December 2014
Twenty-five / Twenty-seven
Not three hours after Isabella's mother had declared she would make a downpayment to the florist, Rosalie arrived. Isabella had explained everything in a mixture of hiccups and sobs.
"I'm driving up," Rosalie had declared, in her Grand Field Marshall's voice.
"You really don't have to," Bella had muttered exhaustedly into the phone. "It's the middle of the holidays. Don't you have plans?"
"Em is in Tennessee with his family – and Christ, I hate going to Church in the South – and my family in Rochester is dealing with my dipshit brother and his psychotic girlfriend. Hard pass. I was going to try to skip it anyway."
For the first time in days, Bella managed to laugh. "You know my family is going to be just as dysfunctional, right? It's just me, my mother, and her father."
"Your dysfunctional Christmas involves a former US Senator. And, Swan… You sound like shit, baby."
Without further ado, Rosalie had driven up from Georgetown – forsaking a six-hour drive for a three-hour drive instead. In her car, she had packed a small law library.
Esme winced when Bella asked to have Rosalie stay over – "You know I don't like that girl." Later: "Ever since you became friends with that girl, I hardly recognize you," Esme had sniped.
Rosalie's cornflower blue eyes widened with shock at Esme's evident physical decline, but she was otherwise extremely gracious. Rosalie and Esme greeted each other with gleaming, toothy smiles – the kind that could only be achieved by people who deeply disliked one another but could never outwardly express it. "What a surprise, Rose, dear," Esme said graciously, and she waved at Rosalie with all the kindness of a loving mother.
"I'm delighted to have you," Esme lied primly.
Rosalie's smile widened at a welcome she knew to be as hypocritical as a fair-weather friend. "Thank you, Mrs. Masen. That's very kind of you."
The two young women embraced tightly, Rose squatting down to her best friend's eye-level. They held each other long, hard and wordless. Wordlessly, with one hand on Bella's elbow, Rose trailed after Bella.
"I don't want to talk about me," Bella mumbled tiredly, twinning her fingers' through Rose's. "Can we talk about you and Em?"
Rose leaped into Bella's Queen-sized bedroom and kicked off her boots. Now a law student, she had trimmed her long hair into a bob. "There's not a lot to say. We've been fucking like jackrabbits since he started at Johns Hopkins, but it's not like that gives us time for a long-committed relationship. Not like…"
"Not like Edward and I," Bella finished sadly, feeling such a pang of grief that she wrapped her arms around herself.
"Not like you and Charming," Rosalie agreed quietly. She scooted forward and wiped a tear off Bella's cheek.
"Honey, are you sure…?"
"I'm not sure about anything. I just… What hurts the most is… I don't know. I don't know, and that's what's killing me. Not knowing is killing me. If you had asked me six months ago if Edward had ever cheated, I would've been so sure. I think that maybe if he'd told me about the pregnancy right then, right when it happened, I… But now, it's just so convenient that she got pregnant right before, and… How do I know? How do I know there's not a handful of other girls running around with his babies? Rose, when we were in High School…"
"Swan, I remember that relationship. Edward and Jane." Rosalie interjected, cringing. "There's no way in hell Edward fucked her after you made your move."
Bella crumpled like a piece of paper, sighing. The crux for her: "What if it hasn't just been Jane? He didn't tell me anything. What if – there's been more girls, and I only discovered about Jane by accident? He's lied about so much else. At least by omission. I feel like I was so blind."
Rosalie sighed, and folded her legs together. "Oh, sweetie," she said quietly.
Bella broke down at the gentleness in her voice. "I don't know what I'm doing, Rose," she whispered. "I don't know if I made a horrible mistake, but I also feel completely out of my depth for the first time in my life. With Edward."
Rose wrapped her arms around Bella. "You didn't. Not necessarily. Cullen needed a… I don't know, a fucking wake-up call. Right now, we need to get you out of here. You need some space to think."
"I can't—" Bella's voice cracked. "I can't just leave. My mother's already so upset. My mother is pushing me to go through the wedding. We put a downpayment down for the florist, and the photographer, and the venue, and the caterer, and…"
"Swan, the stupidest fucking reason to marry Cullen is the downpayment for the florist."
"Rose," Bella hissed, flustered, caught between deep offense and a laugh. "She'll be so upset, and Rose, she's so sick – I don't want her to stop speaking to me – "
"Let her." Rose's voice was steel. "You're twenty-five years old. It's time to start living your life for yourself, not for your mother or Edward or anyone else."
