Aiden woke to sunlight crawling slowly and pale across the ceiling tiles. He blinked, disoriented, half expecting to see Rosalie still sitting in that chair, her posture perfect, her eyes quietly watching him even when she pretended not to. But the room was empty, the chair vacant, the quiet oddly hollow.
Of course she was gone.
Steve too.
One had school. The other had to patrol.
And Aiden… Aiden had an ache in his ribs that wasn't entirely physical.
He breathed out slowly, forcing the fog from his head.
But the quiet didn't last.
The door burst open with a suddenness that grated on his nerves, and Jessica Stanley came bouncing in with all the subtlety of a marching band. Her perfume hit a moment later, sweet, bright, trying too hard.
"Aiden!" she practically sang. "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're awake!"
Behind her, quieter but with eyes that were entirely too observant, Bella Swan slipped into the room. She offered a tentative wave, her gaze flicking across the monitors, across his bruises, then toward the door, like she was already planning her exit but forcing herself to stay.
For her own reasons.
Jessica didn't wait for an invitation. She plopped into the chair closest to his bed and crossed her legs, leaning forward with breathless enthusiasm.
"So! There's been so much happening, like, you missed everything. The bio classes are going on this field trip, and honestly? It's going to be sooo boring—"
"Thank God," Aiden muttered. "Sounds like torture."
Jessica laughed way too loudly, her eyes brightening. "Right? See? That's exactly what I said! You're so funny—like, seriously, no one else gets it. So, um… I was thinking—"
Aiden felt it before she said it.
That tightening in the air.
That pre-confession nervous tremor.
No.
Please no.
"—maybe you'd want to go to prom with me?"
Aiden closed his eyes briefly. He wasn't cruel. He wasn't unkind. But he was tired, physically and emotionally, and Jessica's voice felt like someone tapping his skull repeatedly with a pen.
"Jessica," he said gently, "I'm not going to prom. I'm not really into school dances."
Her expression fell. Not with simple disappointment, but with that specific, wounded look of someone who had already pictured their entire night together.
"Oh," she whispered. "So… it's me?"
"No," Aiden said quickly. "It's not you. I just don't want to go."
But she didn't hear him.
Or didn't want to.
Her face crumpled as she stood abruptly. "I should… I should go. I didn't… I'll just…"
And she left before he could finish the sentence.
The dark entity inside him, whatever that whispering presence was, chuckled in the back of his mind.
"Pathetic. Why did you do that? You knew she wanted something from you. They both do."
Aiden clenched his jaw. Shut up.
Bella exhaled harshly once Jessica was gone. "You didn't have to be so—"
"So what?" Aiden snapped, sharper than intended. "Honest?"
She blinked. "Harsh."
"She asked a question. I answered."
"And by the way, Bella. And before you say anything, are you going?" Her entire face froze. She opened her mouth. I closed it.
"…That's what I thought," Aiden murmured. "So maybe don't play moral referee."
Bella sat, flustered, her hands tightly folded around themselves.
Bella opened her mouth again, ready with some moral commentary she probably didn't even believe. But Aiden beat her to it.
"Why are you really here, Bella?"
She froze. Guilty. Too guilty.
"I just wanted to check on you," she tried.
"Bullshit."
She stiffened.
"Everyone else is checking on me," he said. "You, your here for something else"
He leaned back against the pillows. "Okay, Bella. You're not here for Jessica. And you're not here to check on me. So… state your question."
She swallowed. "I just wanted to know… what you remember. About the accident."
He stared at her.
Of course she wanted that.
She wanted confirmation. Validation. Someone else who saw Edward lift her like she weighed nothing, moving fast enough to blur, strong enough to stop a van in a single blow.
She wanted someone to say, yes. It happened. You're not crazy.
But Aiden wasn't going to be that someone.
Not because he wanted to protect Edward.
But because last night, when Rosalie looked at him with fear disguised as anger, he realized exposing their secret might get him killed. And worse, might hurt her.
So, he swallowed the truth. Again.
"I told everyone already," he said flatly. "I got hit. I flew. I blacked out. That's all."
Bella's eyes hardened.
"That's not all," she whispered.
"Well, that's all I'm giving you."
Her face twisted, anger, frustration, something personal and oddly bitter. "Why won't you just admit what you saw? Everyone keeps asking me what happened, and—"
"And they'll keep asking," Aiden cut in sharply, "because you're the one who walked away without a scratch while I was lying on the pavement bleeding."
Bella froze.
Good.
He wasn't done.
"You want answers from me? Why? So, you can feel less special? Less alone? Less… whatever this is?" His voice rose, not loud, but with heat. Old heat. The kind that came from being overlooked, forgotten, pushed aside. "People coddled you like some fragile kitten. Meanwhile, I was the one in the ambulance. But sure, let's make this about your mystery."
Bella's mouth opened… but nothing came out.
He sighed. Sat up straighter. The anger drained, leaving something dull behind.
"You should go. You're going to be late for your field trip."
She stared at him for a long second. Hurt. Confused. But mostly… startled that he wasn't playing along with her script.
Almost whispering, she asked, "If you do remember… anything… Will you tell me?"
Aiden shook his head gently. "Bella… you don't want those answers."
Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened, not understanding, but sensing meaning.
She hesitated when Carlisle walked in, her eyes darting between him and Aiden, as if suddenly aware this was a bad moment to be here.
Carlisle gave her a polite nod. "Bella."
She left without responding.
Finally,
Carlisle approached Aiden's bed with the calm, gentle efficiency that made people trust him instinctively. "How are you feeling this morning?"
"Better." Aiden straightened slightly. "Everything healed nicely?"
Carlisle checked the chart, though Aiden knew he already had everything memorized. "Your ribs are still bruised. Your shoulder, which looked like a break, has improved to a fracture. Remarkable healing rate."
"I always healed fast," Aiden said with a shrug. "It's nothing new."
Carlisle studied him with just enough curiosity to be dangerous. "Fast, yes. But this is… unusually fast."
Aiden swallowed. "So how long do I stay here?"
"I'd prefer to keep you another day," Carlisle admitted. "For observation. But if you're stable and comfortable, I can release you later today with pain medication, and a doctor's note."
Aiden nodded. Relief flickered, but then something darker settled in his chest. A weight he'd been ignoring for months. The quiet ache behind his eyes. The persistent whisper he never acknowledged aloud.
He inhaled.
"Carlisle… can you prescribe something else too?"
Carlisle paused. "For what?"
Aiden looked down at his hands.
At the bruises.
At the EKG lines.
At the faint tremor he hid so well.
"For depression," he said quietly. "And… could you not tell Steve?"
Carlisle's expression shifted, concern without judgment. "Of course. But may I ask—"
"You can't get rid of me," the dark entity whispered, curling around his thoughts. "Medication won't save you."
Aiden's breath hitched. "Please," he said, voice barely stable. "Just… don't tell him."
Carlisle nodded slowly. "I won't. Let's talk through your symptoms."
Aiden closed his eyes.
It was the first time he said it out loud.
And God, it felt terrifying.