{FF}[A Thread Unbroken] Chapter 21: Before The Storm

By the time Thursday arrived, Edward and I had barely seen each other all week.

Between my staying late at school to meet with teachers—trying to finish the last few credits I needed to graduate early—and the Cullens disappearing every evening, our time together had been reduced to quiet moments before bed. I’d wake up alone each morning, unsure how long he’d stayed beside me. He never said.

And I was tired of pretending I didn’t notice.

By the time lunch rolled around, I was done keeping the questions to myself.

“Why have you been disappearing every night?” I asked, keeping my tone level.

Edward looked up from his untouched tray, his face unreadable. “Just some family time.”

“But not at the house.” It wasn’t a question. I knew something was happening. Several times this week, I’d woken up in the middle of the night to find the house empty.

“Could I come with you one night?”

He hesitated, then looked away. That was answer enough. But he still said, “Bella…”

I glanced at Alice across the table—and instantly regretted it. Her eyes were vacant, faraway. A vision. Edward noticed too, and his jaw tensed as he turned back to me. “You don’t need to come with us.”

“Why not? If it’s just family time, what’s the harm?”

“Bella, this isn’t something you need to worry about,” Alice said, her voice soft but firm.

That did it. I turned to glare at her. “I’m not asking out of curiosity. I’m asking because I deserve to know. Do you guys actually consider me part of this family, or not?”

Edward reached out, his hand brushing my cheek, his touch trying to soften me. “Please,” he murmured. “Just let it go. Trust us.”

I held his gaze. His eyes were heavy with something he wasn’t saying. But that wasn’t good enough anymore.

“You want me to trust you?” I said quietly. “Then trust me. If we’re going to get married, Edward, you have to talk to me. You have to stop deciding what I can and can’t handle.”

He didn’t answer right away. His hand lingered on my cheek as he turned to glance at Alice. Something silent passed between them. When he looked back at me, I could already see it in his eyes—he was going to give in.

“Bella,” he said quietly, “you have my word—I’ll tell you everything. Just… not here. After school.”

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my lips before pulling away. Around us, the cafeteria was clearing out, students filing off to their next class. Edward stood and reached for my hand, leading me out into the hallway without another word.

The rest of the day passed in silence. Neither of us brought up the conversation again, but the tension hung there, just under the surface.

When the final bell rang, I gathered my things slowly, already dreading the extra hours ahead. I turned to Edward. “I have to stay late again for my classes.”

He nodded. “Do you want me to bring your truck, or should I come pick you up?”

I hesitated. Driving myself would give me space—time to think. But time with him, uninterrupted, meant more right now.

“Could you come get me?”

“You never have to ask,” he said, brushing my hand. “I always will.”

He kissed me once more before heading toward the door. I watched him go, then sighed and turned back toward my next class.

***

The evening crawled. I shuffled from classroom to classroom, collecting extra homework, jotting notes, sitting through explanations I could barely focus on. It wasn’t lost on me how much work this was—how much time I was spending trying to rush toward a future that might not be what I was expecting.

Even with all the makeup work and weekend sessions, I was still only on track to finish four weeks early. Not enough to avoid school completely. I’d still have to attend after the transformation—something we’d all hoped to avoid.

Still, Edward had insisted I go through with it, especially the graduation ceremony. “For Charlie,” he’d said. And that was hard to argue with.

But part of me couldn’t help but wonder how much longer we could pretend like any of this was normal.

When the night drew to a close, I thanked my teacher and grabbed my things, headed for the parking lot.

Edward was waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. His face was blank, but I could see the storm in his eyes.

Fear prickled down my spine, settling into my chest. I forced out the words. “There’s no other way, is there?”

Edward reached for my face, his hands steady but gentle, guiding my eyes to his. “We don’t know for sure, Bella. After Jasper told you his story, Alice suggested I change you that night. I considered it. And when I did—when I made the decision—her vision shifted. She saw you as a vampire. But she still saw us in the meadow. The Volturi still came.”

I tried to laugh, but it came out thin. “That could mean anything. Maybe they don’t know I’ve changed. Maybe they’re just coming to check. It doesn’t have to mean a fight.”