Isabella blinked at Rose dumbly, like a fish peering through a fish tank – completely dumbstruck by new information.
Rose's voice softened slightly. "Swan, you can do this. You've been living in Edward's shadow for so long, maybe it's time to learn who you are without him."
"I know who I am," Bella protested weakly.
Rose snorted. "Really? Because you default back to… twisting yourself into knots trying to fit into whatever mold you think people expect from you. Like a little robot."
Bella's eyes watered with the indignation that comes from being accused of precisely the right thing. "Rose – "
"You need space to think, to recover, and to stand on your own two feet. Edward knows where to find you if he needs to," Rose said firmly. "And right now, you need to take care of yourself. When's the last time you ate something?"
Bella shrugged helplessly. The thought of food made her stomach turn.
"That's what I thought." Rose started gathering Bella's things, moving with quiet efficiency. "We're going back to Boston. You have that education policy job you love, remember? The think tank?"
"But the apartment—"
"Will still be there. Edward's in Springfield for his internship anyway." Rose's voice gentled. "Swan, you don't have to make any permanent decisions right now. But you need some time to process everything that's happened. Some space to think clearly."
Bella twisted her trembling hands in her lap. "What if... what if he tries to explain? What if I'm overreacting about everything?"
Rose paused in her packing to look at Bella directly. "Then you'll be in a better place to hear those explanations after you've had some time to yourself. You have a job. You have interests. You can handle some time learning to stand on your own two feet while you figure things out."
"I heard every word," Esme said icily, pushing the door open. Her silk turban was askew, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Every single word."
Rosalie didn't flinch. If anything, her spine straightened, and she lifted her chin defiantly.
"Perhaps," Esme continued in clipped tones, "we should discuss this over lunch. Jean-Georges just opened a new location. I made a reservation."
"Mom, I -" Bella began.
"Get dressed, darling," Esme said, her voice brooking no argument. "Wear the navy Burberry dress."
The drive was silent and tense. Bella sat in the back of her mother's town car, while Rose rode in the front. None of the women spoke. At Jean-Georges, they were led to a corner table draped in pristine white linen. Crystal glasses caught the winter light, casting prisms across the tablecloth.
"The sea bass is excellent here," Esme said, scanning the menu without looking up.
"I prefer somewhere with more... substance," Rosalie said pointedly.
Esme's lips thinned. "Of course you do, dear."
Rose's spine straightened, and Bella looked at her pleadingly.
The waiter appeared, looking uncertain. Bella ordered the first thing she saw on the menu, but Esme corrected her almost immediately. "Oh, no, sweet girl. We haven't been here before, but the salmon is nothing to write home about."
Esme turned to the waiter and spoke in glitteringly prim tones. "She'll have the venison loin and the roasted cauliflower tea."
Out of habit, Isabella nodded helplessly at the waiter.
"Swan," Rose said quietly. "If you want the salmon, you should order the salmon."
Esme gave a tittering laugh like glass cracking. "Why would she chose salmon if I'm guiding her towards the best choice?"
Rosalie was quiet, but bursting at the mouth with a retort. Isabella's almost whimpered, and she stared at the waiter pleadingly. "The venison," Esme insisted.
Rosalie gritted her teeth and spread her cloth napkin across her lap.
"You know," Esme said, delicately arranging her napkin, "in my experience, young women often make rash decisions they come to regret."
"In my experience," Rose replied, "women are often pressured into decisions they spend decades regretting."
"How fortunate we all are to benefit from your vast life experience," Esme tittered, and her eyes were hardened amber. Her eyes shone with a murderous rage, but her smile was prim.
The food arrived – elegant portions arranged like artwork on bone china. Bella pushed a piece of fish around her plate while her mother and best friend continued their careful verbal sparring.
"Sometimes protection requires difficult choices," Esme observed.
"Sometimes 'protection' is just another word for control."
"When you've been married as long as I have -" Esme began.
"Been married? Or been divorced?" Rose interrupted, so bluntly that Bella felt for a minute that she understood was it was like to have s troke.
"Rose," Isabella said pleadingly.
Esme's smile just widened. "Precisely because I've had lived through trial and error, I know a good match when I see one. A marriage – a match like theirs - isn't something you discard over one indiscretion," Esme said sweetly.
