Katinki graciously edited this story.


Chapter 27

You know how when you're nervous, it often feels like you have very real stomach cramps?

Your gut tightens and twists, and you keep dashing to the bathroom, which is definitely not ideal when you've got something important to do outside the house, like an exam or a big presentation at work, and that's why you're nervous in the first place. I actually read about this somewhere, and apparently, it has a fancy name: the "gut-brain axis." Interestingly, it works both ways. If your digestive system is upset, your brain often interprets it as stress, which makes you feel nervous.

For the rest of the time until Edward returns from France, I can't tell whether I have a stomach flu, food poisoning, or it's just my gut reacting to the chaos in my brain. I feel nauseated all the time. It's as though my stomach has turned into the butterfly exhibit at the Pacific Science Center that Alice and I attended during our freshman year, with its myriad fragile wings fluttering in a cramped space. I begin to worry that something is really wrong with me, and that only makes the churning worse. A couple of times, I even ask Siobhan to check my forehead for a fever, but she assures me that I don't have one.

Maybe I'm just tired, although, for the life of me, I can't imagine what could have worn me out this much.

My earlier burst of productivity has vanished, and I can't believe that just a few days ago, I'd kept myself busy with so many tasks, with every minute filled with purpose—even if sometimes that purpose had felt manufactured. Now, I just drift from breakfast to lunch, and then from lunch to dinner, with little, if anything, done in between. I make it to each meal and sit there dutifully with the newspaper in hand, but don't ask me what's in it. The words blur before my eyes as I stare into nothing.

I do drink a lot of coffee—it's my drug of choice—which is probably why I can't fall asleep until the early hours of the morning. At home, I'd give up on trying to sleep and just scroll through my phone, but here, there's no escape from my jumbled thoughts. They just float around in my head, and I make no effort to examine them.

Because I know if I do, I'll have to face something I'm not ready for—and might never be.

Alistair and Maggie have gone out of town, and it's just as well. I wouldn't be able to act like my usual self in their presence. Two days ago, Alistair got a message that a relative on his side of the family from Guildford had unexpectedly died. Although winter travel is not something either of them enjoys (and for a good reason, as a carriage ride is torture with the current condition of the roads), Alistair was determined to go.

"Let us hope that, should we discharge our duty faithfully, the next occasion may find us attending a christening instead," he'd joked.

And Maggie? She would have never, ever let her husband go alone, I think wistfully.

Unlike…

But then, well, Edward and I are no Allistair and Maggie.

And as Aro said, I know precious little about him.

Clearly.

I should be using my infinite time and solitude to think about what I'm going to say to Edward, but I can't bring myself to think about it. Instead, I just lie apathetically in bed, staring at the ceiling and counting hairline cracks in the plaster.

Was that dream about us in the forest a warning? I begin to fear that it might have been.

It's when Edward's finally back, in my room and in my arms, and I take the first lungful of his glorious scent, I suddenly know that Aro wasn't lying.

That Edward is my mate and I'm his.

I have no clue how this mating thing works, aside from the few words Aro shared, but I think I'm starting to understand it.

The single-mindedness and the simplicity of it.

How, the moment I see him, it's like a giant splinter is pulled from my chest—relieving the pain and healing the wound—and instantly, the world feels just right. Like a place I actually want to be. A place worth living in.

But then I remember that he doesn't see it that way.

He thinks it's not worth it: being, living.

To him, my soul matters more, at least in the long run.

And for the first time since my conversation with Aro, I feel rage.

XXX

"How was France?" I ask, making a monumental effort to pull away from his sweet mouth and free myself from his embrace.

It's the middle of the night, but I'm fully dressed. I wasn't sure what time he was supposed to arrive in London, but I'd hoped—and dreaded—that he would come straight to me.

A sudden shadow crosses his face as he glances around the room.

"It was… good!" Edward says distractedly. "The Parisian audience was most accepting. Every single recital was sold out." His brows furrow, and he shakes his head as if pushing away a thought.

"Was Carlisle pleased?" I attempt a smile, ignoring his odd behavior.