He nodded slowly, as if clinging to the possibility. “Exactly. It doesn’t have to mean anything. But it could. Which means we have to be ready.”

“Is that why you’ve been leaving every night?”

He nodded slowly, his face solemn. “We’ve been going to the clearing where we played baseball,” he paused. “To train in vampire combat.”

Still, something didn’t sit right. One or two training sessions made sense. But they were in that clearing every night. All night. This wasn’t just about being cautious.

I stepped back, pulling from his grasp. “Edward. You’re not telling me everything. If you weren’t worried about something—really worried—you wouldn’t be going to these lengths. Just be honest with me.”

He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw, like he was trying to hold something back. When he spoke again, his voice was low and tight. “Alice can’t see past the meadow. None of our futures. Nothing.”

I went still.

“We don’t know why,” he continued. “The best we can figure is that… we don’t survive it.”

He looked at me then—really looked—and I saw the anger in his eyes. Not directed at me, but at the weight of what he couldn’t stop.

The silence between us deepened until it cracked under the pressure of my own thoughts. I leaned into him, pressing my cheek against his chest as the fear crept up and spilled out in silent tears.

So many things I hadn’t done.

I hadn’t visited Charlie enough. I hadn’t called my mother. I hadn’t married Edward.

That last one lodged itself in my chest and wouldn’t let go. If the end really was coming—if this was all we had—I wanted that. I wanted to be his wife. I wanted Isabella Cullen to be the name they remembered.

Edward wrapped his arms around me and held me tighter, whispering soft reassurances. They didn’t promise anything. But right now, they were enough to hold me together.

I stayed pressed against Edward’s chest, the hum of the car behind us grounding me while my mind reeled. Everything felt suspended—school, homework, graduation—all of it faded into static. If we were right, if Alice’s visions really ended in the meadow, then that might be all the time we had. Weeks. Maybe less.

And yet, I wasn’t frozen. My fear didn’t hollow me out like it once would have. It burned—yes—but it burned with purpose.

I thought about Charlie, how I’d barely seen him since I moved out. I thought about Renee, who still thought I’d be visiting her in the spring. I thought about Alice’s quiet sadness. Jasper’s scars. Esme’s smile when she handed me a plate of food she couldn’t taste. And Edward—my Edward—trying to carry the weight of all of this alone, again.

I knew what I wanted.

Not just Edward. A life with him. Or as much of one as we could still have.

I pulled back slowly and looked up at him. “Then let’s not waste what we have left.”

His eyes searched mine, uncertainty flickering across his features.

“I want to marry you,” I said quietly. “Not later. Not after. Now.”

Edward blinked. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. His eyes locked onto mine, wide and unguarded, as if the words had struck some part of him he hadn’t prepared to feel. Not like this.

“You… now?” His voice came low, barely above a whisper. Not incredulous, not doubtful—just stunned.

I nodded, heart pounding. “Yes. I know we talked about waiting, about doing it the right way, whatever that means. But I don’t want to wait. If this is all the time we have left, I don’t want to waste it.”

He still looked stunned, but something softer was creeping in behind his eyes now—relief, maybe. Awe. Love.

“You’re sure?” he asked, as if he needed to hear it again, needed to make sure this wasn’t some panic-driven rush to secure something before it was taken.

“I’m sure.” I smiled, despite the tightness in my chest. “I’m not doing this because I’m scared. I’m doing it because I’m certain.”

He exhaled then, and it sounded like something breaking open. He reached for my face, cupped it in his hands, and kissed my forehead like it was the most sacred thing in the world.

“Then I’ll marry you,” he whispered. “I’ll marry you as soon as you’ll let me.”

We didn’t speak right away. Instead, he opened the door for me to slide in, before slipping in himself.

The car sat in idle silence, the heater humming softly, headlights glowing across the edge of the parking lot. The windshield blurred with a fine mist. Edward’s hand rested between us, open, waiting. I slid mine into his, and the tension in his shoulders softened just enough for me to see it.

For a moment, we just breathed.

I watched the side of his face—his profile, carved from stillness. The weight of everything we knew pressed in around us, yet sitting here like this, our fingers laced together, it almost felt bearable. Almost.

