I sat in my studio, mourning. I was glad that Edward was with Bella; he wouldn't have to suffer. But I wished Jasper would leave. I did not want my family to suffer with me.

They know to leave me alone today. Even Carlisle just lets me be, no matter how much it hurst him that he can't comfort me.

I sat alone and stared at my paintings. Many of them were of women with their children, and they are all happy. I figured that the best I could do was to at least make them happy. No one deserves grief, except for me.

I killed my little boy. If I had done something more, anything more, I could have saved him.

But then I wouldn't have met Carlisle.

I had this argument with myself, cooped up in this room, every year.

This was the one day I let my grief overflow… I kept it securely locked away at all other times.

The beautiful wood outside the room seemed to have lost its shine. The window seemed a little less clear.

The river was murkier.

The green in the grass was diluted.

The clouds were dark and hung depressingly in the sky.

I sighed as I noticed nature's imperfections.

I loved my children now, but the little one's loss was so overwhelming; he had been mine. My flesh, my blood. Mine.

I had a hole that could not be filled. Not with all of their love put together.

I heard the Volvo's engine purr quietly as it slowed to turn into the garage.

Edward was always a little more careful when Bella was in the car. Usually, he would drive at full speed into the garage, and brake at the last moment, but today the engine was definitely softer. I was certain she was with him.

A moment later, the sound of the car door slamming partially lifted me out of my sad seclusion. I had to be careful now. Edward would hear my depression. 

One pair of footsteps clomped loudly around to the front of the house, while a quieter pair of feet followed behind. I smiled sadly. Only Bella would make such a clamor, and I doubted Edward could be so loud even if he wanted to.