The next few days moved with a quiet steadiness, almost like the calm before a storm. Every night Amara sank into the soft mattress of her attic bed and woke the next morning feeling impossibly refreshed. Sleep wasn't just rest anymore it was renewal. No matter how late she stayed up unpacking, cooking, or fussing over little things, she opened her eyes each morning with no trace of fatigue clinging to her body. Rob's so-called "healing perk" had to be responsible. She didn't like admitting it, but her body felt… flawless. The kind of effortless vitality people in her old world would pay fortunes for.
During those two days, she settled in little by little. She unpacked her remaining luggage, folding clothes and sliding shoes into the walk-in closet until it finally looked lived-in. She double-checked her cards, IDs, and the sleek wallet that tethered her to the real world. And she cooked breakfasts with eggs and toast, lunches simple but satisfying, and warm dinners that filled the house with a sense of life it hadn't had in years.
Charlie never said much, but she could read him better than he thought. His shoulders were less stiff when he came home to a house that smelled like dinner. The faint upward quirk of his lips was enough to tell her he was glad she was here, even if he'd never say it out loud. And lately, there was something more—he was almost buoyant, in his quiet, awkward way.
"Bella'll be here soon," he mentioned one morning, too casually, while buttering his toast.
The corners of his mouth tipped upward, his eyes softened, and Amara realized with a start that the usually stoic Charlie Swan was almost giddy.
She hid her grin behind her coffee mug. If only he knew. Poor man thinks Bella's return is just father-daughter bonding time. He has no idea it comes with moody teenagers, sparkly vampires, and a supernatural soap opera.
The thought made her chest tighten, so she quickly pushed it away, the same way she always did when the Twilight plotline tried to loom too large. Whenever she thought too hard about the supernatural ticking beneath this town, she'd distract herself organizing her closet, perfecting dinner, even humming songs under her breath while washing dishes. It was easier to act like Forks was just a normal, sleepy town and not the stage for immortal angst and werewolf drama.
By morning, she rose with purpose. Today, she was going shopping in the nearest city the same one mentioned in the movie. Her plan: buy things to brighten her attic room, add warmth for Bella's future room, and breathe some life into this dreary house before it swallowed her whole.
She moved through her morning routine with practiced ease. Brushed her teeth, combed through her glossy hair, and slipped into something that would have looked right at home in a 2004 fashion magazine low-rise bootcut jeans, a slim white top that hugged just right, and a cropped denim jacket. She slid on a pair of pointed-toe heels, dabbed on lip gloss, and glanced at her reflection. No makeup needed; her skin had that frustratingly perfect glow now.
Charlie had already left early for work some new case at the station had pulled him in so today she made herself a quick breakfast. Eggs, toast, and coffee. Simple, grounding. As she sat at the small kitchen table, she glanced around the gloomy house, its walls heavy with silence.
"This place needs saving," she muttered as she rinsed her plate. "Step one shopping spree."
Grabbing her card and jacket, she locked the front door behind her and stepped out to where her black Audi A4 waited. A couple of neighbors who hadn't left for work yet paused to stare. Amara, with her glossy hair, tailored jeans, and sunglasses perched on her head, looked more like a model out of a catalog than a new girl in Forks. She smirked at the gawking and slid smoothly into the driver's seat.
The engine purred, low and steady, and a ripple of excitement traveled through her. She checked her phone basic, clunky, a 2004 relic that made her miss Spotify, Instagram, and all the sleek conveniences of 2025. This was all she had now, a single contact saved: Charlie. It was depressing if she thought about it too long, so she snapped the phone shut and tossed it aside.
"Distraction," she whispered to herself, gripping the wheel. "That's the key."
With that, she backed out of the driveway and turned onto the road leading toward the Port Angeles. The forest stretched endlessly on either side, mist curling through the trees. Rain slicked the pavement, the kind that clung to the air in Forks like a permanent companion. The scenery was beautiful in its gloom, almost cinematic she could almost picture the very frames from the movie.
People she passed on the road glanced twice, some outright staring at the girl in the sleek black car with the model-like aura. Amara only smirked, letting them wonder.