“I’m not afraid of what’s coming,” I said quietly.

He turned his head, his eyes searching mine for the lie. I gave him none.

“I’m not,” I repeated. “Not if I get to face it with you.”

Edward closed his eyes for a beat, then brought my hand to his lips and kissed it gently, reverently. “You’re braver than I’ll ever be.”

We sat a few minutes longer, wrapped in that silence. Not empty silence, but one filled with understanding—something settled between us now. Whatever was coming, we’d face it together.

Then he exhaled and turned to the wheel.

“Are you ready to go home?”

I nodded, suddenly tired in a way that ran deeper than sleep.

As he pulled out of the parking lot, he said, “I hope you can forgive me. I didn’t want you to know because I wanted you to enjoy the time you had.”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Edward. I asked you to tell me.”

“There is something,” he said quietly. “If I had never come into your life, you wouldn’t be facing what you’re facing now.”

I turned sharply toward him, the sudden flash of anger cutting through my fatigue. “Don’t you ever say that to me again. I would rather die a thousand times than live a single day without ever knowing you.”

He flinched—just slightly—but said nothing more.

The rest of the drive passed in silence. Not the same as before. This one was heavier. Final.

I watched the trees pass outside the window, thinking about everything I hadn’t done. I’d need to see Charlie again. Renee, too. School felt pointless now, like a performance no longer meant for anyone. Only this—the time I had left—felt real.

When we pulled into the garage, Edward came around to my side and opened the door. He took my bag and helped me out, his hand warm in mine as he led me into the house.

The living room was empty.

“Are they still in the clearing?” I asked, scanning the room instinctively.

“Yes,” he said.

“You should get back out there then. I’ve got homework. If I’m not up, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He didn’t move. His hand tightened on mine.

“We haven’t had much time lately,” he said. “And I won’t leave you alone again tonight.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off softly.

“I should have stayed from the beginning.”

I understood what he meant. Every moment mattered now. But I also knew how badly he wanted to be prepared—how hard he was fighting the fear of losing me.

“You really should go,” I said. “You need to learn everything you can.”

He let go of my hand only to cup my face with both of his. His eyes locked onto mine, full of all the things he hadn’t said yet. “Bella, I’ve learned what I can. But I fear it won’t be enough. And if Alice still can’t see us leaving the meadow… then I’d rather spend what time we have left with you.”

The quiet felt different tonight.

Not the usual silence that lingered in the Cullen house—this was heavier, wrapped in meaning, humming with something unsaid. The others were still gone, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, we were truly alone. No whispered strategies. No watchful eyes. No ticking clock.

Just us.

Edward’s hand was warm around mine as he led me upstairs. He didn’t say anything when we stepped into his room—just turned to face me, his fingers still curled around mine, his thumb gently brushing my knuckles.

I couldn’t look away from him.

There was a kind of reverence in the way he looked at me now, like I was something fragile and infinite all at once. And when he finally spoke, his voice was lower than usual, more raw.

“You really want to get married sooner, rather than later?”

“Yes,” I whispered.

He exhaled as if he’d been holding that breath for days. Then his hand slipped from mine only to find my face, cradling it between his palms like it was something precious. I leaned into the touch, grounding myself in the feel of his skin, the look in his eyes.

“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured. “But I swear, Bella, I will never stop trying to.”

“You already do,” I said, reaching up to cover one of his hands with mine. “You always have.”

He kissed me then—not with desperation, not with restraint, but with the kind of aching tenderness that made the world fall away. I felt it everywhere—in my ribs, in my throat, in the way my knees softened beneath me. There was no rush, no fire—just a slow, deliberate burn, steady and consuming—slow and deep, his hand sliding up to cup the back of my neck. Every movement was deliberate, reverent, filled with all the things we didn’t know how to say. His lips traveled to my jaw, then down my throat, and I arched into him, letting my fingers slide under the hem of his shirt to feel the cool, marble-smooth skin beneath.

He shivered.

Without breaking the kiss, he walked me back toward the bed and lowered me gently onto the comforter. He stretched out beside me, one hand braced beside my head, the other settling over my heart.

