The Art of turning heart

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The next morning, I found myself nestled against Edward beneath the towering oak tree in the fields of my family's estate. The soft breeze rustled the leaves above us, and the scent of wildflowers filled the air. I dared a glance at him, my heart racing as I observed his features—his strong jawline, softened by the morning light, the way his dark hair fell slightly into his eyes, and the depth of those eyes, so blue they seemed to hold the sky itself.

He was at ease, lying there with an arm draped casually over me, his gaze focused on the landscape. Yet my mind was far from calm. The wedding, always looming in my thoughts, caused my chest to tighten with each passing day. I tried to suppress the anxiety, but it clung to me like a shadow.

Edward caught me staring, and a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Caught you," he teased, his voice soft yet playful. "Admiring me, are you?"

I felt my cheeks flush with warmth, the color no doubt betraying my inner turmoil. "I was merely thinking," I replied, somewhat distracted.

"Thinking about what?" His hand reached up, his fingers gently threading through my hair in that soothing way of his, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "You're troubled, I can tell," he murmured, his tone growing more serious. "What is it, Isabella?"

I shook my head quickly, forcing a smile that I hoped would put him at ease. "It's nothing, Edward, truly."

He frowned, clearly unconvinced. His eyes, filled with concern, searched mine as though seeking the truth I was withholding. My heart ached at the thought of worrying him, and I quickly shifted the conversation, not wanting him to dwell on my fears.

"Why do you love me?" I asked, my voice quieter than I had intended. The words slipped out almost impulsively, but now that they were in the air, I couldn't take them back. My eyes remained on the soft fabric of his shirt, avoiding his gaze as my doubts resurfaced.

He seemed taken aback by the question, a moment of silence passing between us before he spoke, his voice full of sincerity. "Why do I love you? Isabella, how could I not? You are kind and courageous, full of wit and warmth. You have this strength about you that I admire deeply. You care so fiercely for those you love, and there's a light in you that draws me in, even when you don't realize it."

His words enveloped me like a warm embrace, and for a brief moment, my heart soared. He had spoken from the depths of his heart, and I could feel the truth in every syllable. But still, beneath the surface, the nagging doubts lingered. Was I truly enough for him? Would I live up to the expectations of being his wife?

I smiled, trying to shake off the uncertainty, but I knew it remained. Edward's love was like the sun—constant, unyielding, and always bright. Yet I feared that, like a cloud, I might one day obscure it. Still, for now, I clung to his words, letting them soothe the ache within me, even if only for a little while longer.

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Edward noticed the lingering doubt in my expression, his eyes searching mine, but I deliberately avoided his gaze, fearing what he might see in them. He sighed softly, his voice gentle as he spoke, "Isabella, you drive me to madness, you know that? I could spend a lifetime trying to convince you of what my heart already knows."

His words sent a flush of warmth to my cheeks, and I could feel the heat rise. He had such an effect on me. I managed a whisper, teasing, "Madness, you say? Well, I suppose I've achieved my goal then."

He chuckled, the sound light and warm, as his fingers gently grasped my chin, turning my face toward his. "You'll pay for that, love. Perhaps I'll make you stand... just to see you blush again."