"Carlisle enjoyed the tour far more than I did. He found himself some company at the l'École de Médecine, and thus I barely saw him during the day…" He trails off, then looks at me intently. "Bella… did you have any visitors?"

I search his face. All of a sudden, it's absolutely blank.

"Well, if you're asking the question, you must know the answer," I say slowly. "Yes. Aro was here, about a week ago."

His nostrils flare for a second, but then he's calm again. "May I ask what he wanted?"

"Nothing new. He clearly came to tell me things, not to ask," I say.

Silence.

"Aren't you curious as to what he told me?" I ask.

His Adam's apple bobs as he briefly closes his eyes. "Forgive me, my love. I am utterly shocked that he would arrive in such a manner. He must have frightened you." He gently lifts my chin with his index finger and studies me. My head starts spinning, and I lock my muscles in place, trying to keep my composure. "He was most assuredly out of bounds. What did he say?"

Edward's tone is light, but I know him well. His nonchalance is just a little too perfect.

"He said that you offered 100 years of servitude in The Guard in exchange for my ability to continue living my human life," I say quietly. "He also said that you want to die after concluding that servitude because I'm your mate and because a vampire's life becomes unbearable when their mate dies. So, Aro agreed to help you."

More silence.

"Edward… Is this true?" My voice trembles, and I have to clutch handfuls of my skirt behind my back to keep my hands from shaking.

A muscle twitches in his jaw. Still, he says nothing.

Is he calculating his chances of lying to me—lie for real this time, and get away with it? I'll never know for sure if he denies it.

"It is true," he finally says. "I did not wish you to know. Did not want you to feel the sadness. It would kill me to cause another tear on your beautiful face."

Oh.

A wave of sickness washes over me.

"All of it?"

He nods.

My blood boils.

"Are you kidding me? What kind of relationship do you think we have then? Why am I learning this really big, important stuff from Aro?!" I try not to raise my voice, but it's hard.

"Bella… I want your life to be joyful, not marred by the thought of… after. That was my only reason for not revealing the nature of my agreement with Aro. I only had your best interest in mind," he says in a steady, calm tone.

"Well, too bad, because now I know!" I spin around and pace angrily to the other side of the room. "How am I supposed to live happily ever after knowing that you're eventually preparing to die by suicide? Or by Aro, to be precise."

"It is going to be a mercy, really. I shall welcome it. Do not think about it, my love." His voice is so gentle, so loving, that my eyes immediately begin to prickle with tears.

"So, I'm truly your mate then? Or at least, you think so. You happened to stumble upon something extremely precious and exceedingly rare for your kind. And still, you'll let me, your freaking mate, die human and then kill yourself as if it means nothing? And for what?! For some hypothetical chance to save my soul?"

Spelling it out like that makes it sound even more ridiculous.

"If you do not concern yourself with the welfare of your soul, then someone else must undertake that duty," he counters patiently.

My fists clench so hard that my nails dig into flesh. "I've told you time and time again that it's my soul. You're not responsible for it! Just… for once, try to see this from my perspective. Even if my soul is immortal, what good would that do me if you, my mate, won't even be in the same heaven or hell—or whatever afterlife—I end up in?"

He takes a slow, deep breath. "It is not clear if mating affects humans at all. There are no precedents, as far as I am aware. Humans are ever-changing. It is quite possible that you may outgrow our bond in a few years, and your heart will find a different calling."

"So, what, I'm your mate, but you're not sure if you're mine? That doesn't make any sense!"

Outgrow our bond, my ass.

"I guess only time will tell," he says quietly.

"Okay," I say. I want to stare him down but he's not looking at me. "Let me summarize: you expect me to go on with my human life while being married to you, a vampire, knowing all along that you will not survive my eventual death, but at the same time, refusing to turn me?"

"All I want is to give you the best life I can."

"What if I told you that my best life would be the one where I stand as your equal?" I demand.

"You know that I cannot do that, Bella." His voice is hardly audible.

