A/N: I heard this song sung by Josh Groban back in May at his concert. While his beautiful voice filled the arena, this story filled my head. I hope you enjoy it, given the content.

"Broken Vow"

Tell me his name
I want to know
The way he looks
And where you go
I need to see his face
I need to understand
Why you and I came to an end

Tell me again
I want to hear
Who broke my faith in all these years
Who lays with you at night
While I'm here all alone
Remembering when I was your own

[Chorus:]
I let you go
I let you fly
Why do I keep on asking why
I let you go
Now that I found
A way to keep somehow
More than a broken vow

Tell me the words I never said
Show me the tears you never shed
Give me the touch
That one you promised to be mine
Or has it vanished for all time

[Chorus:]

I let you go
I let you fly
Why do I keep on asking why
I let you go
Now that I found
A way to keep somehow
More than a broken vow

I close my eyes
And dream of you and I
And then I realize
There's more to love than only bitterness and lies
I close my eyes

I'd give away my soul
To hold you once again
And never let this promise end

[Modified Chorus:]
I let you go
I let you fly
Now that I know I'm asking why
I let you go
Now that I found
A way to keep somehow
More than a broken vow

-Sung by Josh Groban, lyrics by Lara Fabian & Walter Afanasieff. Link to a version of the song here: ..com/watch?v=cZaKZRWHfZU.

I placed the box on the coffee table before going to the kitchen. I needed a stiff drink to get through the task at hand. This was hard, very hard for me. I knew I wouldn't be able to endure without scotch.

As I poured it in the tumbler, I forced myself to think of other things. So much of my time had been dedicated to this already; I just wanted a moment of reprieve. I took a sip and allowed the liquid to coat my throat as the burn made its way down. It felt good, so good and I finished the glass before refilling it.

Who cares if I get drunk? I'm not going anywhere.

Grabbing the bottle, I headed back into the living room. The box was still there, the lid slightly off. I sighed loudly as I sat down on the couch. This was it; the moment I was dreading. The moment I said goodbye.

Five years down the drain.

I took the lid off and began sifting through the contents. I found tokens of our time together. The stub to our first movie. A pen she took from the first overnight stay at a hotel. A plane ticket to Belize where I proposed to her. Our wedding invitation. Pictures with friends and family. All of them to be thrown into the awaiting fire.

Then I saw something I had never seen before. It was a phone number to him. The one who ruined my marriage.

It takes two people to make a fight.

"Yeah," I said to myself. "Bella and that asshole."

I sat back on the couch and let the memories flood into my head. I recounted the first time I saw her with him, the first time I saw him lean in and kiss her. I was so shocked that it didn't register. I wondered what was going on.

"I, Isabella Marie Swan, take thee, Edward Anthony Cullen, to be my lawful husband."

This has been replaying in my head since I found out about the affair. I remember the night I confronted her. She showed no emotion, no tears. Just answered "yes" when I asked her point-blank. I was done with games. And she was done with me.

She then went on to tell me the affair lasted longer than the marriage.

I never felt so foolish in my life.

I let you go, I let you fly. Why do I keep on asking why?

I took another sip of scotch and closed my eyes. I would give away my soul to feel her in my arms again, breathe in her strawberry scent and kiss those plump lips. Hear her laugh and feel her arms wrap around my neck. Listening to her whisper things in my ear; things she wanted to do to me when we were alone. I would never let her go, never let the moment end.

I wonder if he is with her now. Sleeping in the same bed as her at night, while I am alone with my misery?

I wanted to know his name. She never told me, afraid of what I would do. She just referred to him as "Q."

Who the hell names their child with a Q? What names begin with Q? Quentin, Quint….

That was all I had.

She did tell me that he lived on the reservation and they had been friends since childhood. She accompanied him to prom, though he was not her date for hers, and they kept in touch when they went off to college. She never told me about him when I began seeing her. She kept him locked away where only she could know him.

I need to see his face; I need to understand why we came to an end.

Running my hands through my hair, I stood up, placing all mementos back in the box and tossing it in the fire. I watched it burn completely, letting only the ash remain. I felt justified, but I still didn't feel better. Perhaps I never will.

Turning around, I surveyed the room. There were still traces of her around, but mainly she was gone. I let her go, I let her fly. I knew she wasn't one to be tied down and who was I to stop her?

Why do I keep on asking why?

I took a deep breath and noticed that her scent no longer filled the room. It had taken awhile for me to get it out; it was everywhere. Most prevalent on the couch. Makes sense since we spent many nights there, watching movies, talking, playing games and making love. I opened every window in the house to air it out after she left. I couldn't stand her scent being around. All it did was make me wonder if it drove him as crazy as it did me.

"Yes, Edward. I have been having an affair. There. Is THAT what you wanted? I didn't want to hurt you like this. Why did you have to be so intrusive? I married you, but I didn't agree to everything in the vows. Remember I left out 'obey?' You HAD to know there was a reason for that. You are a smart man."

Shaking my head, I walked around the room. The table against the wall nearest the couch was empty of the photos that once sat there. They were pictures of vacations we took with our friends. My favorite one was the one of her surrounded by all of them on our trip to Aspen. She had a huge grin on her face and looked at me with love and devotion in that picture. Eyes are the window to the soul; how could she make the eyes lie?

"Five years of a lie," I muttered to myself. Running a hand through my hair again, I approached the coffee table and took another swig of scotch. I was feeling numb now and that was how I preferred it. I knew I would eventually have to deal with my emotions and get over the betrayal, but until then I was content to drown my sorrows in alcohol.

