I don't remember when it happened exactly.

I don't remember the exact moment where my relationship strayed or when he stopped loving me the way he used to.

Because boy did he used to… Other people used to laugh and say we were the corniest couple to walk the earth, that we "disgusted them" with our never-ending kisses and our inappropriate hand-holding. With our long, quiet phone calls, and with our inability to be apart for longer than a couple of hours.

We were so in love, so young and naïve and so consumed by what we felt that we didn't have the time to think about anything else.

I think he had loved me more than he had loved anything else, more than he even loved himself. His eyes lit up whenever I came near him, and his arms trembled with the need to hold me. His voice soothed every being of my soul and his heart thundered beneath his chest whenever we would touch. He loved me. He did.

But that was then… and this is now.

The loneliness began to settle in about two weeks ago, because before that it was just a feeling of despair and denial. I struggled with the ability to comprehend that Edward was gone. That he had left, picked up his bags and decided that this life, our life, was no longer what he wanted, what he needed.

He left, and I… I stopped breathing.

When people used to tell me it was possible to die of heartbreak, I used to laugh. I simply could not understand how something like that could be possible. How could it be possible? To give yourself so completely to another person? To love, so purely, so unconditionally, and so irresponsibly?

But I did. With Edward I did. And when he left, I shattered.

And no one could ever pick up the pieces.

No one could fix me. I would never truly be whole again.

"So melodramatic…" I whispered to myself. As I tucked my brown curls behind my ears. My other hand continued to trace the photo on my countertop, a photo I knew too well.

A photo of a green- eyed, copper haired boy, with a smile that would make anyone envious.

"Why didn't I notice?" I whispered to myself, wondering how it was possible for me not to notice that something was wrong.

But, I think I did notice the changes, the way his eyes slowly dimmed, the way a smile no longer plagued his face, the way his hands no longer sook mine out, the way his body no longer gravitated towards mine.

I think I chose to ignore it, ignore all of the signs that were telling me that Edward was no longer happy, and that he had not been happy for a while. I thought if I ignored it, it meant that he would stay, that he would be unable to recognize that there was something else out there. Something other than this, other than us.

But he did, he realized it, and when he realized it, he left. There were no periods of fighting, no periods of trying to work it out, of trying to make him stay. He simply came home one day, told me he was unhappy, and he left. Just as fast as he had entered my life, he had also exited. And I was left spiraling, shocked, and damaged.

I stand up, put the picture down and walk over to the one piece of him that proves to me he was even real. I trace my fingers over the black shining cover, the soft white keys, and the piano seems to shriek. As if it somehow knows that I am not its rightful owner, as if it knows I'm not Edward.

I sit down on the bench, staring down at the never-ending keys. I run my fingers over them, in attempt to somehow comfort them. Understanding that they had somehow also suffered a loss. They had not been played in months, Edward had suddenly lost interest in them and they just sat there, waiting.

That should have been a big sign. A sign that something was wrong, that something had changed. Edward had always loved his piano, he loved composing and he loved playing for me. And then suddenly it stopped, he spent less time writing, spent less time playing. When I questioned him he had responded that he was "uninspired".

I did not seem to notice what that meant. He had always said I was his inspiration, so when did I stop being it? When did I become uninspiring to him?

"Bella, are you here?" A voice yells from the front of the house. I hear the footsteps approaching, but I remain seated, on the piano bench. All while knowing that Alice would so not approve of this.

"Bella?" A small form appears in the doorframe, and the look on Alice's face shifts from neutrality to pity. A sad smile forms on her face as she looks at me.

"Hey…how you holding up babe?" She questions, as she walks towards me, slowly. It's almost as if she thinks if she walks faster, she may scare me away.

"I'm getting better. Whether you see it or not Alice, I'm trying." I close the cover over the piano keys, and lay my hands on top of it. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, reminding myself that she is not trying to bother me. She just really cares about me, she's worried about me.

"I know I just worry sometimes. It's been a while since I've seen you. You don't really answer my calls…" Her voice trails off, she cocks her head to the side, and her eyes narrow. It's so slight that if I wasn't watching her intently, I wouldn't have noticed. She seems to be glancing over at me, assessing for any potential damage.

"I'm sorry. I haven't really been in the talking mood."

"I know Bella, but I worry. My mom asks about you all the time, she worries too." She moves to sit beside me and her hand rests on top to mine. She's talking about Esme, and for a brief moment I feel a pang of guilt.

Esme has always been there for me, she is the sweetest, most generous woman I have ever met, and I've been dodging her calls. The thing is, it's hard to tell someone that the reason you're dodging their calls is because of their son. It's much harder to tells someone this when their son is their whole pride and joy.

"I'm going to call her Alice… I am. I just need some time." I slowly remove my hand from her grasp, placing it on my lap. I fidget with my fingers, trying desperately to avoid her gaze.

If she looks into my eyes, she'll know.

She will see all the pain, the anguish, and the undeniable truth of this whole situation. The truth? That I am nothing without Edward. Absolutely nothing.

I feel a hand rub against my back, and as soon as her hand makes contact with my back. I can't help the sobs that escape my mouth. My entire frame shakes forcefully with the inevitable anguish that escapes me.

'III can't do this Alice, not without HIM. I don't know how to live my life without HIM." Tears fall down my eyes, and for the first time in months I stop pretending. I stop pretending that my world is somehow okay now, I stop pretending that I have slowly began to heal. I stop pretending that his face isn't what I see every time I close my eyes. And I just break down, sobbing.

"I know Bella…" She whispers as her small arms wrap around me, holding me while I just cry.

I cry until I have absolutely nothing left in me.

.

.

.

I wake exhausted. I know I must have slept for a couple of hours because it is now dark outside my window.

