Of course it wasn't a good year, she nearly argued. Except — except he said it in context with his curse. She hadn't seen it starting, she didn't even know what was happening, but the timing of it was too exact for it to not have been her fault. "I'm sorry." She offered quietly, for there was nothing else she could say to this version of him that would soothe that particular wound.

The objects he displayed made her heart break further. Rosalie could do nothing to disguise the devastation spreading throughout her body. Her expression crumpled, her shoulders slumped. She was curling in on herself as if that would somehow stop the grief from wrecking her once again.

She moved from the chair to the floor, the ground solid in a way the plush chair could never be. "No," she managed after a long pause, her voice thick with emotion. Rosalie could hardly look from the small glove, from the future that she had destroyed. "No, you never - I -" Her head shook with her continued denial.

And then, much to her intense horror, she began to cry.

---