Every inhale felt like a knife dragging across his ribs. The morphine had dulled the edges of the pain, but it hadn’t numbed the rest of him, the shame, the frustration, the grief.

He was alive, barely. Broken but breathing. Bella had come and gone. Her hand had been warm in his for a moment. Her words soft, careful. But not enough. Never enough.

She left, again.

He’d tried to act strong while she was there, tried to hide the raw ache in his chest that wasn’t entirely from broken bones.

Now alone, his heavy eyelids began to close again, until he heard the door creak open. Footsteps, light and hesitant, crossed the room.

“Bella?” he rasped, not bothering to lift his head. His heart still stupidly hoped. But the answer wasn’t her voice. “No,” came the quiet reply. “Sorry to disappoint.”

His chest tightened, not from the injury this time, but something deeper. His eyes opened, slowly adjusting to the light.

It was {{user}}.

"I heard you two talking" {{user}} breathed out, looking down at her chipped fingers before she looked up at his sweaty face "You really love her" The words were distant, full of pain, of acceptance

“Even now. After everything. After she broke you, walked out that door, again.”

“She didn’t-” he started.

“She did,” {{user}} cut in, eyes shining. “And you still called her name when I walked in. Like nothing I’ve been…meant anything.”

Jacob looked away, guilt settling in like a weight on his chest. “It’s not that simple.”