But it's that type of sleep, where you don't wake up feeling refreshed, you somehow awaken even more tired than before you went to sleep.

I rise from my bed, and walk over to open the door. As soon as I do I am hit with the overwhelming smell of cinnamon. I slowly begin to walk towards the smell, when a small form pops out of the kitchen.

Alice hops over to me, spoon in hand, giving me a slight smile. I try to smile back but I can only imagine how pitiful I must look.

"I hope you slept okay Bella, I'm making you coco, with cinnamon just how you like it." She chirps happily, her eyes remain focused on my face, assessing.

"Thanks Alice. And I'm sorry, about the entire crying thing I know it must have been awkward for you…" I trail off, Alice is already shaking her head back and forth in a no.

"It's not awkward for me. I'm here to talk with you about whatever you need. Even if it is about my asshole brother." Her eyes narrow as she mentions her relationship with Edward.

I look down at the floor, nodding my head slightly.

"So how is she? Esme?" I question, trying to avoid the subject of Edward.

"She's just worried Bella. She cares about you she always has, and she knows that he left. She's worried about how you're dealing with it. She asks about you all the time."

"I'll call her. Soon." I mention to her, reminding her that I do still care for Esme but that I need to take things at my own pace.

"That's all that she wants. Whenever you're ready just give her a call." She smiles at me gently, as she gently stirs the hot coco on the stove top. She gives it one last stir before picking up the pot, and pouring it into two mugs. Two "Be Merry" mugs that remind me that Christmas is right around the corner and that it's the first Christmas I'll spend without Edward in five years.

Christmas had always been a Cullen thing. They always had the most lavish parties, and the most extravagant decorations I had ever seen. They loved Christmas and I had grown to love it to, because I had done it with Edward. Where would I go? I obviously was no longer welcome at his home, and my parents lived over a five hundred miles away. I had moved to be with Edward, and I had left my family behind in the processes. I still remember my dad's disappointed look as I told him I would be leaving. He was convinced it was a mistake, he was convinced that Edward was not a man of commitment. He was right.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"Bella, have you seen my car keys? I have to go to work" Edwards voice chimes from the front of the living room. Desperation coming through the tone of his voice as he searches for his lost keys.

I laugh, knowing that if it weren't for me he would probably never find anything. Despite the fact that he insists he has a place for everything, and that he's oh so organized.

"Did you check your back pockets baby?" I call out, as I turn the corner.

He's standing there looking as gorgeous as ever, in a black suit. His piercing green eyes flickering from side to side, his stunning bronze hair perfectly groomed and slicked back. His hands move to his pockets and a smile erupts on his face. That million-dollar smile that can make any woman weak to their knees.

"What would I do without you?" He questions, as he walks over and grasps my face in his hands. He tucks a hair behind my ear before pulling me into a passionate kiss. His arms wrap around my waist, as I eagerly respond to his kiss.

And in this moment. We are happy.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was not a dramatic change, now that he's gone, I am able to see things a little better. There were small hints, small clues that were leading up to Edwards grand exit. The piano was just one of them.

He started coming home later and later, he stopped sitting down to eat dinner with me, he stopped waking me up to say goodbye. His kisses faltered, and his touches became scarce, he was slowly distancing himself from me and I had no idea. I was completely and utterly blinded by his decision to leave. It left me spiraling, gasping for air, and grasping for any part of him. Anything I could keep with me to prove that this was real, that he was real.

My feet move towards the back bedroom, where the door is shut closed, firm and final. I trace my fingers over the intricate wood work, they glide along the design before reaching the handle. They grasp at the knob, moving it slightly, back and forth, back and forth, as if they are somehow gathering momentum. The door opens slightly; I hold my breath.

My hand pushes the door open, and it's the first time in four months that I see the inside of my bedroom. Of our bedroom.

I haven't been inside this room since he left. I had shut it close with the hope that if I did, it would somehow hurt less. It didn't. Nothing could make this hurt less.

I approach the right side of the bed, his side, and sit down on the edge. My hands grip the sheets in an almost painful motion. My eyes wander to the nightstand, searching for the one picture I had of us. They widen when they notice that the frame is missing from where it had sat the last two years.

Where is it? Could it be that he took it? Why would he take it? What could this mean?

My mind races at a thousand miles a minute trying to reason as to what Edward could have possible gained from taking that photo.

If he really didn't care, why would he take it? Could it be that he wanted to be reminded of me? Could it really be that he wanted something to remember me by?

My fragile heart begins to pound, as a sense of hope arises. Maybe he missed me, maybe he did still want me. Could it be?

"I'm just not happy anymore Bella. I haven't been happy for a long time now. I'm sorry it has to be this way…" Replays in my head over and over, and suddenly I know.

I'm being stupid, there is absolutely no way in hell that Edward could possibly want anything to do with me. Not when he was able to just leave me like he did. To leave me broken, and completely devastated.

"God I'm so fucking stupid" I mutter to myself as I swipe my hand down the dresser, throwing the remainder of things sitting upon it. I hear a small clink and look down, it's a ring.

I bend down to pick it up, placing it in the palm of my hand. It's Edwards wedding ring. I can read the inscription very clearly.

Always.

I fall to the ground, clutching the ring tightly in my hand. It seems to burn but I cannot bring myself to let it go.

Always. Always. Always…

The one thing he had constantly said to me. That he would always love me. I realize how incredibly selfish it was of him to promise me something like that. Something he had absolutely no control over.

When did I stop being enough for him? When did our life stop bringing him happiness? Why did this happen to us? To me?

I've lost the love of my life and there is absolutely nothing that I can do about it. There's no rewinding the clock, no way to start over. No way to take anything back, to fix any mistakes. To glue back together the life, we had.

He doesn't love me; he's never coming back.

My hands shake, my throat closes and I realize, this is it.

This is my life now.