DISCLAIMER: The story doesn't belong to me; the characters are property of S. Meyer and the plot belongs to DannySK. Thank you so much for letting me share your story in English!

Gracias Danny, por darme esta oportunidad!

Life is made up of choices, but what happens if yours led you where you don't want to be? Can it still be possible to fix a life marked by misunderstandings?

Edward searched through his pockets with great difficulty for the house keys. Shit.

The jingling sound of it finally told him where they were. Staggering, he pulled out that heart-shaped thing his wife had given him and stared just for a moment at the picture on the keyring in the centre: the one of his family, all three of them smiling. Snorting, he pushed the key through the lock and then wobbled in, the wooden floor creaking as soon as he set foot inside the room, and as if he had a switch under the soles of his shoes, the light came on, causing him to close his eyes tightly.

Hell, it was so blinding that it threatened to pierce his eyelids.

"Again you're late and drunk". The soft voice sounded tired.

Edward blinked several times until his eyes became accustomed to the light. The room was spacious, in neutral tones, a small glass table in the middle of the black leather armchairs and a large screen next to the gleaming black piano. Isabella was standing there, just to one side of the piano. Her tiny T-shirt showed too much skin as she wore nothing underneath. Her hair was dishevelled, her eyes red from, what he assumed was, crying.

"I've told you not to wait for me, you don't have to do it" He snorted, slurring the words

"You know very well that..." she looked away, "I can't sleep if you're not there, what if some delinquent comes in? " She whispered, wringing her hands in her usual nervous gesture.

And there was nothing he hated more than that reproach, why didn't she just go to sleep, as so many women did? Why the fuck did she have to wait for him, always? Bella should be able to go to sleep on her own and not be fucking him about coming home late and drunk. Furious and tired, he fixed his intense eyes on her, wanting to pierce her... when in reality he wanted to run into her and take her against the wall. Who the fuck was he kidding?

Even over the years, he had never found a more beautiful woman than her. At first, he thought he only wanted her in a carnal way, he repeated to himself a thousand times that he only wanted her body and nothing else. At this point, he hated to admit that he wanted everything from her, everything. Which was selfish in the extreme, since he didn't plan to give her anything in return, and he wouldn't, except... she hiccupped, her little shoulders shaking. God, why did she have to look so damn beautiful?

He had always loved Bella's simple purity, her seductive little noises when they were kissing, or as he pushed against her, he could almost swear they were purrs. Her eyes dark as the richest chocolate, always showing him all the way to her soul, something he definitely didn't want to see. He continued observing her. Standing there so helpless and delicate, her legs long and creamy, her cheeks rosy and moist. His whole body responded to his thoughts, stiffening, bracing itself. With a throat-clearing he forced himself to control himself, but when he took a much-needed breath of air, her fruity scent flooded his senses. Everything changed at that moment, there was no more logic, he couldn't think about why he shouldn't, nor that he was being a barbarian, the only thing he could process, was her. He found himself walking in her direction.

And not exactly to give explanations.

Bella's eyes widened as she watched him walk towards her, so she stepped back awkwardly. Her husband's gaze still scared her, dazzled her, even seduced her, no matter the years. He had that indecipherable glow like jade as he strode towards her. He was wild and beautiful, even in the completely dishevelled suit, even if he was nothing more than a drunk. And given his predatory look, she knew that if she didn't do something sooner rather than later, he would end up on top of her... and she couldn't help it.

Summoning all her strength, she turned around, running hurriedly towards the stairs, almost skidding to the first floor, and rushed into the children's room, still trembling as she tried to engage the latch. Once she managed it, panting, she slid her back against the door until her ass hit the floor, pressing her lips together she hugged her knees with both arms, burying her head there. She wanted to die, she hated herself for loving him so much, for wanting him with all her might.

Standing outside the door to the twins' room, Edward debated whether to knock with his knuckles or rip the damn door off. He took a breath, shook his head, and then let his hand, which was on the handle, slip into a fist. He leaned his forehead against the door. He wanted to apologize to her, wanted to get between her legs, wanted to frame her face, and kiss away her tears. The very thought made him straighten abruptly, hating her for making him feel that way, so, with a snarl, he turned around and went straight to his room, where he slammed the door angrily.

He lay down on the bed still dressed and closed his eyes, wishing all that alcohol would work its magic, rendering him unconscious. Instead, his brain took another path, bringing up images of the way he'd ended up with Isabella, that robbed him of an agonised moan, he didn't want to go there, but there was nothing that could stop him now, and in that horrendous whirlwind, at some point, he had to have fallen asleep.

Sammy stirred restlessly in bed, so Bella got up to go to him. Her body protested, her bones creaked from lying so long on the floor, she was still numb, and she was cold as she made her way to him to lie beside him. He was beautiful, with brown hair and long lashes adorning his lovely eyes, his face in an adorable frown, which without thinking, she began to caress with the intention of disappearing.

"What's going on, Mommy?" he asked yawning, his green eyes widening lazily. He was so much like him... the image took her breath away as it did every time.

"Nothing, baby. Sleep"

"Has Daddy arrived yet?"

"Yes, my love." She kissed his forehead. "Rest."

"Can we have waffles for breakfast tomorrow?"

"As many as you want."

"Will he have breakfast with us?" Bella sighed.

"I don't know."

"But supposing he wants to, will you make him waffles? I've seen that he likes them with lots of honey." She sighed before smiling at him.

"Okay, I will. Now get some rest, love."

The boy smiled, snuggling into her side, so Bella hugged him, kissing him tenderly on the forehead as she stroked his hair. She might be living in hell, she might even hate her life, but she would never, ever regret them, her children.

So...Hello once again! This is a story I totally loved back in the day. What do you think is going to happen?

PS: I'm all by myself now, so I'm sorry if there are any mistakes!