"Every person has roughly six people that look like just like them"
It used to be a funfact she would tell other people. Because it was fun to her, the way she would sometimes stroll around the streets and see the face of someone she had met before but it wasn't them.
But it stopped being fun when she saw that face for the first time. Her Bella's face, so youthful and unbothered, so familiar and lovely, except it was not Bella wearing that face. It was some other woman.
It became a horrifying reality when she had to realise that faces would show up again and again and again. The pain in her long dead heart never became less, never went away. Even after hundreds of years and a dozen of times she saw Bella's face on someone else she would freeze on the spot.
Because her Bella was dead. And her Bella was actually never hers because she was a coward.
She should have stayed behind.
Maybe they wouldn't have gotten to her.
Maybe Bella could have been with her forever, if only she stayed and was honest when she still had the chance to speak up.
But she missed her chance and now she only had that lovely face haunting her with the knowledge that that wasn't Bella.