My feet hovered at the edge of the tree line. One step, and I’d be in the meadow. One step, and I’d see him. I could still turn around and walk away—but I didn’t want to. I wasn’t sure what I wanted, except to stop feeling like I was drowning every time I woke up.
Stepping fully into the meadow, my eyes found him.
He looked the same—unfairly perfect, just as my memories had promised. His skin caught the sunlight like carved alabaster, his golden eyes unreadable, and his posture rigid. But something was missing. He wasn’t smiling. His expression was… blank. Like he was bracing for something.
Good. So was I.
He took one slow, methodical step forward, and I countered by taking a step backward. Part of me wanted to turn and run, but another part, the part that still longed for him, wanted to rush into his arms.
The silence between us stretched, heavy and uncertain. I hated that I didn’t know why he wanted me here. I hated more that I’d come anyway. If I could’ve read his thoughts—if I could’ve known that he missed me, that he regretted it—I might’ve felt grounded. But right now, I was standing in quicksand.
I took a slow breath and another step into the clearing.
He didn’t move.
Every step toward him was a battle between my instinct to run and the months of hollow pain that begged for this moment. I kept my pace even, my breathing steady. I would not fall apart in front of him. Not yet.
I stopped a few feet away. “Why now, Edward?”
His eyes flickered. For a second, I thought I saw something crack through his mask—guilt maybe, or longing—but it vanished before I could be sure.
“I needed to see you,” he said, his voice rough. “There’s… so much I need to explain.”
“I bet.” I crossed my arms. “Because ‘I don’t want you’ didn’t quite cover it.”
He winced.
Good.
I wasn’t going to pretend I wasn’t hurt. I wasn’t going to pretend this was easy. I had fought like hell to survive without him. I wasn’t going to hand him forgiveness like it cost me nothing.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I believed leaving would protect you. But I see now—I was wrong. I made you suffer.”
“Yes. You did,” I said, voice trembling. “You broke me, Edward. And then you disappeared. No calls. No letters. Not even a goodbye I could hold onto. Just silence. Like I never mattered.”
His face twisted with pain, and he looked away, jaw clenched.
“You mattered, Bella. You always did. I thought I was strong enough to leave for your sake—but I was a coward. I ran instead of facing what I’d become with you. And I was wrong.”
The words sank in slowly. They didn’t erase the months of agony, or the way I’d begged my subconscious just to forget him. But they were real. Raw.
Still—I wasn’t ready to forgive him. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“You don’t get to do this and expect me to just fall apart for you,” I said. “I may still love you—God help me, I probably always will—but I’m not the same girl you left in those woods.”
His eyes met mine again. There was no denial in them. Just aching.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Bella. I just need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere again—not unless you send me away.”
The meadow pulsed with memory. And part of me—the broken part—wanted to believe him. But the rest of me remembered screaming into pillows at night, trying to claw the emptiness out of my chest.
“You’ve said a lot of words, Edward. But I lived through your absence. And I’m still here. Still standing.”
He nodded, swallowing hard. “I know. And that’s why you’re stronger than me.”
I stepped forward slowly, almost against my will. Not because I was ready to fall into him. But because I needed to feel what this moment really was. To face it head-on.
“I’m still furious,” I whispered. “You don’t just come back and erase all that pain.”
“I’ll never ask you to.” His voice cracked. “But I’ll spend every moment I have trying to make up for it.”
I stopped inches from him.
There was a pause.
And then, because I still wanted it—because I still needed him, even if I hated how much—I stepped into his arms.
He wrapped around me, careful, reverent. I trembled against him, but I didn’t sob. Not this time.
“I’m not okay,” I said into his chest. “But I’m not broken anymore either. You don’t get to fix me. I did that myself.”
“I know,” he whispered. “But I’d like to help you stay whole.”
A beat passed.
Then I pulled back, just enough to look at him. “One condition.”
“Anything.”
“You don’t leave. Not again. No more decisions made for me.”
He nodded, solemn. “No more.”
I leaned into him for a long moment, letting the silence settle like dust. But eventually, he drew back with a grimace. “Bella… you smell.”
I blinked. “Gee, thanks.”
“No, not like that—it’s…” He sniffed. “Werewolf.”
I stepped away. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been around them. It’s strong.”
“Is that a problem?” I don’t know what he was talking about, but I wasn’t going to tell him that.
