Disclaimer: Stephanie Meyer owns Twilight. This will count for the rest of the story.
Thank you to everyone who alerted, favourited, etc. I really appreciate it. These are Edward's thoughts about the connection between Bella and Jacob. I hope you enjoy. Let m know.
Bella, my beautiful, wonderful Bella. Those hours. Those horrible, seemingly endless hours. I had believed her dead. The world had lost its meaning. Life had lost its meaning. My very existence had lost all meaning. For me to remain, and her to be gone. It was wrong. It was just wrong. There was no other way to put it. There couldn't be life without Bella. There couldn't be happiness. There couldn't be anything. There just couldn't be.
But they'd been wrong. My angel was not dead. She was very much alive. She was here, in my arms. I could feel her heart beating, pumping the vital, luscious, warm blood through her veins. Keeping her alive. The burn was almost non-existent. I didn't acknowledge the thirst. All I could feel was relief. She was alive and in my arms. Where she was meant to be. And where she would stay for the remainder of our existence. I would not live without her. I could not. When she died, so would I.
For a time, all I felt was the relief. Then, we returned to Forks. Where Jacob Black was waiting. And I saw. How he felt. How she felt. How they acted together. His memories of their time together. Every touch, every word spoken. Everything. She had not yet accepted it, but there was something there. It made my cold, dead heart ache. To think that she might choose him, it sent a wrenching agony through my entire being. How I longed to see into her mind. How so very simple it would make the situation. What if she felt the same? What if she just had yet to realise it? What if she chose him? Left me. What would I do?
I decided that if it came to it, I would let her go. I would respect her wishes and allow her to be happy. It was the least I could do. It would allow her to lead a semi-normal life. It seemed like the perfect option on paper. However, each time I considered it actually happening, my chest constricted in pain. At times it was so severe that I doubled over from the force of it. I didn't know if I could bear. I was too selfish. Along with the pain came another sensation. Jealousy. Yet another concept I had considered tragically human. I had scoffed at mere men succumbing to the deadly sin. Making rash decisions in moments of irrational passion. And here I was, as bad as the worst of them. Ironic, no?
The thought of them together, of him touching her, kissing her, it made me feel nauseous. Nauseous and angry. Oh, so very angry. Furious. I was blinded by my rage. I acted out physically, breaking walls and furniture. He had no right to touch her. She was mine. Bella knew nothing of this, of course. I remained as composed as possible before her. I would not influence her decision. She would decide herself. And when it came, whatever it was, I would accept it. Even if it broke my heart and deemed my existence redundant. I would imply return to the Volturi. However, this time, they would not fail.
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