“I can feel it,” he whispered, his lips brushing my jaw. “Every beat. Every breath.”

The moment shifted—grew fuller, heavier. But we didn’t push it further. We didn’t need to.

I exhaled shakily, overwhelmed. Not just by the heat between us, but by the ache beneath it—the fear, the quiet desperation to hold onto time that was already slipping through our fingers. 

His mouth found mine again, softer now, more tender than before. We stayed like that, wrapped in each other, our hands tangled, our breathing uneven.

This wasn’t about urgency. It wasn’t about lust. It was about presence. About claiming the hours we still had left, whatever number they might be.

We stayed that way for a while, saying nothing, his fingertips tracing the outline of my collarbone like he was trying to memorize it.

“I used to imagine this,” I whispered, “back when you were gone. Not just this—being here—but the weight of you beside me. Your hand on my skin. It didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt like a memory I hadn’t lived yet.”

His brow furrowed, and his hand stilled. “I hate that you had to feel that kind of absence. I hate that I caused it.”

I touched his lips with my fingers. “Then don’t focus on that. You’re here now. I’m here. That’s what matters.”

Eventually, he pulled me fully against him and tucked the blanket around us. I rested my head over his silent heart, my hand wrapped around the front of his shirt.

“This,” I murmured. “I want to remember this. Just like this.”

“You will,” he said, his voice quiet in the dark. “So will I.”

We lay like that, still wrapped in each other long after the last light faded from the windows, letting the night hold us as tightly as we held on to each other.

Eventually, the intensity began to settle, not from loss of feeling but from something deeper—contentment. My limbs grew heavy, my body sinking into his as the room dimmed around us. His fingers threaded through mine and stilled there, and I listened to the quiet hum of his presence, the low rhythm of words he whispered into my hair—things I barely heard, but felt completely.

I fell asleep with his arms around me and his voice in my ear, the steady rise and fall of my breathing the only sound between us.

Safe, for now.

Together.

***

I was in the meadow. Alone.

The spring air drifted soft and warm across my skin, stirring the wildflowers around me. Light filtered through the trees, and in the center of the clearing, a single beam of sunlight fell in a golden column—perfect and still.

I smiled faintly, remembering Edward stepping into the sun on a day like this—his skin catching the light like fire.

And just like that, he was beside me.

He didn’t make a sound. One moment I was alone, and the next he was sitting close, his presence warm despite the impossible coolness of his skin. He looked at peace—his face unguarded, his smile easy.

I sighed and turned away, not from him, but from the ache in my chest. The meadow had always been ours. A place of beginnings. But now, it carried the weight of an ending too.

Edward slipped his arm around my shoulders and drew me to him gently. “I love being here with you, Bella.”

“And I love you,” I answered, though the words caught slightly in my throat.

He watched me, quiet for a beat. “I always imagined making love to you here,” he murmured, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “For our first time.”

I shook my head. “I don’t see why we still couldn’t. But I wouldn’t change anything,” I said honestly. “Not how we ended up here. Not a second of it.”

His hand tightened slightly around me, grounding. “Are you afraid?”

I looked away for a moment, my chest tightening. “Only of not having more time. With you. With Charlie. With everything.”

The breeze stirred again, lifting my hair, carrying the scent of wildflowers. Edward turned to me, his eyes soft, glowing with the familiar burnished gold. “Do you trust me to fix this?”

I didn’t answer immediately. I just looked at him—his face, his eyes, the way he held me like he never wanted to let go.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I trust you.”

He leaned in, pressing his lips to mine—slow, reverent, like a promise whispered across the veil of waking.

***

I woke with a start, disoriented for a moment until my eyes landed on the clock. 6:45 a.m. Time to get moving.

The room was quiet. Edward wasn’t beside me.

I sat up and stretched, trying to shake off the pull of sleep. A small smile tugged at my lips as the memory of the night before settled over me—gentle, grounding. I refused to let the weight of my dream sink in. Not yet. Whether it meant something or not, I wasn’t ready to unpack it.

I lingered too long in the shower, letting the hot water work through the ache in my muscles. When I stepped back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel, Edward was sitting on the edge of the bed. He turned his head quickly when I closed the door behind me.

