Chapter 9: Echoes and Misinterpretations
"Some truths hide in silence. Others bloom in the spaces between questions."
Monday.
I kept my head down during my morning classes, my notes organized, my ring tucked under my sleeve, and my thoughts very carefully nowhere near vampires, magic jewelry, or the fact that my subconscious apparently moonlights in Civil War reenactments.
Today, I was Bella Swan. Just Bella. Transfer student. Quiet. Bookish. Weird but manageable.
And Edward Cullen was back.
He sat across the cafeteria like a ghost that had been waiting for the cue to reenter the script. Same perfect face. Same statue-still posture. Same untouchable aura of alien detachment.
But now he was looking at me.
Not constantly. Not directly. But I could feel the weight of it—like being studied by something that hadn't decided whether I was prey or anomaly.
Across from me, Angela prattled on about the upcoming field trip. Her voice was a welcome distraction.
"Do you think we'll actually see anything in that greenhouse or will it just be damp and mossy?"
"Probably both," I said, offering her a half-smile. "But at least it's an excuse to get out of Banner's room for a day."
She laughed, brushing her hair behind her ear. "You're lucky. He actually likes you. He roasted Ben the other day for calling mitochondria 'cell batteries.'"
I laughed too, softly, because it felt normal. Grounding.
Angela didn't ask about Edward. She hadn't noticed anything strange last week. No one had. Forks High was good at not noticing the supernatural unless it bit them. Literally.
I kept eating my apple. Kept pretending everything was fine.
Canon was holding.
And if Edward wanted to pretend we hadn't had that weird feral standoff in Biology last week?
Fine by me.
Biology – second to last class.
Mr. Banner greeted us with an overhead slide already projected on the screen. "Today, we're identifying the stages of mitosis. Prophase, metaphase, anaphase, telophase—know them, love them. You'll work in pairs to label cell phases on these prepared slides."
Edward was already seated, stiff-backed and silent. His eyes met mine for half a second before flicking away, but that was more than last time.
I took my seat beside him. There was a beat of quiet, then he said, "Hello."
I tilted my head. "Hi."
"I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before."
I gave a dry smirk. "Before you bolted from the room like I had the plague?"
He winced slightly, but said, "Yes. I'm Edward Cullen."
"Bella Swan."
We fell into silence again as Mr. Banner passed out worksheets and pointed out the first slide.
Then Edward leaned in slightly. "Why Forks?"
I blinked at the question. "Excuse me?"
"You don't seem like someone who enjoys cloud cover and moss. Why move here?"
I shrugged. "Because my mom remarried and wanted to travel. My dad's here. I didn't mind coming."
He frowned. "Most people would."
"I'm not most people."
Another pause. Then: "Do you like it here?"
I turned to him, arching a brow. "Are you always this nosy, or is this special treatment?"
He actually looked startled. "I just… like to know who I'm sitting with."
"Do you ask everyone else in class this many questions?"
"No."
His voice was low, conflicted. I didn't press. I focused on the microscope.
"Anaphase," I said, labeling the slide.
"Correct," he murmured.
"You're good at this," I said.
He gave a tight smile. "I've had… practice."
The bell rang far too soon. I gathered my things.
"See you tomorrow, Bella," he said, voice low and unreadable.
I didn't answer.
The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Locker, final class, cloudy skies. I was out the doors and into the drizzle before my thoughts could spiral too far.
Canon was holding. For now.
At home, I changed into leggings and a sweatshirt, checked the stew leftovers, and set the table. Charlie came in ten minutes later, smelling like coffee, office dust, and rain.
He toed off his boots and dropped into his chair with a sigh. "Smells good."
"It's leftovers. I'm not a miracle worker."
"You're my miracle worker if it means no frozen pizza again."
We ate in comfortable silence for a while, then Charlie looked up from his bowl.
"School okay?"
"Yeah. Just regular Monday stuff. Cell division and cryptic classmates."
"Cryptic?"
"Edward Cullen. He finally spoke to me."
Charlie snorted. "That quiet one with the bronze hair?"
"That's the one."
Later, we watched a rerun of some crime show that involved far too much yelling. Charlie dozed off halfway through. I covered him with the old flannel blanket and crept upstairs.
Dreamwalk
The air was dry and brittle.
A breeze rolled over a dusty landscape—open plains dotted with ghost towns and wooden signs faded from sun and time. The stars were sharp above, like knife points pressed into velvet.
And there he was.
Damon stood beside an old stagecoach, coat slung over his shoulder, a faded map in hand. He looked older—not in years, but in soul. The boyish fire was banked now, burning low under weary eyes.
His fangs were gone.
But his gaze still saw everything.
"I wondered when you'd show up again," he said.
"Did you miss me?"
"I think I miss everything now."
I walked closer, boots crunching gravel.
"You're traveling."
"Nowhere in particular. Somewhere not Mystic Falls."
He didn't reach for me. He never did. But I felt the gravity of him all the same.
"You're quieter," I said.
"Hard not to be, when you've outlived your own rage."
I wanted to say something—anything—but the world around us was already fading.
Dust into wind. Moon into mist.
"Wait," I said, reaching for him.
He began to disappear.
"No… not yet," I whispered. "I need more time."
But he was gone.
Edward's POV
She slept with her hair splayed like ink across the pillow.
I shouldn't be here.
But I was.
I always was.
Her breathing was steady. Her heart rhythmic. She radiated heat like a beacon I couldn't look away from.
Then she whispered:
"No… not yet, I need more time."
The words curled in the air between us like smoke.
My hands fisted at my sides.
She was dreaming.
Of who?
Of what?
It didn't matter. Not really.
I told myself it didn't matter.
But part of me believed… hoped… she meant me.
That she already knew, deep down, what I was.
And didn't care.
I slipped from the room before dawn, the scent of her skin clinging to my throat like temptation.