow path down his cheek.

"Why are you doing this?" Mark's voice was quiet, broken, yet steady enough to slice through me.

I opened my mouth, confused for a moment, before the weight of his meaning sank in. The realization froze me, my breath catching as his words lingered between us, jagged and unyielding.

"Mark, nothing really happened—" I started, my voice faltering as I scrambled to soothe him.

He shook his head, slow and deliberate, silencing me with quiet finality.

"No, Jasper. Not that." His gaze locked onto mine, steady and piercing, cutting deeper than I was prepared for. "Why are you marrying me?"

I gasped, the question slamming into me, leaving incredulity in its wake.

"What?"

His eyes closed, more tears slipping free as he took a deep, shaky breath. When he looked at me again, there was a resignation in his gaze that made my stomach churn.

"Why are you marrying me, Jasper?" he asked again, softer this time. "If you love him."

The room spun for a moment, and I reached for him, cupping his face in my hands.

"Mark. No. I'm marrying you because I love you. You, Sunny."

His tears fell silently as he looked into my eyes.

"Are you sure?" His voice cracked as he pressed on. "Are you sure it's not because it's easier—because I'm your shield against the hurt? Are you sure you're not marrying me just to avoid facing the hurricane that comes with choosing him?"

I shook my head, almost violently.

"How can you think that?" My voice was barely audible, trembling under the sting of his accusation.

But he didn't stop. His words spilled out, low and urgent, as though he couldn't hold them back.

"You can have him, Jasper. He's right there, within your reach. This is your life—your decision. You don't have to stay with me just to spare my feelings."

"Mark, stop!" I stepped closer, but he retreated, his arms wrapping tightly around himself like armor.

"I don't want you to be with me because it's safe," he said, his voice breaking, trembling with something too raw to contain. "Because you're afraid of being hurt again. If it's him you want, you should fight for it. You should go after him."

"No!" The word ripped from me, frantic and unsteady, desperate to make him understand. "Mark, you're misunderstanding all of this. I don't want him. I don't—"

He shook his head again, his shoulders quivering as a sob racked through him, raw and silent, tearing at something deep in my chest.

"I can't do this, Jasper," he said, his voice low and distant, each word laden with what seemed like exhaustion. "Not right now."

"Mark, please," I begged, closing the space between us, my hands reaching out instinctively, searching for some way to anchor him—to anchor us.

He turned sharply toward the door, his movements unsteady but decisive.

"I need air. I can't breathe—I just need to get out of here," he said, his tone quiet, frayed, as if the words were slipping free without him fully grasping them.

"Where are you going?" My voice cracked, panic rising fast and fierce in my chest.

"I don't know." His answer was hollow, lifeless. "But I can't stay here."

"Don't do this. Please, Sunny. Don't—"

But he didn't look back. His steps were resolute, his shoulders hunched against my pleas. He grabbed the keys from the counter, and moments later, the sound of the front door closing echoed through the house like a final note of despair.

I stumbled after him, bursting outside just in time to see him getting into our car. The engine growled to life, its sound cutting through the stillness of the night. I ran toward him, but before I could reach him, he was gone.

My legs gave out beneath me as panic surged, sharp and unrelenting. My chest tightened, breath tore out in short, ragged gasps. I clawed at my throat, desperate for air, but it wouldn't come.

I couldn't lose him. I couldn't.

The thought hammered through me, relentless, as the world around me blurred. My grip on control slipped further with every passing second, and I felt myself spiraling, unable to hold on.

Without Mark, there was no steadying force, no grounding point. It was as if the ground beneath me had crumbled away, leaving me suspended in freefall. My breaths came shallow and rapid, my chest locked in a vice. I sank to the floor, curling into myself, arms locked tightly around my knees.

Focus. Breathe.

Mark had taught me this—pulled me through moments like these more times than I could count. But now he wasn't here, and the thought of it nearly dragged me under again.

Get it together, Jasper. Focus.

His voice, his presence, his love—those were my anchors. The one truth I clung to: I couldn't lose him. I wouldn't.

Mark is my life, my reason. I won't let him leave.

I repeated it in my mind like a mantra, steadying myself inch by inch. The thought of him anchored me.