“No,” he said quickly, then hesitated. “It’s just unexpected.”
“Well, we’ve both been doing unexpected things lately,” I muttered. “Let’s not make it a contest.”
He looked faintly amused. “Fair enough.”
I let Edward hold me, but this time I wasn’t losing myself in him. I was still there—every scar, every moment of silence I’d survived, every piece of strength I’d fought for. I felt the press of his arms around me, but I didn’t melt the way I used to. My bones didn’t go soft. I didn’t forget.
Because this time, I knew what it meant to fall apart.
I pulled back slightly and looked up at him, studying the face I used to ache for. His eyes were wide, cautious. As if he expected me to vanish.
“You don’t get to be everything to me again,” I said quietly. “Not like before. Not after what it took to become myself again.”
He didn’t flinch. “I wouldn’t ask for that. But I want to earn a place beside you—whatever place you’ll give me.”
The honesty in his voice made my throat catch. I hated how much I wanted to believe him. I hated that part of me still felt like that girl in the forest, crushed and left behind. But I wasn’t her anymore.
I straightened up. “I’m not just yours anymore, Edward. I’m mine. And if you’re here because you think I’ll collapse back into you—don’t.”
“I’m here,” he said softly, “because I know I’ll never deserve your forgiveness—but I still love you. And I want to fight for you. On your terms.”
For a moment, we stood there—two broken people facing the wreckage they’d left in each other’s lives. And then I nodded.
“You can stay,” I said. “But this time, you walk beside me. Not in front. Not behind.”
His lips parted like he might speak, but he stopped, nodded once, and offered me his hand.
I took it.
Not to belong to him.
But to remind myself I had the power to choose him again—and that I could walk away if I had to.
And if he left again, I wouldn’t break.
I would bend.
I would burn.
But I wouldn’t vanish.
Because I had built something inside myself while he was gone.
And no one—not even this man I still loved—was going to take that from me again.
“I can’t go home,” I said after a beat. “I sort of cursed Charlie out in the hospital. I’m pretty sure he’s not in the mood to see me—especially not with you.”
Edward sighed. “Then we’ll go to my place. Alice and Carlisle are there.”
A ghost of a smile touched my lips. “Alice? She’s going to have a field day with this.” I gestured to myself.
“She’s already planning outfits, no doubt.”
I let myself relax a little, the tension softening at the edges. “Okay. Let’s go.”
He scooped me up like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I clung to him as he ran.
For the first time in months, the hole in my chest didn’t ache.
His arms locked around me as we moved through the trees, the world blurring past in green and gray smears. The wind clawed at my face and tangled in my hair, but I hardly felt it. I was too focused on the sensation of being held by him again. His scent. The quiet strength of his arms. The unbearable familiarity of it all.
And yet, beneath the comfort, a storm twisted in my chest.
How many nights had I cried myself into silence over this man?
How many times had I screamed into my pillow, begged the universe to bring him back, only to be answered with dreams so vivid they cracked me open when I woke?
He’d left.
Without a goodbye worth remembering.
Without a single glance back.
And now, here I was, wrapped around him again like nothing had happened. Like the earth hadn’t swallowed me whole in his absence.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I wanted to hit him. I wanted to scream at him until the leaves fell off the trees.
But at the same time—I wanted to stay in his arms forever.
It was maddening.
I hated how easily my body still responded to his.
How my breath caught every time his voice dropped low.
How one look from him still made the world fade.
Was I really this weak? Had nothing changed?
No.
No.
I wasn’t that broken girl anymore.
The one who begged ghosts in her sleep.
The one who counted the minutes just to survive them.
I had survived him.
And that meant something.
But God… even now, pressed against him, I could feel the pieces inside me that still leaned toward him like a flower turns to the sun. Like somewhere in my marrow, my body still believed he was home.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted to love him again—or rip my heart out before he could.
And yet, I held on.
Not because I trusted him.
Not yet.
But because I needed to know if I could still trust myself.
If I could look him in the eyes and say:
You broke me.
And I’m still here.
If I could face him without losing myself all over again.
And maybe—just maybe—figure out if there was still something worth saving between us.
But as the trees blurred past, I kept one thought anchored in my mind:
I might let him hold me again.
I might even learn to trust him again.
But I wouldn’t forget what he’d done.
And I wouldn’t lose myself again.
Not even for him.
1.7562 Billion Miles 