Hopeless Devotion ~ A Jasper Hale Story

Chapter Twelve - Time Slowing

Saturaday September 9th

The morning arrived both slowly and too fast, the kind of morning that stretched itself across the house while simultaneously refusing to pause for anyone. I woke to Bella groaning beside me, her sharp inhale scraping against my nerves. Another broken rib, I realized before I even opened my eyes. Her body was a battlefield, her muscles tensing and pulling against something I couldn't fully see, and I felt the familiar twist of worry deep in my chest. Watching her was like watching a war in slow motion, the kind of war you can't intervene in. She looked like the perfect nightmare of pregnancy, all angles and strained skin stretched over something that didn't belong.

I shifted, careful to keep quiet, and the room tilted. Not much, just enough to make my stomach drop and my hands tighten into the sheets. I froze, pretending it was intentional. But the truth had already arrived: I hadn't been fine. I'd just been standing next to Bella. If she looked like she was carrying a monster, then I looked... normal.  Heavy, swollen, whole. And somehow that had been fooling me into thinking my body wasn't being drained too—that this situation was normal, and Bella was just enduring the worse half of it.

Jasper's gaze met mine across the room, unwavering. "Could you help me to the kitchen?" I asked, voice soft, thick with fatigue. He didn't hesitate. His hand was firm at my back as he guided me, and the floor seemed impossibly far, every step pulling against my limbs. Hunger clawed at me now, different than before. Deep, hollow, insistent, unlike the sharp need Bella had fought for hours. My body was asking for something older, something the kitchen, with its eggs and toast and coffee, would never satisfy.

Carlisle had set out styrofoam cups with straws for us, and I stared at mine as though it might bite. Bella mirrored me, gripping her own with trembling hands. My lips touched the straw almost instinctively, and the first sip made everything else vanish. Warmth spread through me, sharp and electrifying, chasing away dizziness and fatigue in a rush that nearly made me stumble backward. My vision sharpened, sounds aligned, colors deepened, and the fog that had been wrapping itself around my thoughts evaporated like it had never been there.

"Oh," I breathed, stunned. Beside me, Bella let out a small, half-laugh, half-sob, her eyes wide. "I don't know how I'm going to get used to this." Energy unfurled in my body like a wave that didn't crash but rolled steady and reassuring. Jasper's hand hovered over mine, protective and unspoken, and I felt both grateful and guilty at the clarity this simple cup had given me.

Then came the phone. Charlie's name lit the screen, glowing in the sunlight streaming through the kitchen window. We exchanged a look, and I took it. "Hey, Dad," I said, trying to anchor my voice in normalcy, letting Bella answer as well so he could hear both of us.

"You girls sick?" he asked immediately, worry threading through every word.

"Yes," Bella said, forcing her voice to tremble. I gve her a weak smile, while wee are telling him a half truth, mostly based on lies.  "Just... phemonia, Dad. We're resting."

I chimed in carefully, adding faint coughs at appropriate intervals, painting a believable picture of weakness and exhaustion. Internally, I choreographed every syllable, every pause, planting the idea gently in his mind: if we were unreachable, it wasn't neglect. If things went wrong... he would understand. We were careful, deliberate. Every word mattered, and yet our voices sounded unremarkable, human even.

Charlie didn't press further. We hung up, letting relief wash through us, but fatigue had already sunk into my bones again. My hands trembled as I set the phone down. I wasn't just exhausted from pretending; the blood wasn't something I could forget about for long. It had done its work, yes, but I could feel the first threads of depletion sneaking back, subtle but real.