The panic ebbed, replaced by a sharp, unyielding determination. My breaths slowed, the haze in my head cleared just enough for a single thought to break through.

I had to find him. Make this right.

My chest still felt tight, but the resolve burning inside me was stronger. He couldn't be far—not yet.

My sister.

Mark had always shared a unique closeness with Rosalie—stronger than anyone else in our circle. Their bond ran deep, a connection built on years of trust and understanding. At this moment, it made sense that he'd turn to her. Rosalie would know where he was.

I grabbed my phone with shaky hands and called her. The line barely rang before her voice cut through, sharp and seething.

"What the hell did you do to him?"

Relief and panic collided in my chest. Mark was with her. That was all I needed to hear. Before she could say anything else, I ended the call.

I snatched my mom's car keys and bolted out the door.

The drive to Rosalie's house felt endless, even though I was sure I'd broken every speed limit along the way. My knuckles were white on the steering wheel, my jaw clenched so tightly it ached. When I finally pulled into her driveway, I didn't even bother turning off the engine.

Rosalie was already at the door, arms crossed, her expression a mix of annoyance and concern.

"What happened?" she asked the second I was close enough.

"I screwed up," I said, my voice breaking. "I need to fix it. Please, Rosie. Where is he?"

She sighed, her gaze softening just a fraction.

"He's out back. With Alec."

I didn't wait for her to say anything else. I was already moving, heart pounding as I headed for the back porch.

The moment I stepped outside, the sight of him almost brought me to my knees.

Mark sat hunched on the sofa, his upper body folded over his legs, elbows braced on his knees, his head cradled in his hands. Beside him, Alec rested a hand on his back, tracing slow, soothing circles.

Mark was crying.

Not the quiet, controlled tears I'd seen him shed maybe once or twice in all the time I'd known him, but unrestrained, open sobbing—the kind I had never seen from him before. It was as if everything he'd been holding together for so long had unraveled all at once.

Alec looked up at me, his expression unreadable, but there was understanding in his eyes. He gave me a small nod before standing and stepping aside, disappearing into the house without a word.

I took his place on the sofa, sitting close but not touching him yet. My heart was pounding in my chest, and I felt like I was holding my breath, afraid of making things worse.

"Sunny," I whispered, my voice breaking.

The sound of my voice made him flinch, and for a moment, I was terrified he was going to pull away. But then he turned, his tear-streaked face lifting toward me.

Before I knew it, he was in my arms, his grip on me desperate and almost crushing. His head pressed against my chest, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could.

"I'm sorry," I choked out, the words tumbling over each other. "I'm so sorry, Sunny. I'm sorry you saw that. I'm sorry I let him kiss me. I swear it wasn't—"

Mark sobbed harder, his fingers clutching the fabric of my shirt, and I felt tears burning my own eyes.

"I love you," I said, my voice firm despite the ache in my throat. "You. You're the love of my life. You've always been. There's never been a shadow of doubt in my heart—not for a second. I just… I was trying not to hurt him more than I had to."

Mark didn't speak, only clung to me tighter, his sobs shaking both of us.

I pulled back just enough to take his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. His blue eyes were red and swollen, but they met mine, and I poured every ounce of truth I had into what I said next.

"If you want to postpone the wedding, that's fine. If you want to move to another city, another country, I don't care. I'll do whatever it takes to show you that you're everything to me. You're the most important thing in my life. I can't lose you, Sunny. I can't breathe without you. I can't live without you."

I slid my hand down to his left wrist, gently tracing my thumb over his moon tattoo before aligning it with mine, our tattoos side by side. My voice dropped to a whisper.

"It's us, Sunny. You and me. Always."

Mark let out a shaky breath, his lips quivering as more tears fell. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine, and for a long moment, we just sat there, holding onto each other like our lives depended on it.

"Don't leave me," I whispered. "Please. Don't leave me."

Mark's lips parted, and he breathed out the words I'd been desperate to hear.

"You and me," he said, his voice soft but sure. "Always."

I nodded, tears slipping down my cheeks as I echoed him.

"Forever."

