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Dream's Shadow

This is my take on the over- and usually poorly- done plot. Edward leaves Bella again. She is changed and they meet again in the future. There will be a big twist! Requested by Iris. Banner by Iris!

Try it! I know stories like this usually stink, but I thought I'd give it a try. I own nothing. Stephenie Meyer owns all.

17. Chapter 17

Rating 5/5   Word Count 570   Review this Chapter

He loves me.

He has to love me.

Intellectually, it makes no sense- I am in no way worthy…

But pure intellectualism cannot hear that music. It is the sound of a broken heart, a most familiar organ to this ear, and I know it is a true pain. Edward loves me.

Perhaps he weeps for another

Perhaps there is some other reason for that cry.

But I must believe it. He left me once, for my own good. Could he not repeat the mistake? I must believe it.

I cannot live believing it other.

So I shall try to live the only way I can. I will pretend that Edward loves me, that he left me for me a second time, that it is just an escalation of his self-hatred, that he is miserable.

As much as it hurts to imagine him in pain, I must, because otherwise my own agony will become too great to bear.

I think he loves me. I have to.

And I will pretend until the end of time.

The end of time- that gives me an idea. I can wait until the world ends for his love to return. Yet I will not. I am close to him, I can see him.

I can watch him.

I know the signs of emptiness, they are so deep a part of myself.

I know what to look for. If I find it, if I can convince myself with ample evidence that the soul of his song is a true one, I shall reveal myself.

And I may still get my happily ever after.

It will be difficult. In every second I am here, watching the life I should have had go on with out me, I will be in pain. That is a part of the price.

I will have to witness him hurting and not help when I know it is within my power. That, a cost almost too great to bear.

And finally, in the end, I may reveal myself, to find he does not love me, never loved me, and they will cast me out, and I will be alone forever.

There’s always the Volturi, or I might be able to convince Irena it was I, not the wolves, responsible for Laurent’s death.

The rest of my would-be murderers are gone. I almost regret that now.

But I have to do this. I have to try. I can’t live forever wondering if there was a chance, if we could be happy.

And if he really is miserable, I must do my best to fix it. I have a duty, after all, with all the joy he’s given me.

Never mind the pain that is its cost.

There is another side to this many edged sword. I will have a delicate balance. After all, I cannot leap too soon. I must be sure, absolutely sure, and I am certain that I will want to reveal myself and declare my devotion every minute.

And yet, it will be difficult to do that at all. It makes no sense that he should love me, and I have always been a sensible person. It will take a great deal to stop my head from outweighing even my heaviest of hearts.