"You keep saying that." Arms crossed over my chest, I pace the room. "Has it ever occurred to you that all these plans are based on what you want? Where am I in this relationship, Edward? I told you at the very beginning that I can't imagine myself in a union where I'm being managed, and I still can't. You make all the important decisions unilaterally, just like you did with our engagement. Nothing's changed." I pause for a breath and turn to face him. "You hide really important things from me, but the worst is that you make decisions about what's inherently mine, like my soul."

"I simply cannot comprehend why you are so fixated upon becoming a monster!" he exclaims, exasperated. Well, it looks like I've finally managed to unsettle him. "Have I not told you of all the consequences of such a choice? The perpetual torment of bloodthirst, the relentless urge to drain and destroy, the many lives taken before you gain even a modicum of control over your baser instincts—and that, only if you choose to resist them. There remains a very real possibility that, once turned, you may have no desire to resist your nature whatsoever."

"And I don't get why you have such a low opinion of my future self-control!" I retort indignantly. "Rosalie told me that you've never drained a human, and neither has Carlisle. She's planning to do the same. So why, of all people, do you have so little faith in my ability to resist?!"

"I am merely suggesting that this is a possible outcome. You have witnessed how Eleazar fared. And let us not forget that, should you become a vampire, Aro would never allow you peace. Do you truly wish to become a marionette in the hands of such a devious puppeteer?" he asks tersely, his eyes narrowed.

Aro is probably his trump card, and I must admit, the very mention of his name makes me shudder.

"Eleazar was drinking human blood for ages, so don't compare us," I tell him. "And Aro… we would find a way to handle him. Together, we could. So, I still don't get it. What is it? What's your problem, the real one?"

I suddenly feel all my blood rush to my face as my pulse pounds in my ears.

"My problem, as you call it, is that in asking me to turn you, you are knowingly choosing the path of evil. And although I love you more than words can convey, I cannot ignore the profound wrongness of it. When Carlisle transformed me, I had no choice—I was dying, beyond sense or decision. But you… you are choosing it while knowing the consequences all along. Sometimes I think that you want immortality more than you want me!"

I see red.

Swallowing the roar ready to burst from my throat, I grit out, "That's a low blow, Maestro Masen, and you should be ashamed. I only want this freaking immortality to be with you! But since we've apparently sunk to this level, let me ask, how much of your insistence to keep me human is really about your fear that I'd turn evil, and how much is about you proving to Aro that he can't win? Is this some kind of twisted competition between the two of you?!"

"YOU ARE WRONG!" he shouts with all the power of his inhuman lungs. The sound reverberates through my body, and as I take an involuntary step back, I faintly register that the glass of water on my nightstand shakes slightly. Just like my hands.

There's no way that the noise didn't wake Jessica, at the very least. When, a moment later, I hear her footsteps in the hallway and a knock at the door, I press my palms against my eyes and take a ragged breath, trying to calm down.

"Jessica, I'm fine," I say, cracking the door open just enough for her to see me. She tries to peer past me, lifting her candle over my head, but I gently move it away from my hair.

"Madame, I heard a man's voice!" she rasps, groggy from sleep. "Should I wake Mr. Felps?"

"Yes… no! I heard it as well. It must have been someone passing in the street. My window was open, and the sound carried in. I shall close it at once. Now, do go back to bed." I fake-yawn and push on the door, closing it.

Reluctantly, Jessica leaves.

As Edward lights another candle, I whisper, "Please be quiet."

He nods.

We sit in silence for another long, heavy stretch of time. There's no more hostility between us. Just exhaustion.

Finally, he clears his throat. "Jessica has fallen asleep."

I nod. He says nothing more.

"Aro told me that your agreement won't come into effect until a year after the Schubert concert," I say. "Do you think your decision might change by then?"

I want to infuse my words with emotion, to make this last-ditch effort to sway him count, but there's no fight left in me.

I know I've already lost.

"You ask me to end your life in a manner far more final than any common death, all so that I might continue with my unnatural existence. How am I to feel regarding such a request?" he whispers. "I cannot. I simply cannot do it. Not now, not ever."