"An indiscretion?" Rose's laugh was cold. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Young people today, so quick to throw away something precious -"
"Like trust?" Rose cut in. "Like honesty?"
The waiter returned with their wines. Esme took a deliberate sip before continuing. "Edward has always been devoted. He would give her everything. He made one mistake -"
"That we know of," Rose said, cutting into her steak with precise, angry movements.
"You're encouraging her to destroy something beautiful."
"I'm encouraging her to think for herself for once in her life."
"What if her own thinking leads to the wrong conclusion?" Esme said, with such an abrupt burst of anger that she dropped her knife. "Away from man who adores her? Security? Family?"
The tension in the table had risen like a living thing, keeping the waiter away though the food had long since been eaten – except for Isabella's venison, much of which had been left untouched.
"Mom," Bella said quietly. Her hands were trembling, but her voice was steady. "I think Rose and I should head to Boston. Rose'll help me get settled, and I can have some time to think."
Esme set down her fork with a delicate clink. "Sweet girl," she began, her voice honeyed but brittle, "you're not thinking clearly. The stress, the shock... you're making decisions from a place of trauma."
"Mom -"
"And of course," Esme continued, casting a pointed look at Rose, "some people are taking advantage of your vulnerable state."
Rose's knuckles went white around her knife. "The only person taking advantage -"
"I've been so patient," Esme interrupted her sharply, and her eyes flashed so dangerously that even bullishly outspoken Rose was quiet. "So understanding. Used whatever energy and health I have left, so I can die in peace knowing you had the wedding I never had, married to a great man."
Rosalie rolled her eyes, and Bella – still devoted to her mother – glowered furiously.
"Even though the chemo makes everything so difficult, I've put down deposits, made arrangements.
Bella's stomach clenched. "I know, Mom, I –a"
"Do you?" Esme pressed a hand to her chest. "Do you know what it's like to watch your only daughter throw away everything you've worked for? After all I've sacrificed? After everything I've done?"
"Mrs. Masen," Rose started, her voice sharp.
"And now you want to run away to Boston?" Esme's voice cracked perfectly. "Leave me here, sick and alone, while you... what? Hide in your apartment like a child? Throw away months of conscientious planning –"
Bella felt the color drain from her face. Under the table, she could feel Rose's hand squeezing her knee in silent support.
"Mom, please," Bella whispered. "I'm so thankful for everything you've done. I'm not trying to hurt you. I just... I need time. To think. To process everything."
"Process what?" Esme's voice was sharp. "That Edward made one youthful mistake? That he's human?"
"It's more than that." Bella's voice cracked. "It's the secrets, and the lies, and... I don't know who I am anymore. In all of this."
"You're my daughter," Esme said firmly. "Edward's fiancée."
"But what else?" Bella's eyes burned with tears. "What am I besides that?"
Esme pressed her lips together. "Everybody is defined by their relationships Nobody is an island onto herself." she said, casting a cold, murderously hateful glance at Rose. Rose cowered in her seat.
Rose remained silent, but her spine straightened.
Bella finally spoke. "I'm asking for space to think. I'll be back – I'll try to be back every week."
A heavy silence fell over the table. Esme's fingers drummed against her untouched wineglass. When she finally spoke, her voice was arctic.
"You've always been very ungrateful," she said precisely, each word falling like ice. "If you're going to talk to a therapist, you should discuss that first. How you treat your dying mother like garbage."
Bella flinched as if she'd been struck. The remnants of her venison blurred through her tears.
"Check, please," Esme called out, her voice carrying across the restaurant with practiced authority. She didn't look at either of them as she retrieved her credit card from her Hermès wallet. "I assume you'll want to leave tomorrow morning?"
"We'll leave after lunch, Mrs. Masen," Rose said quietly, her voice steady despite her evident tension.
"I see," Esme said tartly.
Esme's eyes flashed dangerously as she signed the credit card slip. She spoke to Rosalie as though Isabella was not in the room. "You're meddling with something far beyond your understanding." Her voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "My daughter has always been very fragile, very... delicate. She needs things you can't even begin to imagine. Structure. Support. Protection."
Rose's face remained carefully neutral, though she was obviously furious.
"You think you're helping?" Esme continued, her voice silky. "You think you understand what she needs? What it takes to care for someone in her condition? The doctors, the medications, the physiotherapy?" She shook her head with theatrical concern. "You have no idea what you're doing, encouraging her to be... independent."
