Dance

I was fairly confident that he wasn't coming back to me. The tears still fell like the rain around here; the rain I had come to love, because of him. My future was cold and concrete in front of disbelieving eyes. I was destined to marry Jacob (something I'm sure he wouldn't object to), have a mundane, normal life and die of old age in my sleep.

I sat at my desk, eyes looking but not quite seeing. Was there anything I could do, anything at all, to escape from a life that sounded more like a prison? Some small bit of hope that I might latch onto?

The pens in that old blue mug, a mug he'd gotten me all those months ago, called out to me. Write, Bella. Write it out, for him. So that he might understand whenever he comes back to Forks, they called.

So I did. It took a lot of effort not to go back to the fetal position and crying for eternity, but I made it through, somehow.

Dearest Edward, the letter read.

I know finally that there's only the slimmest chance that you will come back into my waiting arms. Although it hurts, hurts with such an intense pain that sometimes I think I might just explode, it's the truth. Much as I might want to find some way around it, track you down and cover you with kisses and bruises, I can't.

So…this note. Or letter. Whatever you want to call it.

I know you're going to come back to Forks eventually. I also know that you send someone up to check on me at least every other week. (Emmett's not too good about staying out of my sight. We had "dinner" together last time you sent him.) You still care. Don't try to deny it, Edward. We both know it's the truth.

Because of that, there are some simple things I want you to do. First off, if you're reading this I'm either A) dead or B) in your arms again and you found this on accident. So, if it's the first one, then don't grieve, my angel.

Through tears that won't fall for you, know that I'm watching over you. A guardian angel of sorts. And a good one at that, since I won't be letting you join me any time soon – whether by your own hand or someone else's. Object as I'm sure you will, but you deserve to be happy.

My conditions to letting you join me (eventually)…? Simple.

Be happy. Find love, or let go of losing me.

Dance at my funeral. Dance as though it's our wedding night; the one night we never got to share.

Let Alice, Rose…heck, everyone…take anything of mine. And show this part to Charlie and Renee so they know it's my wish.

Try. Try to live, my marble god, though you may say it's impossible without me. Try, for me.

I will love you eternally, whether I be on Heaven or Earth. I'm confident you will join me one day, and we'll be free of all the things that made our love impossible.

Love,

Bella

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We were sweeping through my old room at Charlie's when he found it. Reneesme, Edward, Jacob and I, just making sure we had everything from our lives in Forks. What with Charlie gone and all, and the house going to me, we knew we'd be able to come back sooner or later.

The loose floorboard, next to the one containing the CD with my lullaby in it ironically enough, had gotten looser since the fateful day I wrote the letter.

"Bella?" Edward questioned as I knelt over a box full of old journals. "What is this?"

I looked up to see the folded sheet of stationary in his up-turned palm. Quickly, but not quickly enough, I tried to snatch it out of his hand. "Nothing! Here, give it to me, I'll throw it away!"

He chuckled, causing Reneesme to look up from where she sat with Jacob at my windowsill. "Bella, love, I've already read it."

I blushed, a trait I still retained even though I was a vampire. "I don't mean it, now."

"You do. Except the marrying Jake part, you still mean every word of it."

All I could do was nod mutely as he swept me into those arms that I had pictured so much while writing that stupid letter. "I love you eternally, Edward Anthony Mason Cullen."

"And I you, Isabella Marie Swan Cullen."