Bella POV
The morning arrived silent yet heavy, as if the gray Forks sky could sense what she was feeling. Bella opened her eyes with effort. Edward sat beside her, his body slightly inclined toward her, like a guardian watching over her every last moment of safety. The faint light from the window barely illuminated his perfect face, accentuating the sharp contours and the intensity of his golden eyes, fixed on her with attention and concern.
"How are you feeling?" Edward's voice was soft, filled with that patience that always unsettled her.
Bella swallowed, the exhaustion heavy in every muscle. She had barely slept. The night had been long, full of thoughts circling around the tension between the Cullens and the Quileute. The feeling that any wrong move could change everything wouldn't let her rest. But she couldn't show that to him. Edward didn't need more worries piled onto the ones he already carried.
"Good… I slept well." Her voice sounded lighter than she felt, and her smile was barely a trace of reassurance.
Edward's brow furrowed, subtle but enough for Bella to feel she had failed. She couldn't read his mind, but the shadows beneath her eyes didn't lie. Edward leaned closer, his presence secure yet electrifying, and spoke softly, as though his words could hold back the world outside.
"Everything will work out, Bella. I won't allow anything—not even the Quileute—to come between us."
A strange warmth spread through Bella's chest. She smiled, weakly but sincerely. "I'll do what I can, too."
She rose from the bed slowly, still weighed down by fatigue. Every movement seemed to demand an effort she hadn't needed before. Edward, with his characteristic feline grace, stood and moved toward the window, resting his hands on the frame.
"I'll head home to change. I'll be back in a few minutes to take you to school."
Bella nodded, touched by the gesture, a familiar flutter stirring in her stomach. "All right."
He smiled, a blend of tenderness and mischief, and added:
"Don't take too long coming down—Charlie's already waiting for breakfast."
And then, as if he had never been there, Edward was gone. A breath of air, a blink, and his presence vanished, leaving only a lingering warmth in her chest and the gray light in the room.
Bella remained still, staring at the empty space where Edward had been. Her mind began to wander, imagining him moving at the speed she might one day share. Will I be that fast, that precise, that… perfect like him once I change? The thought made her sigh, heavy with both longing and anxiety. But she forced herself to shake it off, knowing she couldn't waste time on fantasies.
She headed to the bathroom, letting the morning chill envelop her. The steam of the hot shower embraced her like a refuge, slowly easing the tension in her shoulders. The steady murmur of water shut out the world, giving her a space to think undisturbed. She closed her eyes, letting the warmth relax her muscles, the vapor brushing her skin, softening the tight worry in her chest.
When she stepped out, her skin flushed and warm, she approached the fogged mirror. Wiping a clear patch on the glass, she confronted her reflection. Her eyes looked back at her—tired, with faint shadows beneath them, hair damp against her face and neck. She studied her body, her pale skin, her fragile humanness, and couldn't help comparing herself to Edward. His flawless features, his assured and elegant movements… next to him, she seemed fragile and lesser.
A lump rose in her throat. Will I ever be enough? she wondered with a thread of despair. She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh, trying to push the thought away.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she walked briskly back to her room. The cool air made her shiver, reminding her she needed to dress and face the day. Every movement was deliberate, carved into her body by routine, while Edward's shadow still lingered in her mind—a mix of inspiration and unease.
She dressed quickly, adjusting each piece of clothing as though external order might calm the turmoil inside. The day had barely begun, yet Forks already felt heavy with omens: school, Charlie, the secrets surrounding them…
Ready for school now, Bella descended the stairs with her backpack slung over her shoulder. Each step echoed softly against the wooden floor, a familiar sound that anchored her in her daily routine and, at the same time, made her unusually aware of the silence of the house. The scent of fresh coffee and toast drifted from the kitchen, mingling with the damp Forks breeze slipping through the open window, fresh with recent rain.
Reaching the dining room, she saw Charlie at the table, his back slightly hunched, shoulders tense as if weighed down by an invisible burden. His gaze was fixed on the window, yet distant, as though his thoughts had carried him somewhere far away from the calm of the morning. His hands rested on the table, one over the other, trembling almost imperceptibly, betraying the unrest Bella knew she couldn't ignore.
Curious, Bella followed his line of sight and noticed a woman walking her dog along the sidewalk. The scene looked mundane and peaceful, almost like a painting of everyday life. Trying to ease the tension filling the room, Bella made a lighthearted comment:
"She's a pretty lady, Dad."
Charlie blinked a couple of times, as if slowly waking from a deep dream, and turned his head slightly toward her. But his eyes still carried worry and restrained anguish, echoes of sleepless nights and recent memories that had marked him. In a calm, low voice, he said:
"I wasn't looking at her, Bells… I just got distracted."
Bella's mouth twisted slightly, a pinch of worry striking her. Over the past months, she had noticed a subtle but constant change in her father. Since Mrs. Winter's death and his slow recovery, Charlie was no longer the steady, relaxed man she remembered. He had returned to his shifts at work, cooked meals at times, carried on with his duties as always—but his mind seemed to wander elsewhere, trapped in a recent past that still hurt. His presence, though physical, felt partly absent, and Bella sensed it in every gesture, every silence.