There were words I never said to her, words I wanted to say but didn't. I had considered giving her another chance, but she said she wanted out. As I said, who was I to stop her?

There were tears she never shed. I wanted to see some sorrow, some remorse for the love that was destroyed, for a marriage that had ended. There was none of that. She remained stoic with me, her face a mask. She admitted to the affair but never even said "I'm sorry." Had she shed one tear, I probably would have forgiven her and moved on. Her lack of empathy was the answer I needed. The final nail in the coffin and the official end of the marriage.

Why do I keep on asking why?

I shouldn't. I know why. I wasn't the man for her. She was selfish and needed someone who put her first. I tried, God how I tried, but my job is very stressful and it took time away from her. I shouldn't blame her for finding herself in his arms.

Don't forget, she was with him while you were in college. You are not to blame here.

I sighed and sat down again. I knew that, but it felt like I should be. Perhaps if I had paid more attention to her, she would have let him go when we began dating. She would have seen me for the man I was; one that would do anything for her and she would have been faithful.

She broke my faith in all those years. And I can never get them back.

Tears slowly began to fall as I sat on the couch. I knew it wasn't manly, but I was beyond caring. I had been through so much in such a short amount of time that I had to break down sometimes. It kept me sane.

I closed my eyes and dream of the two of us on our wedding day. I could feel myself getting upset again. My hands starting balling into fists and I let out a wail to stop the pain.

There's more to love than bitterness and lies.

That was true, though it didn't feel like it. I decided to reflect on the good times. Our first Christmas was great. I got up extra early so I could watch her eyes when she saw the tree all lit up. She was like a child on Christmas; absolutely loved the holiday. She smiled widely when she saw our tree twinkling with hundreds of bright lights.

Her eyes shone as big as the lights as I held out a box to her. Like a child, she snatched it from me and darted to the couch, making me laugh. I watched her slowly peel the wrapping off and open the box. After a beat, she squealed.

"Thank you so much!" she exclaimed as she threw her arms around me. I had gotten her the Cameo she had wanted. It was made of genuine ivory and cost a pretty penny. But it was worth it to see the joy on her face. She was worth it.

Ironically enough, she was wearing the Cameo the night our marriage ended. Guess that was an omen.

I smiled. I had a good memory, one that was not filled with bitterness and lies. I knew that most of our memories were now tainted, but that one was not. I refused to lose that one.

I let you go, I let you fly.

Why do I keep on asking why?

Because I'm a masochist.

It's been four months and I feel the need for pain. I guess that's good; it means I'm still alive. When I become numb inside, then I'll start to worry.

"You will love again," she told me as she headed to the door, carrying a bag of clothes. There was a tone to her voice. She was being snide and snarky. I had just had my heart ripped out of my chest and she was being cruel. I should have seen this side of her long ago.

"Get over it, Edward. I have."

I leaned forward and placed my head in my hands.

"I, Isabella Marie Swan, take thee, Edward Anthony Cullen, to be my lawful husband."

The vows repeated over and over in my head like a broken record. I wanted peace. I wanted it to be over.

I remembered the way she touched me that day, the day of our wedding. Softly, gently. Where she promised to be mine.

Has it vanished for all time?

I wondered just how many times this has happened, how many times vows were broken due to infidelity. It seems so odd to say that, "broken vow." However, that's what it was. We stood before our family and friends and vowed to love each other until death. But most importantly, we made that vow before God Himself. Does He judge broken vows harder than others? Or is everyone treated equally?

Why am I even worrying about this? I wasn't the one who cheated.

Now that I know, I'm asking why.

Lifting my head up, I reached for my scotch and downed it again. I needed to do this. I was conducting an exorcism, so to speak. I was freeing myself from her. From the lies.

I smiled as the liquid slowly warmed me from the inside again. I stood up slowly and walked again to the fire. Picking up the poker, I began moving the ash around, hoping the rest of it would burn. These were insignificant; I didn't need them. I had memories, good and bad.

I know I will always be grateful that I shared in a marriage with a woman as fascinating as she. Bella was beautiful and generous and kind (for the most part). She made me laugh and genuinely believed in me. She encouraged me to work harder and promote myself so I could have the corner office by the time I was thirty. It was her encouragement that got me where I am today.

Come to think of it, that encouragement was probably what she needed to get you out of the house and make the affair easier.

I shook my head and watched the fire. I felt a sense of peace wash over me. Finally. I realized what was happening. I really was letting her go, in every aspect of the word. While I let her walk out that door four months ago, I tried to hold on to her and what we had. I didn't want to let go. I wanted to keep everything the way it was, me loving her and her unhappy and having an affair.

But now, watching everything burn and feeling peace, I know that things were getting better. I would be okay. There will always be a scar, but I will heal and move on. Bella was right; I will find love again someday. Bella will always be my first love, but the new woman will be my last.

The fire warmed my skin and increased the peace that I was experiencing. I never wanted it to end. I knew it would soon. I had to go to court and fight for what was mine while she fought for what was hers. That wouldn't be peaceful. I had to pay thousands in lawyer fees; that wasn't peaceful. I will always have the memories of us until the day I die. Some bring peace, some do not. None of that matters at this moment, though. For now, I am at peace. I know that everything will be okay.

I found a way to keep more than just a broken vow.

A/N: Thanks for reading!