I gasped and tightened the towel around me. “Seriously?”

He chuckled, but there was a thread of restraint in his voice. “You’ll never make it to school if I don’t keep my eyes off you while you dress.”

I rolled my eyes but didn’t argue. “Is school really necessary today?”

His jaw tightened slightly, though he still didn’t look at me. “It’s better to keep up appearances. If you suddenly stop showing up, Charlie will hear about it. And we both know you don’t want him in the middle of this.”

He was right, as usual. “Okay. I’m dressed, by the way.”

He turned back to me and smiled—crooked, perfect, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I was wondering,” he said, holding up the plane vouchers Carlisle and Esme had given me for my birthday, “how you’d feel about going to Jacksonville.”

I blinked. “Renee’s in Phoenix.”

“They’ve probably headed back for spring training by now. And the vouchers are going to expire.” His tone was careful, but I could see the intent behind it. “I thought we could go visit. One last time.”

My breath caught. I’d been thinking the same thing only hours ago. “When?”

“Next weekend. Friday, if that’s okay. I have a few things to settle before we leave. And I want to give your mom a heads-up.”

I nodded slowly. It was exactly what I wanted—but the fact that I wanted it made the reality of everything feel sharper. “She should be up. I’ll call her now.”

I reached for Edward’s phone and dialed.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Mom,” I said, summoning as much enthusiasm as I could manage.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing calling so early?”

“Just wondering… are you back in Jacksonville yet?”

“Yeah, we came home right after we left Forks. How are you?”

“I’m great,” I lied smoothly. “Listen, I got two plane tickets for my birthday—to Jacksonville. How would you feel about a visit?”

“Baby, that would be amazing!”

I took a breath. “There’s just one thing… Edward’s coming with me.”

I winced and handed him the phone before I could hear her reaction. He took it without hesitation, calm and unreadable.

Before I could brace myself, Alice swooped into the room and threw me over her shoulder.

“Alice, what the hell—?”

“Sorry, Bella. Edward needs a moment to talk to your mom in private. Besides, you need breakfast.”

She plopped me down on a stool at the kitchen island and pulled out a small army’s worth of leftovers from the fridge. I didn’t even try to resist. Hunger won. A few bites in, Edward appeared beside me, still wearing that maddeningly smug expression.

I narrowed my eyes. “What was that about?”

“Not telling,” he said smoothly.

Alice squealed and whisked my plate away, grabbing my hand. “Time to go. We’re going to be late.”

On the way to the garage, I glanced back at Edward. He still wore that smile.

“Seriously, you two—why do you do this to me?”

“We don’t just do it to you,” Alice called over her shoulder. “We do it to everyone.”

“So no one’s going to tell me what’s going on?”

“Nope,” they said in unison.

I sighed and sank into the passenger seat of the Volvo as we pulled away from the house, already feeling the day unravel.

The school day crawled by in its usual, uninspired rhythm. I kept waiting for my nerves to kick in again—waiting to feel the full weight of what was ahead—but instead I found myself slipping back into the dull routine of classrooms and passing bells, the hum of normal life pressing in like fog.

Maybe it was the quiet before the storm. Or maybe I was just tired.

Edward walked me to class as always, his hand never straying far from mine. He kissed me softly when the lunch bell rang and promised he’d be back to pick me up after my evening classes. Another night of training for him—another night of pretending for me.

At nine-thirty sharp, I stepped outside into the cool air. Edward stood by the Volvo, backlit by the overhead lights of the school. His smile was too pleased to be casual.

“What’s with the grin?” I asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.

He shook his head. “I talked to your mom again this afternoon.”

I groaned. “I really hate being kept out of the loop.”

He laughed but didn’t offer more, and I didn’t press. I’d learned by now that if Edward wanted something to be a surprise, he was maddeningly good at keeping it that way.

When we got back to the house, it was quiet—again. I didn’t expect anything else. These days, the Cullen house felt more like a war camp than a home.

A warm plate was waiting on the dining room table. Eggplant parmigiano, from the look and smell of it—one of Esme’s specialties. I sat down and started on my homework, grateful for the small comfort. Working one-handed was slow and awkward, but it distracted me just enough to keep from spiraling.