A knot formed in Bella's chest. She wanted to tell her father that what he had seen that night was real: the vampires, the wolves, everything. She wanted him to know his fears weren't imaginary. But Edward and the Cullens had been clear and firm: better to keep him ignorant, to let him believe it had been a nightmare, or in his version, an attack by a wild animal. That imposed silence weighed heavily than she could express.
While her thoughts swirled, Charlie handed her a plate of breakfast. Simple—scrambled eggs, toast, and juice—but prepared with care, with that touch only a father could give. He was nearly finished eating and now watched her as she took her first bites, a mix of anxiety and expectation on his face, as if bracing himself to broach a delicate subject that lingered in the house like a silent ghost.
Feeling nervous and awkward—since lying never came easily to her—Bella asked cautiously, keeping her voice steady:
"What is it, Dad?"
Charlie swallowed, lowered his gaze to his plate, and shifted uneasily in his chair. Then, softly, almost hesitantly, he asked:
"Have you heard from Nate?"
Bella nearly choked on her toast. Nate was a topic she avoided at all costs; in truth, she barely knew anything about him anymore. The Cullens had been secretive with all related information, and only by chance, through one of Emmett's careless remarks during his frequent visits, had she learned of Nate's transformation. But that wasn't something she could share with Charlie—not even hint at.
With a low tone and a forced smile, she answered:
"No, Dad, I haven't heard from him since he left for D.C. months ago. I tried calling a few times, but his number's out of service…"
Charlie's lips tightened at that, a small gesture that for him meant emotional collapse. Then, with a faint trace of hope, he asked cautiously:
"But… your boyfriend's sister left at the same time he did. You know, it's a small town, and they were a couple… Obviously, they must have left together. Hasn't Edward said anything about them?"
Bella paused, her mind racing. She had to measure her words carefully; any slip could expose what they had fought so hard to keep hidden. She took a deep breath, lowering her voice, speaking almost more to console her father than to lie:
"Edward got in touch with Alice a while ago. He told me that when Nate found out about his grandmother… he wanted time to himself. You know, she was his only family. It must have been a terrible blow for him."
Charlie's expression crumpled at once, as though Bella's words had pierced the thin armor he wore each day. For a moment, Bella thought she would see him cry, and the thought crushed her heart.
In a low tone, almost a whisper more to himself than to her, Charlie murmured:
"I wouldn't be surprised if he never came back… I couldn't protect his grandmother… That poor boy lost his parents and then his grandmother… Even with the sheriff in his house, he had to go through all that… I failed Richard, and I failed Nate too… I'm sure he must hate me now."
Bella's stomach lurched. Seeing her father like this, eyes moist and gaze lost on his nearly untouched plate, tore her apart. She cursed inwardly, hating her clumsiness at inventing stronger excuses. She had never been good at lying, and when she tried, she only made things worse.
She quickly stood and wrapped her arms around Charlie, holding him tight as if she could shield him from his own sorrow.
"I don't think so, Dad," she said firmly, though her voice trembled slightly. "Nate cares about you a lot. There was nothing you could have done. That animal caught you by surprise…"
Charlie didn't answer right away. He only nodded faintly, like a man who wanted to believe the words but still wrestled with guilt. He stayed still in his daughter's arms, seeking in that contact a comfort words couldn't bring.
And then, in the heavy silence, an idea surfaced in Bella's mind.
Bella spoke haltingly, as if stringing the thought together was difficult: "You know, I've noticed you've been a little down lately… Why don't we spend some time with Billy and Jacob? You could invite them over to watch a game or something. I'll even cook—it's been months since they last came…"
As soon as she said it, Bella felt a weight in her chest. Using her father's sadness as a way to reach Jacob tasted of selfishness disguised as good intentions. But deep down, she knew it was necessary: she had to talk to Jacob, had to find a way out before the tension grew worse. She promised herself that once it was all over and things calmed down, she would find a way to make it up to Charlie for that little deceit.
Her father's face lit faintly, as though the very thought of spending time with his old friend sparked some fragile enthusiasm. A faint smile crossed his lips, though it didn't last—snuffed out quickly like a flame in cold wind. His shoulders sagged again, and in a tired voice, he admitted:
"I don't think so… Billy seems busy lately. I don't know what's going on at the reservation, but I haven't been able to see him or Harry. They won't even return my calls… But thank you, Bells. You're a good daughter."
Bella's heart lurched. Guilt flooded her at once, as if she had been caught with her hands somewhere they shouldn't be. The thought of telling Charlie the whole truth, of freeing him from that silent burden, tempted her for a moment. But the echo of Edward's and the Cullens' warnings rose in her mind like an unscalable wall.
Before she could decide, the soft rumble of an engine pulling up outside cut through the air. Charlie shifted in his chair and, in a tone forcefully lighter, remarked:
"Looks like Edward's here. Hurry, Bella, or you'll be late for school."
Bella nodded, biting her lip hard as she stood. She walked quickly to the entryway, her backpack bouncing against her back. Her heart was racing—not from the rush, but from the weight of all that had gone unsaid.
Before her hand reached the doorknob, her father's voice came from behind, softer now, imbued with quiet affection:
"You're free to invite Edward into this house whenever you want. He hardly ever stops to talk…"
Bella turned slightly, smiling with gentle warmth—small but sincere. "I will, Dad."
And with those words, she stepped out of the house, leaving behind Charlie's worried warmth and heading toward the silver car already waiting for her in the driveway.