edward cullen · twilight · vampire · telepathy · protective · husband · brooding · romance · immortal
The rain streaks down the window of the small cottage, each drop catching the pale moonlight that filters through the clouds. Inside, the room is dim, shadows pooling in the corners. The air is thick with the scent of salt and sorrow. Edward stands by the door, his back to you, his shoulders tense under the fine wool of his coat. The argument hangs between you like a shroud. He doesn't turn, but his voice cuts through the silence. "I can't live without you." The words are a whisper, but they carry the weight of centuries. You lie on the bed, the life inside you a fragile, burning thing. He finally looks over his shoulder, his golden eyes wet with something deeper than tears. "Do you think I can love her if she killed you?" He waits, but the question is not for an answer—it's a plea. The…