"But… Never mind. Well… There's no other way then. I… Edward, I can't stay." The words startle me. "I can't stay knowing that you could make us happy but instead, you chose to lie to me, if only by omission, to disregard my wishes, and to make me sorry that we met at all. If we hadn't, you would just go on with your existence, but now..."

I can't finish the sentence. The lump in my throat suddenly grows too big, and I begin to cry. Edward's face crumples. He reaches for me, but then his hand falls, and he turns away, tugging at his hair.

This hurts so much that I would gladly give everything I have to take my words back. I want to tell him that I would never, ever be sorry that I met him because it's impossible to be sorry that something so good and beautiful happened to me.

Then I think that it would turn into a repeat of our conversation after Ben's funeral, and say nothing.

After a moment, Edward turns to me, his neutral expression back in place. Looking away, he says, "I shall never regret that I met you. But then, I have always known that my feelings for you were stronger."

"It's not a competition!" I shake my head. "That's irrelevant, though. We can't stay together. We have to break our engagement."

Edward remains motionless for a while, fists balled at his sides, before straightening his posture and offering me a formal bow. "I was afraid that it would come to this, although I understand and accept it. In a way, I am relieved. However, please consider that breaking an engagement that has been so public might be detrimental to your reputation. And possibly to Sir Alistair's as well. His political career might be threatened."

Rage that I'd believed had been washed away with my tears flares back to life. "Well, I don't care about what people will think, and hopefully, Alistair's reputation will survive this," I say wryly. "Plus, we don't have to make an immediate announcement that we broke up."

Edward's jaw ticks. "That sounds reasonable. I…" There's a long pause. "I shall remove myself from London entirely. While in Paris, I received a most serious invitation from an impresario in Philadelphia who desires to arrange a grand tour for me in America. At the time, I gave it little consideration, but now I believe it offers the very escape I require. I shall depart for America without delay. In due course, you may announce that our engagement has been dissolved due to my prolonged absence."

"Wait…" I blink. "America? How can you go to America now? It's winter!"

"Cargo ships sail from Cádiz throughout the year. As I am in no need of any particular accommodations, I shall secure passage on a vessel without delay. Do not concern yourself—I shall not overstay, madame."

He's suddenly distant and cold, avoiding my gaze.

It looks like he's about to leave, too.

In mere seconds, my heart will leap out the window, and I'll never see it again.

"Edward!" I call after him, wiping away the tears that stream down my face with renewed force.

He stops in his tracks and turns to face me. His face is a mask—as beautiful as ever, but utterly devoid of any fleeting emotions and reflecting only the calm of eternity.

It looks familiar.

I abruptly realize that it's the same face he wore during all those months I spent at Cullen Platt.

I clear my throat. "Are you going to see Aro on your way to Cádiz?"

"I cannot fathom why I would take such a detour," he says in an indifferent tone.

So, Aro won't be able to know right away. I can't risk him interfering with my plans, but I can't not tell Edward either.

"I think I found a way to travel home… I'm not sure if it will take me to my time, but I'm going to try it anyway. I just thought that you should know."

I fix my gaze on him, searching. Something flickers in his eyes, stealing my breath, but then he's calm and marble once more.

"I wish you well, madame," he says with another bow.

"You, too, Edward," I echo, and the next moment, he's gone.

I stand by the open window, ignoring the bite of the chilly wind. The splinter is back in my chest, only this time, it's bigger.

Colder. Sharper.

I have a vague thought that I might have caught one of those shards from the Troll's Mirror and that I should prepare to soon become cold, unfeeling, and cruel like that little boy, Kai.

But so far, all it does is make me numb.

Which right now, is a very good thing.

Without a word, I close the window and climb into my bed, not bothering to undress.

Then, I sleep.

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A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But… this was kind of inevitable, right? Don't worry, this isn't the end:). I still have about six more chapters planned, so stay tuned! Oh, and I just started a new job, so I probably won't be able to update every Monday, but I'll do my best to aim for every other Monday. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, you're the best!