Chapter Three
Bella – Flashback
She sat beside me on the porch, practically vibrating with anticipation. Her entire body tensed every time a car passed, eyes locked on the street like it held answers.
"Are you sure it's today?" I asked, after the hundredth disappointment.
"I'm sure," she said, without even glancing at me.
Her knee bounced like it had a mind of its own. It was driving me crazy.
I could've gone inside. I almost did. But she said this mattered. So I stayed, letting the heat of the sun sting my cheeks while she waited for something—someone—I didn't understand.
Late afternoon, a car finally pulled into the neighbor's driveway.
She leaned forward like she might bolt across the lawn. I grabbed her arm, yanking her back down beside me.
"Act normal," I hissed, glaring.
She nodded, biting down on her grin, chewing at her lip to keep from smiling too wide.
We sat there like we were just two girls enjoying the sun. Not stalking the arrival of a total stranger.
The back door opened and a boy jumped out. Messy blond hair. Freckles. Big green eyes. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stretched like he owned the entire neighborhood.
Anna sighed beside me, dreamily.
I rolled my eyes.
He was cute, sure. But this was the boy next door? Her boy next door? She was magnetic and wild and completely unexplainable—and she wanted this?
I studied him for flaws. For reasons he wouldn't belong.
"Perfect," she whispered to herself.
They became inseparable within weeks. I didn't even mind. Max was sweet, and weird in a way that didn't clash with ours. He felt like a brother I never had. They just fit. She eased him into all the strange parts of our lives with the same casual charm she used on everyone.
I envied it.
She was warm. Effortless.
I looked exactly like her and somehow couldn't be more opposite.
Edward – Present Day
We talked about books. About weather. About movies we only half-remembered. Everything except the things that mattered.
She was steering us away from the real stuff, and I let her.
She didn't want to talk about Anna. Or what I was. Or what was happening to her. And I didn't push.
I could handle the pretending. The silence. The way we both tiptoed around the truth like it might shatter if we looked at it too hard. But what I struggled with—what I hated—was lying.
Anna had told me to hold things back. Said Bella wasn't ready. I could see now she was right. But it didn't make it easier. It didn't make me feel any less like a coward.
I watched her as she talked, her voice soft and a little shaky, eyes flickering toward the boxes piled in the corners of her room.
She was burning up again. The heat rolled off her in waves. Her hands trembled slightly, and her breathing had that subtle hitch I was learning to recognize.
She was used to it. That was the worst part. She lived with this. Every second of her life was survival.
She was explaining the plot of her favorite book when she suddenly trailed off.
"I don't know where I put it. I know I packed it," she said, glancing around.
"I can help you look," I offered.
She froze.
A beat too long.
"No, it's stupid anyway," she said quickly, forcing a smile and rubbing her arm like the motion could make the moment disappear.
"I doubt that," I replied. Bella didn't seem like the kind of person who wasted time on things that didn't matter.
She blushed at that. Just slightly. And I found myself chasing the thought of what I'd have to say to make her really smile. Not the polite, practiced one. The real one.
"Do you maybe… want to watch a movie or something?" she asked, motioning toward the TV. "Unless you have to go."
"I'd like that."
She shifted, making space beside her. Then waited.
I hesitated—for the briefest second.
Not because I didn't want to. But because something about moving closer to her felt like crossing a threshold. Like once I did, I wouldn't be able to go back.
Not that I wanted to.
I sat beside her. Close. Not close enough.
Bella – Flashback
She hadn't moved in twenty minutes.
I looked over, already knowing what I'd find. Her eyes locked on Max, frozen halfway through a sentence. He was out on the waves, waiting for the next set to roll in.
It happened all the time. These pauses. She'd freeze, stare through people. Sometimes seconds, sometimes minutes.
Eventually, she snapped out of it.
"Ugh," she groaned, turning toward me with a disgusted expression.
"What?"
"Oh, Isabella," she said dramatically.
"Oh, Annabelle," I replied, mocking her tone.
One hour later I was contemplating drowning myself in the ocean just to escape the awkwardness.
Max and Anna sat on either side of me, equally annoyed, equally determined to force this ridiculous lesson.
"This is stupid," I growled, crossing my arms.
"It's called small talk. It's not stupid," Anna shot back.
"Yes it is. Why do I need this?"
"Because silence is weird," Max said. "You can't get to know someone without talking."
They'd been trying to teach me how to interact—how to flirt, how to hold a conversation with someone who wasn't blood-related. I hated all of it.
"Here, try on me," Max offered, turning to face me.
"Great idea," Anna said, practically vibrating.
"This is so weird," I said, recoiling.
"Stop being a brat," Max laughed.
He extended his hand. "Hi. I'm Edward. That's the guy's name, right?"
He looked at Anna. She nodded without breaking eye contact with me.
His hand remained outstretched.
I stared at it like it might bite me.
