Chapter 5 – Edward's POV
It felt like a dream.
One of those rare moments I'd never expected to have—calm, wordless, effortless. A quiet I could feel in my chest. Not empty, not aching… just still. I didn't know at the time that I'd relive it in my mind, again and again. That I'd come back to this moment when the rest of the world began to fall apart.
She was beside me, hand drifting lazily out the window, fingers catching the wind like it was something sacred. The drive was silent, but not cold. There were no racing thoughts, no tightening in my chest. Just her. Just the sun slipping down behind the trees, and her quiet presence softening everything it touched.
I wanted to keep driving. Past every exit, every turn. Just keep going until the world behind us became too far away to chase us.
But we stopped.
She jumped out first, barefoot in the sand before I could reach the passenger door. The waves were calling to her and she answered without hesitation. The sound of it all—the wind, the tide, the way she breathed—felt like something I'd only ever find here, with her.
I grabbed the blanket and followed, wrapping it around us as we sank into the cold sand. Her head rested near my neck, and I kissed the soft space beneath her jaw. She didn't speak, just let her fingers brush my collarbone, the movement slow, like she was memorizing the shape of me.
We stayed there for hours. Saying nothing. Watching the stars. Waiting for the sun to rise—not to feel its warmth, but just to know it was still rising.
For those few minutes, everything in the world was quiet. The sun peeked out over the ocean before hiding again behind the Forks clouds, and in that moment I swore she looked… whole. Her smile didn't falter. Her body didn't brace. It was like the pain forgot her for a little while.
She looked free.
The scan took five minutes. Five long minutes of watching her lie perfectly still in the next room while Carlisle reviewed the screen beside me.
"It's the same," he finally said.
"What do you mean the same?" My voice came out sharper than I intended. "You've seen what she goes through—how is there no change? No trauma? Nothing?"
"High cortisol levels. We'll treat that."
I buried my face in my hands. Seven hours. Her last episode had lasted seven hours.
"You need to hunt, Edward," Carlisle said without looking at me. "You're fraying at the edges."
I didn't answer. He knew I wouldn't. He also knew he was right.
"There's more tests I want to run next week. Bring her in again. I'll stay with her so you can take care of yourself for a few hours."
My jaw clenched. I didn't want to leave her. I never did. But that didn't mean I hadn't thought about it—especially at 2 a.m., when the woods whispered to me and her body burned against mine in her sleep.
Once, a deer wandered too close to the house. It was enough. I slipped away, fed, and returned before she even stirred. A rare moment of grace. One I hadn't seen since.
Bella's POV (Flashback)
"BELLA!"
Max's voice cracked across the parking lot like a whip, startling me enough to drop my keys. He didn't care that he scared me—he never did. In fact, I was pretty sure he enjoyed it.
I ran to the Jeep, where he stood checking his watch, tapping his foot in exaggerated disappointment. He tossed his cigarette to the ground, opened the door for me, and rolled his eyes like it was all part of some ritual. It kind of was.
"Dr. Do-Very-Little still useless?"
"Useless as ever," I mumbled, digging through my bag for my phone.
"Lie through your teeth?"
"Like a pro."
Max was the only person who ever really knew what was going on. He knew I wasn't being treated. That Diaz had stopped trying years ago. That silence was safer than honesty.
Anna made the rule: don't tell them. Don't give them more reasons to medicate what they don't understand.
It wasn't fair to Max. He carried more than he should have. He was thrown into the mess without a choice, and still, he never left.
To everyone else, Max was loud and obnoxious, full of bad jokes and bruised knuckles. But to me, and to Anna, he was the safest person in the world.
His house became the only place I could go when I felt the pain creeping in. His dad was barely there, which made it even easier to disappear.
Sometimes we'd drive into the middle of nowhere and wait it out. Me, writhing in the dirt like a dying animal, while Max sat beside me like it was normal.
Sometimes I hated that. Sometimes I needed it more than air.
"Where is she?"
"With Lizzie and Chris. Beach."
He didn't even need to ask if I wanted to go. He already knew.
The beach at night was ours. Me, Anna, Max. No one else. We'd stay until the sun came up, our bodies warmed by something deeper than fire—something like blood or magic or both. I'd wake to Max's arm over me and Anna's breath against my neck and for one moment, I didn't feel cursed.
We had built a wall, the three of us. No one was allowed in. Especially not her.
My mother had a bond with Anna once. Something warm and real. She never had that with me. Maybe I destroyed it. Or maybe she just gave up.
Anna chose me. She stepped over the line and shut the door behind her. And I knew, even before she died, that my mother would never forgive me for that.
Edward's POV
Her mother wasn't due for another week, and already, everything felt different.
Bella was quieter. Distant. Like her voice was buried under layers of memory she didn't want to unpack.
I tried to distract her—took her to the beach in the mornings, made her breakfast, offered movies every night—but nothing worked. I knew she wasn't sick. Not like that. But I could feel it building behind her eyes.
She curled up beside me on the couch, too warm against my chest. Too quiet.
"You okay?"
"I'm fine."
A lie. But it slipped from her lips so easily I almost believed it. Until I looked into her eyes and saw the shadow clinging there.
She kissed me, soft and slow, like she was trying to find something in it. And when she pulled back, the question was already on my tongue—but she cut me off with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
Of course I knew better.
Still, I didn't push. I never wanted to be one more person who pushed.
I was just about to finally tell her I needed to hunt when the raccoon knocked over the trash can again. She sighed and went upstairs. I walked outside, scared it off, and picked up the can.
And then I heard the sound.
A gasp. Then a crash. Then silence.
I ran.
When I reached her room, I froze in the doorway.
Two boxes lay open on the floor. Anna's things—scattered everywhere. Books, photographs, little pieces of the life Bella had locked away and kept untouched.
She stood frozen above the mess, one hand clutching a shirt, the other trembling at her side.
"Bella?"
No answer.
"Let me help—"
"No. Don't."
The sound of her voice hit me harder than anything else. It wasn't pain. It was grief. Raw, unfiltered, unbearable.
She wasn't having an episode. Not a physical one.
This was something else.
Her breath hitched, muscles locking, tears falling faster than she could stop them.
And I knew. This wasn't the first time she'd collapsed like this.
"Bella, it's okay. Come sit. You're safe."
"No," she whispered, "I can't."
I lowered us to the floor. She didn't resist. She just fell into me, body shaking, mind miles away.
"It's okay," I whispered over and over again, holding her tighter. "You're okay. I've got you."
And this time, I wouldn't let her go.