She had a mission today: to shop, to fill the house with warmth, and to distract herself from the terrifying truth. That Forks wasn't just a sleepy town. That the forest hid things that howled at the moon. And that somewhere soon, she'd cross paths with a sparkly vampire who could hear her every thought.
The drive itself was almost therapeutic. The Audi purred along the winding highway, tall evergreens blurring past as the clouds hung heavy and low. Every few miles, she caught glimpses of the ocean glinting through the trees, a reminder that this corner of the world could be breathtaking when it wasn't suffocating. By the time the first signs for Port Angeles appeared, she almost convinced herself that this trip wasn't just a distraction it was a small reclaiming of control.
Port Angeles wasn't exactly New York, but compared to Forks, it felt like stepping into civilization. More lights, more cars, actual sidewalks with more than two people on them. For Amara, it was a breath of fresh air or as fresh as the misty Pacific Northwest could offer.
She parked her Audi A4 along a side street, stretched her arms over her head, and exhaled. Even that small movement had people's eyes flicking toward her. What is it with these people? Have they never seen a girl stretch before?
Fishing her sleek little 2004 flip phone out of her bag, she glanced at it like it was some ancient relic. That was it. She sighed and slid it back into her pocket along with her bank cards.
"Okay, let's make this house look less like a horror movie set," she muttered, squaring her shoulders and heading into the first store.
Once inside, she didn't even bother glancing at the price tags. Rob had shoved her into this world with wealth to spare she wasn't about to pinch pennies. One by one, she piled her cart with things that would breathe life into Charlie's gloomy house: lamps with warm light instead of sterile white, soft bed sheets with actual color, throw pillows in cozy textures, a few elegant picture frames. She snagged some bathroom sets too towels, a decent shower curtain, organizers.
Then came the fun part. Plants. Not huge ones that would take over the house, but small leafy greens for the windowsills, a couple of potted cuties to brighten the porch. At least if I'm going to be eaten by vampires, I'll die in a house that looks alive, she thought dryly.
When she passed the teen decor aisle, her steps slowed. Her mind flicked to Bella moody, clumsy, sparkle-drama Bella. Amara plucked a few pieces for her cousin's future room anyway: chic bedding, a modern lamp, and some wall art that screamed I'm trying, but not too hard. If nothing else, Bella wouldn't feel like she'd moved into a time capsule.
For herself, she grabbed a few indulgent touches. Silk pillowcases, a throw blanket that looked like it belonged in a fashion magazine, and a vanity mirror she knew she didn't need but wanted anyway. By the time she was done, her cart was full enough to turn heads. Again.
"Is there a sign on my forehead that says Please Stare?" she muttered under her breath, plastering on a polite smile as she wheeled the cart to the register.
The clerk bagged everything with wide eyes, and a store assistant even helped her load the car. She thanked them sweetly, though irritation prickled under her skin. Forks might be gloomy, but at least there she wasn't a walking zoo exhibit.
Once everything was stacked neatly in her Audi's trunk, Amara ducked into a little café on the corner. It smelled of fresh coffee and pastries, and the warm buzz of chatter was a nice change from Forks' oppressive quiet. She ordered a cappuccino and a plate of something flaky and buttery, then slid into a booth by the window.
Her gaze drifted outside while she stirred her coffee, the spoon clinking against the porcelain. She should have been relieved. She had money, clothes, a house, even a doting-but-awkward guardian. On paper, her new life looked perfect.
But her chest tightened anyway.
Because this wasn't just any world. It was a world of bloodsuckers who could rip her throat out in seconds, and werewolves who could turn her into minced meat if they so much as lost their temper.
And worse her presence here might already be throwing things off. Twilight wasn't just a story anymore. It was real. What if Bella's path changes because I'm here? What if someone dies who wasn't supposed to?
Amara clenched her jaw, staring down at her reflection in the dark coffee.
"I don't care if I die," she whispered under her breath. "But if someone else dies because of me…"
She trailed off, pressing her lips together. That was the thought that scared her more than all the glittery vampires and giant werewolves combined.
She shook it off with a sigh, forcing a smile as the waitress dropped off her pastry. Retail therapy first. Existential dread later.
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