She spat out the last word like it was poison.
Bella's hands were trembling so violently that her water glass rattled against the saucer. "Mom, please -"
"Isabella can barely manage some tasks on bad day," Esme continued mercilessly. "She needs constant help. Constant care. Edward understands that. He's been trained for it, prepared for it. But you?" Her laugh was cold. "You're going to help her navigate life in Boston? Handle her medical needs?"
"And you, darling," Esme said, her voice gentling to that special, sweet tone she reserved for when she was being particularly cruel. "You know I'm right. You know how difficult things are for you. How many times have you fallen this week alone?"
Bella's throat felt tight. Under the table, her right leg began to spasm.
"What is going to happen now, if you fall in the shower?" Esme's eyes were wide with manufactured concern. "What happens when your leg seizes up? When you can't manage your orthoses by yourself? When you need financial help with your medications?"
"I can manage -" Bella started.
"Can you?" Esme's voice dripped with doubt.
Bella's cheeks burned. She stared at her plate, fighting tears.
"Edward knows how to take care of you. He has always known. He understands your limitations." Esme reached across the table to pat Bella's trembling hand. "Sometimes, sweetheart, we have to accept that we need help. That there are things you just can't do."
Bella's mouth went dry. She could feel tears burning behind her eyes, that familiar mix of shame and anger rising in her throat. Next to her, Rose had gone completely still.
"And really, darling," Esme continued, gathering her Hermès bag, "what kind of life do you think you'll have? Living alone, struggling with basic tasks... all because you're upset about something that happened years ago?" She adjusted her silk turban with practiced grace. "Edward loves you despite everything. Despite all your... limitations. You should think very carefully about throwing that away."
She stood, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt and putting on her own coat. Even during cancer treatment, she looked effortlessly elegant to the point of looking regal. "You girls can make your way back to my apartment alone, I'm sure."
With that parting shot, she swept out of the restaurant, leaving behind nothing but the scent of her Chanel perfume and the wreckage of her words.
The town car had barely disappeared around the corner before Bella crumpled, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Rose immediately moved closer, wrapping an arm around her.
"She's wrong," Rose said fiercely. "About all of it. You know that, right?"
Bella wiped at her eyes with trembling fingers.
"But what if she's not? What if I can't -"
"You can and you will." Rose helped her slip out of the booth and walk towards the curb. "You have a job you love. You're not giving that up."
The ride back to Esme's apartment was tense, Bella's anxiety mounting with each block. By the time they reached the building, her words were tumbling out in a panic.
"Edward and I shared the apartment, but the apartment is technically his, and so I -"
"He's doing his residency in Springfield," Rose cut in, already pulling suitcases from the closet. "And, Swan, your evil mother is right about one thing. Cullen does love you. He's not going to leave you homeless. I'm almost sure."
"Almost?" Bella's voice cracked.
"Look, worst case scenario, you stay with me until you figure something out. But Edward's not vindictive. He's just..." Rose paused in her efficient packing. "He's a product of his upbringing. Like you were. Until you weren't."
Bella watched as Rose systematically emptied her drawers into the suitcases. "What if she's right about me needing help? About not being able to manage?"
"You managed just fine in college," Rose said firmly, folding a sweater. "You had systems in place. Support when you needed it. This isn't different."
"But what about my medical appointments? My prescriptions?"
"We'll figure it out." Rose zipped up the first suitcase. "One step at a time, Swan. Right now, let's just get you out of here."
Looking at her best friend—fierce, determined Rose who had survived her own battles and come out stronger—Bella felt something shift inside her. Maybe it was courage. Maybe it was just exhaustion. But suddenly the idea of going back to Boston, of facing her life head-on, didn't seem quite so impossible.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Rose paused mid-fold. "Okay?"
"Okay. Let's go back to Boston." Bella took a shaky breath. "But can we stop for coffee first? I haven't had any caffeine all day and I'm getting a headache."
Rose's face split into a grin. "That's my girl."
XXXXX
They were somewhere on I-95, coffee cups long empty in the cupholders, when Bella finally spoke. "He was so different with me," she said quietly. "When we were alone, I mean. He was... Sweet. Gentle. Romantic. He'd read to me at night when I couldn't sleep."