He laced his fingers through mine, our hands fitting perfectly together like they always had.

The silence that followed wasn't empty—it overflowed with everything we couldn't put into words: understanding, love, and the complicity we'd always shared.

As we sat there, wrapped in each other, I felt it settle in my chest—a certainty as solid as his heartbeat against me: our bond was unbreakable, and this was where I was always meant to be, where I belonged—right here, with Mark.

He was my home.

And he would always be.

.

.

.

The morning came too soon.

Despite the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the previous night, Mark and I found ourselves waking up in Rosalie's guest room, the faint light of dawn creeping through the curtains.

Mark had fallen asleep in my arms, the weight of what he'd gone through still heavy on him. I hadn't realized how tightly I'd held him until I shifted, my arm stiff and sore. He was curled against me, his breathing steady, but his face was still lined with the traces of the pain he'd felt.

We had less than four hours of sleep, but it didn't matter. Not when the wedding day had finally arrived.

I helped him up, and together we made our way back to my mom's house, the quiet of the early morning wrapping around us like a second skin.

We didn't speak much, just the soft shuffle of our feet on the pavement and the occasional shared glance that held a world of unspoken understanding.

There was an undeniable tension in the air—one part fatigue, one part excitement—but it was more than that. It was anticipation.

As soon as we were inside, we made our way to the bathroom together. We were both tired, but in that moment, the world seemed to slow down.

Mark's hand brushed mine as we showered, a shared space of quiet intimacy, washing away the remnants of the chaos. The water was warm, and for a moment, I let myself savor the peaceful rhythm of it, the feeling of him beside me. The space between us felt smaller, the bond between us deeper. No words were needed.

We dressed side by side, moving with practiced ease, as we had done a thousand times before. Mark buttoned his shirt as I slipped on my suit, the fabric smooth against my skin. We were in sync, both of us excited, but also grounded in the moment. Despite the whirlwind of emotions we'd experienced, this—this moment—felt like the culmination of everything.

The wedding itself was everything we had dreamed of. Simple but perfect.

Mark's grandmother, Emmelle, took his arm and led him down the aisle, a proud smile on her face as she watched her grandson. It was a quiet moment between them, and I could see the love and pride in her eyes. It felt right that she was the one to walk him to the altar.

When it was my turn, my mom took my hand, her gaze soft but resolute, as she delivered me to Mark. She kissed both of us on the forehead, a mother's blessing, a silent acknowledgment of everything we'd gone through to get to this moment.

The ceremony unfolded in a blur of joy and tenderness. Bella, as my best woman, handed me Mark's wedding band, and Rosalie, who stood beside Mark, handed him mine. There was something symbolic in the gesture, a reminder of the people who had been there for us from the very beginning, who had supported us in ways words couldn't fully capture.

When the vows came, my heart raced. I had written mine carefully, thought about every word, every feeling I wanted to share with him. I stood there, looking into Mark's eyes, and spoke, my voice steady despite the avalanche of emotions inside me.

"Mark, you entered my life so subtly, like a quiet stream winding its way through me, never demanding, but slowly and steadily gaining space until I realized you were an essential part of it. I've marveled at your patience, but more than that, it's your determination, your loyalty, and your dependability that have anchored me. But what truly won me over, what made you my whole world, was the way your light shines. The way your easy smile can illuminate even my darkest corners, how your icy blue eyes are somehow the warmest I've ever looked into, and how your embrace is the safest place I've ever known."

I took a breath, the words coming from a place so deep it almost hurt.

"Thank you for accepting me—with all my flaws, my baggage, and for believing in me when I couldn't see it in myself. For always pushing me to go after my dreams, no matter how big or small."

My voice softened, and I reached for his hand, squeezing it gently.

"You are my whole heart and soul, the very air that I breathe. There has never been a love so deep, so strong, as the love I have for you."

I paused, taking in the moment, feeling every ounce of emotion, every inch of my being poured into those words.

"I'll love you, always, my Sunny, in ways words can't even touch."

Mark's eyes were glistening with emotion, and for a moment, I thought he might crack, but as always, he managed to keep things light. He smiled softly, then his lips quirked.

