"Edward, will you come with me to the store?" It's my mom's soft, lilting voice trying to coax me out of bed. She does this a lot. Attempts to drag me out of whatever depressive state I'm in for small mundane tasks. I'll go. Of course I'll go. But it's to placate her. Not for myself. I never do anything good for myself. I've realized that over the years.

I never thought that I would be twenty nine and living in my parents house, equipped with a Doctorates and a residency under my belt, but here I was. Miserably depressed, sleeping until noon in my childhood bedroom while glaringly unemployed.

I knew I was the only one to blame for my sudden downfall. I hadn't handled my breakup with Tanya well. It wasn't even that I cared about staying with her - I didn't know if I even still loved her - but hearing someone you had been with for years tell you that she'd fallen in love with someone else is still a pretty big blow to the ego. And apparently mine was so fragile that it intensely shattered, leaving me a drunken mess on the floor of the fancy townhouse her dad bought for us.

In the following months after Tanya's confession, I trudged along and finished my residency, but ultimately hadn't made any decisions on where I wanted to be. All I knew was that I had to get the hell out of Chicago. So I did, promptly moving back home to Forks to let my mom coddle me while I overslept and moped over the maybe-love lost.

"Of course, mom. Give me a sec." I tell her, kicking off the covers. I allow myself a moment to prep myself for leaving my room, before I finally head into the bathroom. I scrub my face and try to ignore the way my hair is so long it's curling (I couldn't remember the last time I had it cut) and how what was once a five-o-clock shadow is now a beard. When I'm finally dressed, I head to the car where my mom is waiting and take my spot in the driver's seat.

I feel bad for ignoring her while she's chattering away the entire drive, but my brain seems to lack the mental capacity to do much these days, and sometimes that includes listening to my mother's chatter about dinner and gardening and brunch dates.

It's a typically cold and rainy day in Forks. The town feels almost unbearably sleepy after so many years in Chicago, but perhaps I need it. To just drown in moss and rainwater. Let it drug me and slow me down. Even if it's not what I need, it's what I've done.

In the store, my mother begins to direct me around, telling me what she needs, and sending me off for things. It's as I'm walking into the produce section for some potatoes that I see something that completely distracts me.

Even in a white turtleneck sweater dress I can make out her slim, curvy form, so grown up compared to how lanky she was in her teens. Her long legs are coated in sheer black tights and the sexiest pair of latex black ankle boots reside on her feet. What really captured my attention, however, was the long brunette hair cascading down her back. It was different than when I last saw her in person. Now, she had fringe and honey blonde strands blended in at her ends, but it was still as gorgeous as I remembered. I wonder if it felt the same…

Apparently I stood there staring for too long, because all of a sudden my mother is next to me, and she's noticed what I'm staring at.

"Oh, Bella! I didn't know you were in town!" Her voice is slightly admonishing, and I wonder if she's stayed in contact with Bella. I find myself getting angry at the thought of her keeping that from me for all of these years.

Bella spins around, romaine hearts in hand, and looks sheepishly at Esme. Her eyes flicker to me, but she quickly moves her gaze back to the woman next to me. Instead of getting offended, I take the time to observe the features of her face. Fuck, did time do her well.

Her eyes, which had always been big, look dark and sultry underneath the fringe covering her forehead, and her skin looks clear and dewy. Her lips are pursed, drawing my eyes down to her full upper lip, which is slightly bigger than her bottom lip.

"I'm sorry, Esme, I've been so busy! I'm here for the wedding this weekend." Her voice is still as soft spoken as ever, and the husky tones give me goosebumps. It had been so long since I had thought of her, even longer since I had spoken to her. I wonder why she still affected me now, ten years after our disastrous breakup.

Finally realizing what she just said, I tense. She couldn't be… could she?

Okay, I lied when I said I hadn't thought of her in a long time. Often, I find myself checking on how she's doing, but that's only because I can simply rely on the internet to do so.

After graduating high school, Bella moved on to go to UCLA to study English. It was during her first year there, however, that her manuscript was picked up by a publishing house, and her first book ever, a thriller about a string of murders in a sleepy pacific northwestern town, was published. The book did exceptionally well, making all kinds of "Best Seller" lists. It took only two two years for it to be turned into a movie, with star names on the roster, and her popularity was cemented. And while she had some other novels under her belt since then, her next claim to fame was her poetry book, which included poems and prose spanning her adolescence, all the way into her adulthood. The Los Angeles Review of Books called it "a devastatingly honest portrayal of growing up" and the New York Times called Bella "a genius at crafting her words so articulately, you struggle to remember that the heartbreaks are not your own".

I never read her books. Any of them. But especially not her poetry one.

By doing these spontaneous google searches for "Isabella Swan", I also discovered that she was now dating a musician named Jasper Whitlock, some Texan that got popular by sounding like any other Seattle indie-rock band. According to an interview with Whitlock in Rolling Stone, they met while she was doing a reading in LA. He was at a bookstore, and happened to hear her voice while she was reading from her book of poems. For him, it was love at first sight, an immediate infatuation. As soon as she finished the reading, he approached her and asked her to marry him. When she turned him down, he instead asked her to coffee. And thus, their cringe-worthy love story was born. She was cited as the muse for his most recent album by many publications. I refused to listen to it, which was unfortunate. I was a fan of his before he proposed to the girl I lost my virginity to.

Esme saves me from my internal monologue and personal torture of thinking that it's Bella getting married by saying, "Oh yes, we're so happy for Charlie and Sue. Carlisle and I are looking forward to the wedding. I'm sure it'll be beautiful."

I wonder if they can see me sigh in relief. I'm not quite sure why I feel this way. It shouldn't matter to me, especially as I'm moping about my break-up with Tanya. Perhaps there's a part of me that's still in love with Bella, that might always be. Not only was she my first love, she was the first person whose heart I broke, and in the process broke my own.

I was dumb back then. I still am.

She and Esme are talking and then they're making brunch plans for the following day while I just stare. I realize I haven't said anything to her until she's saying goodbye and starting to turn away, so I finally find my voice and say, "Bye Bella." I cringe at how hoarse I sound.

She looks back at me, and smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping before she responds with a simple "bye," and leaves me standing here, staring and looking like a complete idiot. My mom seems to sense my state of emotional turmoil, so she simply lead me away, ushering me to the checkout line and out of the store. It's not until we're nearly home that I unthaw, looking over at my mother as she drives us home.

"You kept in touch with her?" My words come out harsh, and I don't intend for them to be. She simply smiles.

"Yes, of course. You know she was like a second daughter to us. Plus, her and Alice are still friends. Of course we still talk to Bella." I cringe at her name, and then rage at the sudden disclosure regarding my sister.

"Wait, her and Alice are friends? Since when?" Even when we were dating in high school, Bella and Alice weren't all that close, simply acquaintances with one thing in common - me. Now to hear that they are friends, even ten years later, shocked me.

"Since senior year of high school I think? I'm not sure it's any of your business anyway." She informs me pointedly. It takes me a second to register what she just said.

"Mom, you know I-"

"I really don't want to hear it, Edward." She scolds gently. "That girl is finally happy. The least you could do is leave her alone."

And she's right. It really is the least I could do. But instead, I dream of moss and rainwater and brown hair and poems, and wonder what could have been.

A/N: This is just a small bit of a story that's been starting to form in my mind. I'm really just messing around with it, so we'll see! For those who are followers of my story The Wife, I apologize for delays on the next chapter. I'm aiming to have one uploaded some time in the next week. I promised I will finish it, and I will! xx