Chapter 6

Edward's POV

"I can't leave her."

She said it like a confession. Like she'd admitted to something unforgivable. Her voice cracked as the words fell from her mouth, but the shame in her eyes said more than her voice ever could. And I couldn't understand it—why she looked so horrified for saying something so clearly true. So human.

At first I thought she meant me. That she was afraid I'd leave. But this wasn't that. This wasn't about abandonment. This was about guilt.

Bella was terrified not of being left behind—but of being the one to leave.

And in this moment, sitting with her among the scattered pieces of Anna's life, I understood.

She couldn't let go.

Anna was gone, and yet—she was everywhere. In the photos, the books, the trinkets spilled across the floor. In the scent that still clung to her things. They smelled alike—Bella and Anna—but not the same. One sweeter, one sharper. Two halves of something whole, even in death.

Bella had collapsed in my arms moments ago, barely breathing, trembling like something small and cornered. And now I held her close, my arms around her waist, our legs tangled, her back to my chest. My chin rested on her shoulder as I whispered into her ear to breathe. In. Out. Match me. Stay here.

I watched her stare at the floor, her eyes glazed and wide, locked on the mess at her feet. And I realized—this was why she never unpacked. Why she kept the boxes close but untouched. She couldn't hide Anna away in another room, but she couldn't face her either. This limbo was the only place she could survive.

I followed her gaze to a photo that had landed apart from the others. Two girls laughing, arms around each other, matching shirts and jeans. They looked so painfully young. Carefree. She was fixated on it.

I let one hand move gently from her waist to the photo, my other still wrapped around her. She didn't stop me. I brought it closer, slowly, and felt her body begin to soften against mine.

"Max loved that," she whispered, just as her fingers traced the edge of the image, her hand still shaking.

I glanced down at the photo. Max. I remembered him—vaguely. Blonde hair, quick thoughts, protective posture when he picked Anna up that day. He'd been there a long time, apparently. Long enough to know them both.

"He used to get us to dress alike," she said, a faint smile ghosting her lips, even as her voice trembled. "He thought it was hilarious. Said people deserved the confusion."

"But he could tell the difference," I said quietly, already guessing what she'd say next.

She nodded slowly. "Always. Even in photos. Our own mom couldn't do that. Not just by looking."

Her eyes were glassy again, but she didn't cry this time. Not yet.

"It makes you feel…" she started, but couldn't finish.

I didn't need her to. I knew.

Invisible. Replaceable. Like someone who could disappear and no one would notice.

And worst of all—like someone who was never really seen in the first place.

"He could always tell which one of us was Anna," she'd said.

Not her.

Max had noticed Anna. Loved her. Chose her. He learned the smallest details that made her Anna. Bella had watched someone fall in love with her twin and never once pause to look at her the same way.

I tapped the photo gently. "That's you."

She froze.

Her head turned slowly, her eyes searching my face for a lie I wasn't telling.

I smiled softly and leaned forward, reaching for another photo. "That's you."

Another. "That's you."

And another—so blurry I could barely make them out. "Still you."

She was staring at me like I'd cracked some impossible code.

I reached up and cupped her face. My thumb brushed away a tear, then traced her jaw until my hand rested under her chin, tilting her toward me.

More tears welled, but they didn't scare me.

They were real.

And they meant she believed me.

I kissed her forehead, her cheek, then her lips—slow, steady, grounding.

"I see you, Bella."

She closed her eyes and let the breath leave her lungs.

Bella's POV (Flashback)

"You're being a bitch," Max said, not looking up as he pulled a card from the deck.

"That's funny," I muttered, "I was just about to say the same thing to you."

He rolled his eyes and dropped three cards in front of him. "Three of a kind."

I sighed and laid down my own hand. "Full house."

He groaned and I started shuffling the deck again. Anna had taken off in his Jeep, not explaining much other than "plans." That left me and Max alone—again. We'd been playing poker for hours, killing time.

He was patient. Too patient. I could feel him watching me, waiting for me to cave.

"You'll have more fun without me," I said eventually, dealing a new hand.

"It's your birthday," he snapped. "They're throwing the party for you."

"No. They're throwing it for Anna. It's fine, really."

Max dropped his cards and threw his head back with an exaggerated groan.

"They're our friends, Bells. You like cake. You like music. Come on, just—"

"They're her friends. Your friends. They barely tolerate me."

"They don't hate you."

I raised a brow.

"They… don't like you," he admitted, voice cracking with guilt. "But they don't hate you."

"I'd rather stay here."

Silence stretched between us. I stared at my cards. He stared at me.

"You're the most distrusting person on the planet," he said finally, low and tense.

I didn't respond.

A second passed. Then he exhaled.

"That was a dick thing to say. I'm sorry."

I nodded, not looking up.

"It's fine."

"It's not," he said, and reached across the bed, his fingers resting lightly on my knee. I looked up, startled by the softness in his eyes.

"I know you've got your reasons. I shouldn't have said that."

He meant it. I just didn't know what to do with that.

Edward's POV

"It'll only be a few hours," I promised, holding up the painting for her to judge.

"To the left," Bella said, lips twitching.

I adjusted it and waited.

"I'll be back before you and Carlisle are even home from the hospital."

She rolled her eyes, amused. "It's okay, Edward. I said it's fine."

Still, I hovered—waiting for any sign she wasn't.

"That's perfect," she added with a nod.

She was already fluffing pillows and arranging a blanket like it had to pass inspection. We'd spent the morning shopping for new touches—things to make the house feel like home. It was technically for her mother's visit, but I knew Bella liked it more than she'd admit.

And she needed it. She needed this control. This calm.

Even if it was temporary.

She walked over and wrapped her arms around my neck. I rested my hands on her waist.

"I should've told you earlier," I murmured. "About the hunting trip."

"Stop feeling guilty. Everything is—"

"Fine?"

She smiled, stood on her toes, and kissed me.

But something in her smile didn't reach her eyes. She was doing what she always did—pushing forward and pretending yesterday never happened. Pretending the panic didn't still sit behind her ribs.

She wanted to be okay.

But the cracks were still there.

And they always came back.