"Well," he said, his voice light as he tried to break the tension. A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes. "There has been a love as deep and strong as the one you just described. Mine for you," and he wiggled his brows playfully.

I chuckled, and a ripple of laughter spread through the yard, the intensity of the moment lifted for a second. But then Mark exhaled, and the lightness faded. His gaze turned serious, eyes locked on mine with a depth that made my heart stutter.

He took a slow breath, his voice raw, something uncharacteristically emotional edging its way in.

"Have you ever felt like what tethers you to earth is a force stronger than gravity?" he began, his words hanging in the air. "That's the power of your hold on me—it's more than anything I've ever felt."

I barely managed to catch my breath, a subtle gasp escaping me. I could see the depth of it in his eyes, the truth that had always been there, but now so much clearer.

"Jasper, the very first time I saw you, you weren't even looking my way," Mark continued, his voice unwavering but thick with emotion. "But even from a distance, I could see the light in your eyes, and at that moment, the whole damn planet shifted. It wasn't gravity holding me to the ground anymore. It was you." His eyes softened as he spoke. "And then you turned, and I saw you smile. And I was done for. It was love at first sight. I fell for you right then and there, and I thought I couldn't love you more. But as I got to know you—no, the more I understood you—that love turned into something else. Something I never knew could exist. I could be anything. I could do anything, just for you."

His voice trembled, and I couldn't help the tears that welled up in my eyes. To hear him say these things—Mark, who always kept his emotions so controlled, who measured every word, who never let anyone see him crack—he was cracking right now, in front of all our friends and family, for me.

"The day you told me you were ready for us… the day we count as our anniversary, it was the happiest day of my life." Mark paused, his eyes shining. "Until today. This very moment. Standing here with you."

I felt my breath catch in my throat. The gravity of his words—no, the truth of them—touched me deeply. This man, this incredible, steadfast man, was pouring out his heart for me. And I had never felt more loved.

"And you didn't just give me you," Mark continued, his voice thick with emotion, his chest rising with a heavy exhale. "You gave me a whole family. You gave me back pieces of myself I thought would always be broken, and you put them back together seamlessly. You make me feel seen, valued, cherished. Loved. You're everything to me, Bae. Not just my moon—you're my whole world."

Mark reached out, his hand gently cupping my face, his thumb brushing over my jaw.

"Thank you," he said, his voice cracking. "For loving me. For accepting me. For taking such good care of me." He paused, his eyes holding a depth of raw emotion, the truth clear in every line of his face. "For always prioritizing us. I'll love you always, my Moony. Even beyond life."

I felt my heart swell, a warmth filling me up from the inside out. No words could do justice to what I was feeling right now. And as Mark's gaze never wavered from mine, the world around us seemed to fade away. It was just him. Just us.

I didn't need to say anything—his vows had told me everything I needed to know. He was mine, and I was his, forever.

I was still in a haze of awe when the officiant's voice cut through the silence.

"By the power vested in me by the state of Washington, I now pronounce you life partners," My chest tightened, and my breath hitched. The words we'd chosen, not borrowed from tradition but uniquely ours, landed with profound weight. "You may kiss."

The applause swelled around us, but all I could hear was the steady rhythm of my heartbeat as Mark stepped closer, his eyes holding mine with a look that made the rest of the world blur. Before I could process what he was about to do, his arm slid firmly around my waist, pulling me against him. With a smoothness that startled and thrilled me, he dipped me backward, his grip steady and sure. The air seemed to shift—time slowing as his lips found mine in a kiss that sent sparks coursing through me. My hand instinctively gripped his shoulder, grounding myself in his strength. Somewhere in the background, laughter and cheers erupted, but all I could focus on was the feeling of him, his warmth, his certainty, and the unshakable sense that this moment was ours alone.

The reception carried the same intimacy, spilling into the rest of the yard. The morning light filtered through the canopy of trees that surrounded the house I grew up in, dappling the tables adorned with soft linen and vases of wildflowers. Strings of fairy lights, woven among the branches, added a touch of quiet magic even in the daylight. Guests mingled, their laughter blending with the soft music playing in the background.