After dinner, Edward took the plate and disappeared into the kitchen. I lingered over my essays until the words started blurring together. At some point, I dragged myself upstairs and collapsed into bed.

He joined me after I was already drifting, curling around me in the dark, his arms a quiet promise.

***

I was in the meadow again—but it wasn’t right.

The grass was too still. The wildflowers, too vivid. The air, though warm, felt hollow, as if sound had been sucked from the space between the trees. There was no breeze. No birdsong. Just silence.

Across the clearing stood Edward, his figure half-shadowed under the canopy. He wasn’t moving. Just watching.

I stepped forward, the ground unnaturally soft under my feet. With each step I took, the light around me dimmed. Clouds rolled in from nowhere, casting long, crawling shadows across the meadow. My heart thudded painfully. Still, Edward didn’t move.

“Edward?” My voice echoed—too loud, too alone.

He was suddenly in front of me, fast as always, but something about him felt… off. His hands closed gently around my arms, and I melted into him, trying to push away the sense of dread building in my chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair. His voice wasn’t soothing this time. It was final.

I leaned back to look at him. His eyes were black, flat and distant—no warmth, no gold. I staggered a step away, but he held me fast.

“What’s going on?” My voice was shaking now. “What’s happening?”

From behind him, shadows began to bleed out of the forest. Cloaks—gray, then black. The Volturi, emerging soundlessly, their faces hidden. One by one, they lined the edge of the clearing like specters.

Panic surged up my throat.

“Edward.” I clutched his shirt, but he didn’t look at me. His gaze was fixed on the ground, as though he couldn’t bring himself to meet my eyes.

“I don’t want this,” I whispered.

His arms tightened around me, and when he finally looked at me again, there was something broken behind the black. Regret. Grief.

And resolve.

“Forgive me,” he said, barely audible. Then his mouth found the curve of my neck. Cold breath, colder skin.

And pain.

I cried out as I felt his teeth break through, the sting like fire flooding my veins. I tried to push him away, but his grip held. Not violent—but inevitable. A decision already made.

The cloaked figures stepped forward.

I screamed.

***

I woke with a start, breath catching in my throat. My heart pounded in my chest—too fast, too loud. It took a few seconds before I registered the arms around me. Cool. Steady. Familiar.

“Good morning,” Edward whispered, his voice careful.

I turned slowly, pressing my cheek to his chest, needing the anchor. “Morning,” I mumbled, my voice rough with sleep—and something else.

His fingers traced along my shoulder. “Bad dream?”

I hesitated. “It was… intense.” I didn’t elaborate. I wasn’t ready to say it aloud. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty on the dot,” he said, brushing a kiss against my ear, though his tone was subdued. He was watching me too closely—like he already knew I wasn’t okay.

I sat up slowly, running a hand through my hair. “I guess I’d better get ready.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’s the weekend. And… graduation doesn’t matter anymore.” The way he said it, full of weight and sadness, made my chest tighten.

I looked at him, unsure what to say. “Edward—”

He cut me off gently. “Get ready. I’ll drive you.”

In the shower, I tried to rinse the unease away, but the image of the cloaked figures wouldn’t leave me. Or the cold press of his lips. The bite. The apology.

The car ride was silent. I could feel him watching me from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t speak, and I didn’t press him. We both knew something was shifting, even if neither of us wanted to give it voice yet.

As we pulled into the mostly empty lot, he killed the engine and turned to me.

“If you want to come home early, just call. I’ll be here.”

He leaned in to kiss me, lingering just a second longer than usual. When he pulled back, he slipped a folded piece of paper into my palm. I held it tightly as I climbed out of the car, glancing back at him before closing the door. He didn’t pull away until I turned toward the building.

I opened the note as I reached the sidewalk. Three simple lines:

Be safe.

I love you.

Call me.

Below it, his number—like I didn’t already know it by heart.

My throat tightened. There was nothing grand about it. No flourish. No speech. Just quiet, steady love. The kind you didn’t question.

I pressed the note to my chest for a moment, then slipped it into my pocket and kept walking.