Rose glanced over, keeping her voice carefully neutral, but her face softened and her face twisted into the pout of those overwhelmed by cuteness. "I know."
"But then I'd see him at these parties, anywhere outside our little bubble, and it was like... like watching someone put on a mask." Bella twisted her hands in her lap. "He'd get so cold. So calculating. Like a completely different person."
"People can be both things, Swan." Rose's voice was gentle. "He can be the boy who loves you and still be the man who makes choices you don't agree with."
"But that's just it," Bella said, frustration bleeding into her voice. "He kept saying they were just business decisions. Like that made them separate somehow. Like investing in surveillance technology or donating to corrupt politicians didn't matter as long as he came home to me at night."
Rose was quiet for a moment, merging onto the highway. "I think he loves you more than anything in the world."
"Wow, you've changed your tune."
"Because your mother's reasoning is deranged. I always thought it was so fucking romantic, how much he loves you. But maybe... maybe he thought he could keep these parts of his life separate. The Edward who loves you, and the Edward is a fucking Kenne – I mean, Cullen."
"He didn't trust me enough to tell me about Jane," Bella whispered. The words still felt like glass in her throat. "How is that love?"
"No, he didn't. And that was wrong." Rose's voice hardened slightly. "But I don't think it was about trust exactly. I think he was terrified of losing you."
"So terrified he lied to me for years?"
"You know what Emmett told me once?" Rose asked after a pause. "He said Edward was always different with you. Like you were this... pure, angelic thing he was always protecting. Which is kind of fucked up when you think about it."
"I'm not pure," Bella said, frustrated. "I'm not some... some angel he has to protect. I'm a person. I wanted to be his partner."
"I know." Rose's voice softened. "And maybe that's part of the problem. He put you on this pedestal—"
"While he made deals with people like Aro Voltaire," Bella finished bitterly.
"While he convinced himself he was doing what needed to be done," Rose corrected. "For his career, for your future. That's the thing about pedestals, Swan. They don't just trap the person on them. They trap the person who built them too."
Welcome to Connecticut. The December afternoon cast a long, skeletal shadow across the highway. The air, though still, was bone-chilling. Icicles clung to the guardrails, and the occasional patch of black ice gleamed ominously through the thinning light. Inside the car, the heater of Rose's Honda Civic, a relic from their college days, battled valiantly.
"Sometimes I think I'm overreacting," Bella whispered. "That maybe my mother is right and I'm throwing away something precious because I'm too idealistic. But then I think about him casually mentioning giving a quarter million dollars to Aro Voltaire like it was nothing. About him investing in companies that spy on people. About him not telling me about Jane..." Her voice cracked. "And I feel like I don't know him at all."
"Or maybe you know him too well," Rose suggested quietly. "Maybe you see parts of him he's not ready to face himself."
"What do you mean, parts he's not ready to face?" Bella asked, turning to look at Rose more directly.
"He could be himself with you." Rose's voice was pointed. "With you, he was... different. Like you were this safe harbor where he could just be broken for a while. And maybe he's not ready to be broken and vulnerable beyond that. He compartmentalizes. Perfect Edward with you, ruthless Edward in business, charming Edward in public—like if he keeps all the parts of himself separate, nothing can touch the part of him that's yours."
Bella felt tears well up again. "He doesn't need to protect me like that from himself. I could have handled the truth about Jane. About all of it."
"Could you have? Back then?" Rose's voice was careful. "You were so insecure, baby. And he'd already lost you once, during those years you weren't speaking."
"That was different," Bella protested weakly.
"Was it?"
"We were…Gosh, he was nineteen, and I was seventeen. We went into a restaurant together one day. We used to do that a lot when we were kids. We bumped into a classmate of his from Harvard, and it was horrible."
Saying it now, after all these years, still made a tear slip down her cheek. "The guy made fun of me, asked him if he was volunteering for the Telethon. Edward said I was nobody. I forgave him because it was this asshole that used to bully him."
Rose grew agitated, the way she would when she was on the verge of shouting out the right answer in class. "That makes so much fucking sense," she marveled. "The logic is so fucking clean –"
"It's not an LSAT question," Bella snapped sharply.
"But it makes so much sense. If he's powerful enough, if he's rich enough, if he's enough, no one can hurt either of you. But because you're his safe space, you don't actually see all the things he's doing to cocoon that safe space."