Mark and I moved to the rhythm of a slow melody, swaying together under the trees. His hands rested on my waist, mine looped loosely around his neck. Every so often, we'd share a soft kiss, the kind that felt like whispers of promises we'd already made. Eventually, I sighed contentedly, leaning my head against his chest, letting the moment settle around us.

That's when I saw him.

Edward stood off to the side, looking as though he'd just arrived. Hesitant. Out of place.

I took a slow breath in and tilted my head back to look at Mark.

"Sunny," I said carefully, "Edward is here."

Mark's eyes flicked in Edward's direction, and I saw it—the restraint behind his calm expression. He wasn't surprised. We'd invited Edward, after all. Still, there was something simmering beneath the surface.

Rising on my toes, I murmured into his ear, "Don't do that. Just tell me."

He exhaled a long, quiet breath.

"I'm angry… and jealous," he admitted, his tone low. Then, with a soft laugh and a self-deprecating shake of his head, he added, "But I'll behave." His lips brushed my forehead. "I'll go ask my little Sil to dance with me."

With that, he stepped away, leaving me to approach Edward.

Edward noticed me coming, straightening slightly, his smile faint but present. As I neared, the words began tumbling out of him.

"I couldn't make it to the ceremony. I was at the hospital—no, that's not true. I… I just felt awkward after last night, and I thought maybe I shouldn't… but then I thought I should. I wanted to congratulate you. We're friends, and you said you wanted me in your life, so…" He trailed off, his face flushed with awkwardness.

"You're babbling," I said with a chuckle, cutting through his rambling.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking sheepish.

"It's okay." I smiled warmly. "I'm glad you're here."

Edward's gaze flickered over my shoulder, and I turned to follow it, spotting Mark dancing with Rosalie. His hands rested lightly on her waist as they swayed, but his eyes were unmistakably locked on Edward and me. I looked back at Edward, whose expression had turned uncertain again.

"Does he… know?"

I nodded.

"We don't hide things from each other."

Edward hesitated.

"He must hate me so much right now."

I shook my head firmly.

"That's not Mark. Once I explained things, he understood."

Edward's doubtful look didn't waver.

"His glaring says otherwise."

I glanced over again, startled to find Edward was right. Mark's normally calm demeanor was gone, replaced by a hard, steady glare directed at Edward. It was uncharacteristic, and I felt a pang of surprise.

"He doesn't hate you," I said, though my tone had softened, uncertain. "You should talk to him. It'll be okay."

Edward turned his gaze to me, eyebrows raised.

"Are you sure? Because he looks like he's about to punch me."

The thought made me laugh—Mark, of all people, lashing out? Impossible.

"I promise you, that's not happening. Mark's the most peaceful person I know." I clasped Edward's shoulder lightly. "Go talk to him. I'll keep an eye on things, and if he even looks like he's about to jump you, I'll intervene."

Edward offered a tentative smile.

"Promise you'll save me?"

"You won't need saving," I replied. "But I promise."

I watched as Edward approached Mark and Rosie and spoke briefly. After saying something to my sister and planting a quick kiss on her forehead, Mark walked away, with Edward beside him.

Following them with my eyes, I walked toward my sister. Rosalie leaned casually against one of the tables, watching the scene unfold, much like I was. Her eyes sparkled with amusement when I approached.

"Mark's seething," she said with a grin, tilting her head toward where he had stopped with Edward. "Well, internally. You know how he is."

"Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised.

Rosalie raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with my disbelief.

"You should know your man better by now, Jayjay. You've been with him for how long?"

I folded my arms, partly defensive, partly curious.

"I do know him. But this side of him? This is new."

"No, it's not," she said with a knowing smirk. "What's new is that he's allowing himself to show it. Which, honestly, is kind of sweet if you think about it. Not that I'm saying Edward doesn't deserve every ounce of it." She paused, her teasing tone softening. "It's understandable, considering…you know…last night."

A knot tightened in my chest at the memory, but I nodded.

Rosalie touched my arm, her expression suddenly reassuring.

"Don't get nervous. Mark's not going to ruin your wedding just to punch some sense—and maybe some shame—into Edward's face. No matter how deserved it is."

