Chapter : Frozen

Edward's POV

She hadn't moved in hours.

Bella sat upright on the bed, staring blankly at the ground, pale and dazed. The dark circles beneath her eyes had deepened, her skin too ashen, her lips colorless. The grief sat heavily on her, pressing her down, hollowing her out.

I sat beside her, turned toward her, watching—waiting—for any flicker of life in her expression. Any reaction at all.

But there was nothing.

Twenty-four hours. That was how long it had been since the officer had stood at the door and shattered her world.

Twenty-four hours since she had collapsed in my arms, screaming, begging for it not to be true.

Since then, she had barely spoken. Only the broken pleading that had escaped in her sobs, the desperate *no's* that had ripped through her throat in the moments between sleeping and waking. But even sleep didn't last long. She would doze for mere moments before it came crashing back over her, and then she would break all over again.

I reached out, brushing her tangled hair back from her face. She didn't react.

"Bella," I said softly. "Do you want something to eat?"

Silence.

She didn't acknowledge me. Didn't even blink.

I exhaled slowly, smoothing my fingers down the back of her head in acceptance of her silence.

"Do you want me to call anyone?"

A barely perceptible flinch.

I felt a sharp pang of regret for even asking.

But we both knew there was no avoiding it.

If I didn't call Renee, someone else would. Renee still had connections here, people who would assume she already knew. It was only a matter of time before the news made its way back to her.

And even lost in her grief, Bella knew it too.

Her fingers curled slightly on her lap, her nails pressing into her palm. Her eyes, which had been so lifeless, hardened just slightly—as though she were playing out the conversation in her mind, bracing herself for the inevitable.

Then, just as quickly, she shook her head ever so slightly, as if wiping the thought away.

"I can call her," I offered gently.

A small, barely noticeable nod. Then nothing.

I watched her for a moment longer. She looked so fragile—so breakable—that I almost didn't dare touch her. As if the wrong move, too much pressure, would shatter her completely.

Her lips parted, and in the smallest voice I had ever heard from her, she whispered, "Can you do it now?"

I swallowed hard, pressing a kiss to her cool brow.

"Of course."

I stood slowly, my eyes lingering on her unmoving form before I forced myself out of the room. I had to put distance between us—I *had* to—because hearing this conversation would only break her further.

I stepped outside into the cold, into the silence of a world that didn't care that everything had changed. The wind still blew. The rain still dripped from the trees. The earth still turned.

And Charlie was still gone.

I pulled out my phone, hesitated for half a second, then dialed.

It only rang once before she picked up.

"Bella?" Renee's voice was light, expectant, unaware. A mother answering the phone without a thought that the world had caved in overnight.

I closed my eyes. *This is going to hurt her.*

"It's Edward," I said quietly.

There was a pause. Then, the slightest edge of concern. "Oh. Is Bella okay?"

No.

No, she wasn't.

I forced the words out, each syllable feeling like a death knell.

"Renee… I'm so sorry. It's Charlie."

Silence.

Then, a sharp inhale.

I told her. I told her in the gentlest way I could, but the words still landed like a blade, still sliced through her, still left her gasping.

She didn't ask me to repeat it. Didn't make me say it again.

Instead, her voice cracked as she whispered, "No."

And then it began.

The frantic questions. The heartbreak spilling through the receiver. The panic in her voice as she told me she was coming, that she'd be here as soon as she could.

I let her speak. Let her feel. And when she finally quieted, when the only sound left was her ragged breathing, I told her what she needed to know.

Bella was here. Bella wasn't alone. I would take care of her until she got here.

She thanked me in a voice that barely sounded like her own.

Then the call ended.

I stood there for a moment, gripping the phone tightly, letting the weight of what had just happened settle.

Two days ago, everything had been normal.

Now?

Now, nothing ever would be again.

I turned back to the house, back to Bella.

When I stepped inside, she was still in the exact same position, frozen, her gaze locked on the floor.

I sat beside her again, carefully, like approaching a wounded animal.

"She's coming," I told her softly.

Bella didn't move.

But I saw it—the flicker of disapproval in her eyes before she blinked it away.

I didn't question it.

I didn't press.

But as I watched her—watched her sit there, so still, so empty—I wondered, now more than ever, what was going through her mind.