"But that doesn't justify any of the other shit," Bella said, frustration bleeding into her voice. "He's the one making these choices—lying to me, working with corrupt politicians, investing in companies that hurt people..."
"I'm not defending him," Rose said quickly. "What he did was wrong. But I think... I think maybe he convinced himself it was necessary. To protect you, and to protect himself."
"The Cullens already have so much. I just don't see why he would go out and search for more." Bella asked, but her voice had lost its edge, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.
. To build a life where you wouldn't have to worry about medical bills or accessibility issues. Where you could focus on your work without constantly fighting the system. And Edward... well, maybe in his mind, playing the game was the price of giving you that life."
"I never wanted to be the the reason he did any of that bullshit."
They drove in silence for a while, windshield wipers keeping time with Bella's thoughts.
"He used to play piano for me," she said finally, her voice small. "Did I ever tell you that? He hadn't played since his mom died, but sometimes, when it was just us... He said I made him want to make music again."
"Because you made him feel safe," Rose said softly. "The problem is, you can't be someone's safety net forever. Eventually, they have to learn to catch themselves."
"What if he doesn't want to?" Bella asked, and they both knew she wasn't just talking about the piano anymore.
"Then that's his choice to make," Rose said. "Just like this is yours."
"I need to stop," Rose announced, checking her mirrors to merge right. "I'm tired of driving in the sludge, we both need actual food, not just coffee."
Bella nodded, realizing suddenly how stiff she felt. Her muscles were tight from anxiety and hours of sitting. "Yeah, okay."
They pulled into a rest stop somewhere in Connecticut. Rose helped Bella transfer from the car to her wheelchair with practiced ease—they'd done this dance countless times before. Still, Bella felt a pang as she remembered how Edward would always help – quietly, efficiently, mindful of her dignity.
"I've got you," Rose murmured, steadying the chair as Bella settled in. "Need a minute?"
Bella nodded, waiting for her tremors to subside. When she felt steady enough, they made their way inside.
"He called me his safe place dozens of times, in a million different ways," Bella said after they'd found a quiet corner table with their sandwiches. Her hands shook as she tried to unwrap hers, and Rose wordlessly took over the task.
"But that's just it, isn't it?" Rose said gently. "He wasn't being completely himself. He was being the version of himself he thought you needed."
"While pushing an abortion on someone that didn't want it, while giving a quarter million to the shadiest major NYC has ever had," Bella said numbly…
"Without the parts of himself he was ashamed of," Rose agreed. "Which, honestly, might be worse. Because it means he never gave you the chance to love all of him. The good and the bad."
Bella picked at her sandwich. "Sometimes I think... maybe if I'd been different. Less idealistic. More understanding of the world he comes from—"
Rose was quiet for a moment, methodically breaking her cookie into pieces. "Can I tell you something Emmett said to me? About Edward?"
Bella nodded.
"He said Edward's biggest problem isn't that he makes questionable choices. It's that he refuses to admit they're questionable. He wraps everything in this veneer of necessity—it's just business, it's just politics, it's what needs to be done. Like if he doesn't acknowledge the moral implications, they don't exist."
"That sounds like his grandmother," Bella said with a wan smile.
"Exactly. And that's what scares you, isn't it? Not just the choices he's making, but the way he's justifying them?"
Bella felt tears prick at her eyes again. "I keep thinking about what he said when I confronted him about the Corvus investment. He said I was being naive, that the world isn't a fairytale or a novel. Like my values childish."
"And there it is," Rose said softly. "The real problem isn't just that he lied. It's that he doesn't respect your worldview. He sees the world as something to protect you from, rather than something to engage with."
"I could have handled the truth," Bella insisted, but her voice wavered. "At least about the financial shit, the social shit. If only he'd talked to me."
"Maybe. But that would have meant admitting these weren't just business decisions. That they had real moral weight, real consequences." Rose reached across the table to squeeze her hand. "And maybe he wasn't ready to face that. Maybe he still isn't."
Rose noticed Bella's hands trembling worse than usual as she tried to lift her drink. Without comment, she steadied the cup while Bella took a sip.
"I keep thinking about the practical things," Bella admitted quietly. "The daily stuff. Edward always... he knew exactly how to help without making me feel helpless. When to step in, when to step back."
"You managed without Edward," Rose pointed out gently.