Her words lightened the tension, and I offered her a grateful smile before moving closer to where Mark and Edward stood, a little apart from the party.

From a distance, I watched them. Mark's posture was imposing, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression serious but calm. Edward stood before him, speaking quickly, his words almost tumbling over each other. There was an urgency in his movements, his gestures sharp and nervous, as though trying to explain something, to justify himself.

Mark didn't interrupt. He just listened, his gaze steady, his body language closed but not aggressive. Still, he towered over Edward in a way that made his presence impossible to ignore.

At something Edward said, Mark's head tilted slightly, his brow furrowing. A moment later, he gave a small nod and uncrossed his arms, his stance loosening ever so slightly. His expression softened, though it was still guarded.

Mark began speaking then, his tone measured and calm. Edward nodded along, his shoulders hunched slightly as if in agreement or acknowledgment. Then Mark asked something—I could tell by the slight lift of his head and the pause in the air. Edward hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. Finally, he nodded, his gaze dropping to the ground.

That's when I saw Mark sigh. It was so heavy, even from a distance I could see the rise and fall of his chest. As if sensing my eyes on him, his gaze shifted toward me. The moment our eyes met, his face softened completely.

Mark glanced back at Edward, saying something else, his tone gentler now. Edward responded, his words slower this time, more deliberate. Then Edward extended his hand.

Mark looked at it, his expression unreadable. A couple of seconds passed—long enough for the tension in the air to be palpable—before he reached out and shook Edward's hand. His lips moved, and whatever he said made Edward smile, though it was a small, tentative thing.

Mark gave Edward a solid pat on the shoulder, a gesture that seemed both conciliatory and dismissive. Then they turned together, heading toward me.

As they walked, side by side, neither of them looked up. Their hands were shoved into their pockets, their heads bowed slightly, but it was clear they were speaking. Whatever conversation they were having now seemed quieter, less fraught, the earlier tension slowly unraveling with each step.

I stayed where I was, waiting as they approached, feeling the faint stirrings of hope that maybe—just maybe—the day wouldn't end with any lingering shadows.

As Mark and Edward approached, I stepped forward and extended my hand to Mark. Without hesitation, he took it, his fingers entwining with mine in a gesture that felt both grounding and deeply intimate.

I looked at him, then at Edward.

"Is everything okay?" I asked softly, my voice carrying the weight of my curiosity and a hint of trepidation.

Edward was the first to answer, his voice quiet but sincere.

"Yes," he said with a faint nod.

Mark glanced at him before adding, "We're good." His tone was steady, reassuring.

Edward's gaze shifted between us, and he let out a slow breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice laced with guilt. "For the mess I made."

Before I could respond, Mark shook his head, a small, wry smile playing on his lips.

"No need to apologize anymore, Golden Boy. No more hard feelings."

Edward nodded, his expression softening.

"I really do wish you both happiness," he said, his voice earnest.

He stepped back slightly, looking like he was about to excuse himself, but Mark didn't let him.

"Going where?" he asked, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're staying."

Edward tilted his head, his surprise evident.

"Staying?"

Mark's hand squeezed mine gently before he spoke again.

"All your friends and your family are here," he said, his tone warm now, almost teasing. "It's your best friend's slash boss's wedding."

That earned a chuckle from me, which seemed to embolden Edward to let out a timid laugh of his own.

"You're not going anywhere," Mark continued, nodding toward the gathering behind us. "Go grab a drink or something."

I glanced at Mark, my heart swelling with love for him in that moment. The warmth in his voice, the quiet generosity in his words—it left me awestruck.

Edward smiled a real smile this time, and looked at Mark.

"Okay," he said, his voice lighter now. "Guess I'll say hello to the gang." He glanced at me as he said it, his gratitude unmistakable.

As he turned and walked toward the others, Mark looked at me with a raised brow, a hint of amusement in his expression.

"What?" he asked.

I shook my head, smiling back at him, my chest full of an overwhelming affection for the man standing beside me.

"Nothing," I said softly, leaning into him. "Just… you."

Mark chuckled, pressing a kiss to my temple.

"I'm taking that as a compliment."

"It is," I murmured, knowing in my heart it was so much more than that.