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The Falling

In the action itself, she is weightless and free. The flight is not to be feared, only the impact. A story on the life of Esme Cullen. Image Hosted by ImageShack.us Banner By incredible Iris!

I may submit this to the official site. What do you think?

52. Chapter 52

Rating 5/5   Word Count 528   Review this Chapter


I put away his shirts, neatly, of course, in his closet. Ours, really. Unlike the people of my parents’ age, there is only one bedroom in our house, and we share it.

This is precisely the way it should be. Our lives touch only sometimes, not as much as either of us would prefer, but we live equally at least in each other’s eyes. And he is all that matters to me in the end.

I smile wistfully. He’ll be home in three or four hours, no more, and I can’t wait. I should start on his dinner. I always look forward to this part of the day. Not only do I enjoy cooking, it means he shall be home soon. Every action brings the time that will bring him just a little closer.

Every little bit counts, as my mother would say.

I hunt around the pantry and icebox, trying to decide what to cook. I settle on my husband’s favorite. It’s the least I can do after the pancakes this morning.

I try to keep us about even, though he insists counting favors is stupid amongst friends. I always reply by reminding him we aren’t friends, we’re husband and wife. It’s important to remain on equal footing.

His only answer is a sigh and a thanks for the meal. It’s funny, how I know exactly what he’ll do and say, how I interact with him even while he’s away all day, and yet I still pray for his fast return.

I love him so much. It’s incredible. The idea makes me want to sing, that we’re married, that we’ll be together forever. As I chop the broccoli, I look at my left hand and see the plain golden band there. I remember perfectly the day he gave it to me.

“My beautiful, beloved Esme… you are truly the only one I will ever love. You reinforce the reality of my soul. If I am a man of God, as I try to be, then you are the angel he has sent to guide me in His works. Please, my love, say you will marry me.”

Of course I accepted him. With such an oath of devotion, who could resist? With such a man, who could hold back?

Certainly not I. After all, it wasn’t just that he was sweet and beautiful and kind and compassionate- I loved him. Sometimes I thought that emotion was entirely independent of all his virtues, that I loved him not because of who he was, but because of something deeper, some meant-to-be that neither of us could understand. We were entertwined eternally. All the bright things he boasted were just bonuses.

How lucky was I, then, that the one man I was meant to be with was the perfect one? I would love him no matter what- but everything he did just reinforced that I had done the right thing when I fell madly and irrevocably for him.

I never wanted to stop falling in love with my husband.

Lose yourself into the tumble