"Did I though?" Bella's voice cracked. "It was either my mother or the college supporting me. And then Edward... he just made everything so easy. He'd help me stretch when my muscles were tight. He knew exactly how to steady me without being intrusive. Even little things, like opening jars or reaching high shelves—he just did it, without making a big deal of it."
"And you think no one else can learn those things?"
"It's not just about learning," Bella whispered. "He understood without me having to explain. He knew when my tremors were worse because I was tired, or when I needed help but was too proud to ask. It was like... like he could read my body's signals better than I could sometimes."
"It was insane watching you. The chemistry, the connection. I think that understanding went both ways. You knew him just as well. His moods, his needs. Maybe that's part of why this hurts so much—because you thought you knew everything about him, and now..."
"Now I don't know what I don't know," Bella finished. Her voice wavered. "What if I can't do this, Rose? What if I'm not strong enough to be on my own?"
"First of all, you're not on your own. You have me, you have people who love you." Rose's voice was firm. "Second, you're stronger than you think. You moved into the freshman dorms, and you were so fucking cute, learning…"
"That was different—"
"Was it? Because I remember you figuring it out. Learning to advocate for yourself with disability services, finding workarounds for things that were hard." Rose's eyes softened. "You're not helpless, Swan. You never have been."
"Edward always said he just wanted to take care of me," Bella whispered.
"I know he did. But sometimes taking care of someone means letting them fall. Letting them figure things out for themselves." Rose paused. "When's the last time you made a big decision without consulting Edward first?"
Bella opened her mouth, then closed it. She couldn't remember.
"That's what I thought," Rose said gently. "And I'm not saying that's all on him. Relationships are about compromise, about leaning on each other. But somewhere along the way, maybe you both got too comfortable with him being the strong one. The protector."
"He made me feel safe," Bella admitted, tears slipping down her cheeks. "Like nothing could hurt me as long as he was there."
"I know, sweetie."
They were parked outside Bella's Boston apartment building, the engine idling, neither quite ready to end their journey. Rain pattered against the windshield, creating a cocoon of privacy around them.
"Am I being too harsh?" Bella asked suddenly, her voice small. "I think the abortion was fucked up if Jane didn't want to have it, but..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Rose's hands tightened on the steering wheel. She turned off the engine, choosing her words with careful deliberation.
"That's... complicated," she finally said. "And I say this as someone who fundamentally believes in a woman's right to choose."
"Me too, but—"
"But choice is the operative word here," Rose continued. "From what you've told me about Victoria's revelation, it sounds like Edward was... insistent. Pressuring. And that's a different moral territory entirely."
Bella twisted her trembling hands in her lap. "But maybe he was just scared. He was so young..."
"They both were," Rose acknowledged. "And that's part of what makes this so ethically murky. Because yes, he was young and terrified. But so was Jane. And if what Victoria said is true—that Jane didn't want it..." She shook her head. "Pushing someone into an abortion they don't want is just as wrong as denying someone an abortion they do want."
"But we don't know for sure," Bella said quietly. "Victoria could have been lying. Or twisting things."
"True. But what we do know is that Edward never told you about it. Never gave you the chance to form your own moral judgment about what happened." Rose turned to look at her directly. "And that's significant too, isn't it?"
Bella felt tears prick at her eyes. "He said he was protecting me."
"From what, though? From knowing he's capable of making morally questionable choices? From seeing him as anything less than perfect?" Rose's voice gentled. "You're allowed to be angry about this, Swan. Not just about the lie, but about what it represents."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean..." Rose paused, gathering her thoughts. "Look, I'm trying to be fair here. Edward was young, scared, probably not equipped to handle that situation well. But instead of learning from it, growing from it, he buried it. Treated it like just another inconvenient truth to hide from you. And that pattern—of making choices he knows you'd struggle with morally, then hiding them to 'protect' you—that's what's really at issue here."
"But everyone has things they're not proud of," Bella whispered. "Things they wish they'd done differently."
"Of course. But there's a difference between being ashamed of past actions and refusing to acknowledge their moral weight." Rose reached over to squeeze her hand. "The problem isn't just what he did back then. It's his inability or unwillingness to engage with the ethical implications now. To see why this might matter to you beyond just being an uncomfortable truth from his past."
They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the rain.
"I don't know what's worse," Bella finally said. "Thinking he pressured Jane into something she didn't want, or knowing he could hide something that significant from me for so long. Keep making choices he knew I'd object to, all while..." Her voice cracked. "All while saying he loved me."