"There's something very wrong with the two of you," I muttered.
Edward – Present Day
She talked until her voice got softer, until her eyes started to slip shut between sentences. Her head dropped against the headboard beside me. I didn't say a word.
She jolted awake, panic flashing through her.
"Are you staying?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
But the fear was all over her face. The kind that doesn't come from doubt. The kind that comes from being left.
"Of course, Bella. You can sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
She relaxed. Her body melted into the mattress.
And then into me.
Her heat pressed against my side, and I didn't move. Didn't flinch. I let her climb into my chest like she belonged there.
Because she did.
Her fingers curled into my shirt, and the bursts of light began behind her eyes—the same pattern that always came when she slept. Bright and incomprehensible. Painful, maybe. But she never woke from them.
Her body jerked sometimes. Her hands curled into fists. But she never cried out.
I wondered if she'd simply adapted. Learned to suffer in silence. And that thought broke something in me.
At 7 a.m., she stirred.
Her head was still on my chest when her eyes blinked open. She looked up at me, startled. But not uncomfortable.
Then she smiled.
The first real one.
"You're cold," she whispered, her fingers tracing my collarbone.
I froze.
"It's nice," she added, her expression soft, comforted by the very thing that should've scared her.
She stood and moved to one of her suitcases, digging for a pill bottle. I watched her, knowing I couldn't wait any longer.
"Bella," I said carefully, "you know what I am. Right?"
She paused, looked over her shoulder.
Her brow furrowed slightly, but her voice was steady. "Of course."
She didn't say the word. But she didn't need to.
"I'm gonna make breakfast," she said, swallowing a pill and downing it with the water beside me. "I'd offer you some, but I'm the only living thing here."
"Good one," I said, still recovering from her reaction.
"Thank you. I'll be here all week," she smirked as she walked out.
She hummed while she cooked. Quiet. Familiar.
I sat across from her, watching as she picked at her food, dragging her fork across the plate like she didn't really want it.
"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" she asked, too casual again. Like last night.
"No. I'm not going to leave unless you ask me to."
She exhaled, shoulders visibly relaxing.
Her lips curved.
"What should we do then?" she asked.
"Whatever you want."
One Month Later
There were moments.
Moments that felt so ordinary to anyone else—but to me, they were seismic. Her laugh. Her head on my shoulder. Her hand in mine.
The first time she kissed me.
The first time she pulled me into bed just to sleep, just to be near.
They undid me.
And then there were the other days.
The days that gutted me.
Like today.
She lay across the couch, legs draped over my lap, my hand on her ankle. Everything quiet. Calm.
She held a tourism brochure.
"Have you been here?" she asked, pointing to Port Angeles.
"Plenty of times," I said. "It's not bad."
"We should go. Forks doesn't exactly have a shopping district."
I lit up. Not because of shopping, but because she hadn't left the house in weeks. She was starting to consider the world again.
"That sounds good. There's a bookstore I think you'd love."
She smiled. "That's what I was going to say. I also need to—"
And then it hit.
Her smile dropped.
Her chest rose too fast. Her fingers clutched at her shirt, clawing like she couldn't breathe.
"Bella," I whispered, already moving, already gathering her into my arms.
Her eyes were wide, terrified.
Her lips parted to speak—but only a sound came out. A noise. Not words.
And then the screaming started.
I carried her upstairs. First the bedroom—grabbed the meds. Painkillers. Useless, but routine.
She swallowed them with shaking hands, sobs choking every breath.
Then the fever hit.
I moved fast—into the bathroom, the shower, cold water running full blast. I held her as she cried into my chest, her hands fisting my shirt until the fabric tore.
Then came the worst part. Stage two.
She couldn't hear me anymore.
She was gone.
She scratched at herself—arms, chest, neck—trying to dig out something invisible. I wrapped myself around her, letting her scratch me instead.
Hours passed.
She screamed herself hoarse, then fell silent.
Her body finally gave in.
Stage three.
She went limp in my arms.
I carried her to bed. She curled into herself, blanket fisted in her hand, breath shallow and rattling.
"Please don't leave me," she whispered.
I lay down beside her, pressing my forehead to hers.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I don't want to lose you."
"You won't. I'm right here."
Her body was too sore for touch, so I moved gently—fingers in her hair, brushing her cheek, grounding her any way I could.
This had never been Anna's reason for dying. It wasn't Bella's fault. It was a darkness we would fix.
She cried softly as she fell asleep. And I stayed.
I always stayed.
I hummed her favorite melody, hoping she'd hear it even now.
The lights came again. Those same incomprehensible flashes behind her eyes.
And then the silence.
The clock ticked mercilessly. Hours stolen. Time she'd never get back.
I kissed her temple and wiped the sweat from her brow just as Carlisle quietly entered the house.
But I didn't move.
I wouldn't leave her side until I had no other choice.