"Maybe that's exactly it," Rose said softly. "Maybe you're not just questioning his past actions. You're questioning whether someone who could compartmentalize like that, who could repeatedly choose to hide parts of himself rather than risk your disapproval, was ever really being honest—with you or himself."
"I agree with everything you just said, but sometimes..." Bella tugged on her sweater sleeves, lifting one knee to tuck it to her chest. "What if he didn't want to be a Dad? With Jane? Isn't it just as fucked up to force him to be a Dad?"
Rose let out a long breath, fog forming on the windshield from their conversation. "That's... actually a really good point. And you're right—reproductive rights aren't just about women. Men should have some say in whether they become parents."
"But?" Bella prompted, hearing the hesitation in her friend's voice.
"But there's a difference between not wanting to be a parent and pressuring someone into a medical procedure they don't want." Rose drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. "Like... he had options. He could have made it clear he wouldn't be involved. Could have signed away his parental rights. Those aren't great options, but they're different from potentially coercing someone into an abortion."
"We don't know for sure that he coerced her," Bella said quietly.
"No, we don't. But think about the power dynamics there. He was older, came from money, had all these family connections. If he made it clear that was his only acceptable solution..." Rose trailed off. "That's its own kind of pressure, even if he never explicitly forced anything."
Bella was quiet for a moment, processing. "I keep thinking about what you said earlier—about him compartmentalizing. Like maybe in his mind, it wasn't coercion. It was just... solving a problem. The most logical solution."
They sat in silence for a moment, watching rain streak down the windshield.
"You want to know what I think?" Rose finally asked.
Bella nodded.
"I think both things can be true. He had a right not to want to be a father. And if he'd been upfront about that, made his position clear but left the final choice to Jane—that would be one thing. But from what little we know, it sounds like he approached it the way he approaches everything: identify the problem, implement the solution, bury any messy feelings or ethical questions that might complicate things."
"And then hide it all from me," Bella added softly.
"Because you're the one person he can't compartmentalize away," Rose said sagely.
"You're not spending Christmas night alone," Rose declared as they reached the apartment. "We'll order Chinese food. Have a sleepover like we did in college."
Bella felt tears prick at her eyes at the memory. How many nights had they spent like that, sharing lo mein and secrets in their dorm room? "The sheets," she managed to say. "My tremors are really bad."
"I've got it." Rose's voice was gentle. "You direct, I'll do the heavy lifting."
Together they stripped the bed. Bella tried not to notice how her hands shook as she pointed out which sheets she wanted—the soft flannel ones she saved for bad days. She tried harder not to notice how the old sheets still smelled like Edward's cologne.
"General Tso's?" Rose asked once the bed was made, already pulling up the number for their favorite takeout place. Her eyes flickered to Bella's protruding collarbones, visible even under her sweater. "Extra rice?"
"I'm not really—"
"Swan," Rose cut in gently. "When's the last time you ate something real?"
Bella twisted her trembling hands in her lap. "I had some toast this morning."
"Right. We're getting the General Tso's. And those sugar donuts you love—the ones that are basically just diabetes in round form." Rose's voice was firm but kind. "And you're going to try to eat some of it. Even if it's just a few bites."
They settled on the freshly made bed with their feast spread before them. Rose had found Bella's old sweatshirt in the closet and pulled it on, looking exactly like she had during their college days. The sweatshirt that used to be snug on Bella now hung loose around her frame.
"Remember that time in sophomore year," Rose said, strategically placing a container of rice near Bella, "when we ordered so much food the delivery guy thought we were having a party?"
"And you told him we were carb-loading for finals," Bella finished, managing a small smile. "Even though it was October."
"Hey, you never know when you might need emergency carbs."
"This isn't how I thought I'd be spending Christmas. But this is pretty cute."
"I know, sweetie." Rose's voice softened. She poured them ea a glass of wine, then nudged the rice closer. "It's exactly what you need right now. Just... existing. No pressure." She paused. "Well, maybe a little pressure to eat something."
"Rose—"
"Just try?" Rose's eyes were worried. "You're shaking worse than usual. Your body needs fuel."
Bella took a small bite of rice, then another. Each mouthful felt like a victory and a defeat all at once. "Stay?" she whispered, hating how small her voice sounded.
"Already planned on it." Rose reached over to squeeze her hand.