For a few long seconds, neither of them spoke.
Not the peaceful kind of silence—no, this was the awkward, stretched-out kind that pressed against the walls and made the air feel too thick. The room seemed to hold its breath along with them.
The only sound came from Bella.
She was chewing on her lower lip like it had personally betrayed her.
Amara watched her.
Watched the way Bella's eyes darted from the floor to the wall, then to the window, then to absolutely nothing at all—staring into the void like it might hand her answers if she glared hard enough. Her fingers twisted together, untwisting, twisting again. A full mental spiral in progress.
If overthinking burned calories, Bella would be in peak athletic condition.
Amara sighed internally, a long, tired sigh that felt like it came from the deepest part of her soul.
Why, Bella?
Why would you tell me this?
She leaned back against the bed, crossing her arms slowly, her posture loose but her gaze sharp. One eyebrow lifted as she studied Bella like a very confusing math problem she hadn't signed up to solve this early in the morning.
I really thought you were the suffer-in-silence type, she thought dryly.
The brood-quietly. The stare-out-the-window-while-internally-panicking girl.
The internal monologue queen. The "I will carry this burden alone and say nothing until it emotionally destroys me" archetype.
What happened to that vibe?
She tilted her head slightly, watching Bella chew her lip harder, like it owed her money.
Did I accidentally crack your emotional firewall?
Did being nice to you unlock the sharing thoughts feature?
Because this—this whole situation—felt like a personal consequence of her own actions.
Amara exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled, schooling her expression into something calm, even as her mind screamed, I did not consent to this plot development.
Bella finally looked up.
Their eyes met.
She cleared her throat.
"So," Amara said finally, tilting her head slightly, her tone careful in that I am trying to stay sane kind of way. "Let's say—purely hypothetically—the Cullens are vampires."
Bella's head snapped up so fast Amara half-expected whiplash.
Amara lifted a hand immediately. "No, no. Don't interrupt. Hypothetical scenario. Academic discussion."
Bella stared at her.
Amara continued, calm and maddeningly reasonable. "What exactly changes for us?"
Bella blinked.
Once.
"…What?"
Amara shrugged, spreading her hands. "I mean, okay. Vampires. Cool. Immortal. Cold. Possibly sparkly under the right lighting conditions." She waved this off. "But what does that actually have to do with us? We're still human. We still have school. Homework. Bills. Bad cafeteria food."
Bella frowned, fingers twisting together like they were trying to escape her hands.
"I don't think they are," Bella said slowly, hesitation creeping into her voice.
Amara raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Bella swallowed.
"I know they are."
Amara paused.
Oh. That escalated quickly.
Bella muttered the rest under her breath, words tumbling out in a rush—something about how it made sense, and how everything clicked, and how it felt meant to be.
Amara squinted at her.
"…What did you just say?"
Bella stiffened like she'd been caught stealing cookies at midnight. "Nothing."
"No, no," Amara leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. "Say it again.
Unfortunately, I don't have supernatural hearing."
Bella chewed on her lip again, the universal sign of I'm about to say something unhinged.
Then, very quietly, she said,
"It feels like… Edward and I are connected."
Silence.
Thick. Heavy. Absolute.
Amara stared at her.
Blankly.
Unmoving.
Then—
"Ew."
Bella gasped like she'd been personally attacked. "Don't look at me like that!"
Amara grimaced. "Bella. You've known him for how long? Two weeks? Three? That's not destiny—that's a school schedule."
Bella opened her mouth.
"And," Amara continued mercilessly, "you've exchanged what—five full sentences? And three of them were awkward silences?"
Bella closed her mouth.
"You don't even know if he has weird habits," Amara pressed. "What if he eats cereal with water?"
Bella recoiled. "That's disgusting."
"Exactly," Amara said, pointing at her like she'd won an argument. "Immortal beings alive for centuries? You know they've developed at least one unhinged behavior."
She started counting on her fingers.
"Maybe Edward hums while hunting.
Maybe Carlisle alphabetizes his medical tools for fun.
Maybe Lucien—"
A pillow flew at her face.
WHAM.
"STOP," Bella shouted.
Amara caught it easily, laughing. "I'm just saying! Psychological damage after a hundred years is practically guaranteed."
Bella stood abruptly, eyes blazing with sudden determination.
"I have to talk to Edward."
Amara froze.
"…You what."
Bella nodded like this was the most logical conclusion in the universe. "I need answers."
"Bella," Amara said slowly, carefully, "you just confirmed he's a vampire."
"Yes."
"A vampire," Amara repeated.
"Yes."
"A creature that could kill you," Amara emphasized, "in approximately three seconds."
Bella was already moving toward the door. "I'll be careful!"
Amara slapped a hand over her face.
"WHO DOES THIS?"
Bella paused at the doorway, turned back, and declared dramatically—like she was addressing an invisible audience—
"I'm going to talk to Edward Cullen."
Then she left.
Amara stared at the closed door.
Long. Hard.
"…Idiot," she muttered.
She flopped back onto the bed, arms splayed.
This conversation somehow ended with that decision?
She stared at the ceiling, utterly defeated.
"Well," she sighed to the empty room, "if I die, maybe in my next life I'll have a normal cousin. One who stays far, far away from vampires."
She closed her eyes.
"Please let that one have boring problems."
She rolled out of bed with a groan that suggested she'd just survived a minor war and headed downstairs.
The bathroom routine was swift and slightly aggressive—teeth brushed like they had personally wronged her, face splashed with cold water, and then straight into the shower. The water was hot, almost scalding, steam curling around her like a temporary escape from reality.
She stood there for a moment longer than necessary, letting the heat loosen her shoulders and fog her thoughts.
It helped.
A little.
It didn't erase the image of Bella marching off to confess her existential crisis to a vampire, but it helped.
Back in her room, she dressed on autopilot.
Black tight jeans that fit like they were personally tailored. A black turtleneck—simple, sleek, dramatic. Leather jacket, because of course. Heeled boots that made a very satisfying sound on the floor.
Hair loose. Effortless. Like she hadn't just mentally aged ten years in one morning.
She stopped in front of the mirror, studying her reflection. The girl staring back looked composed. Dangerous. Completely unbothered.
Which was a lie—but a good one.
"Well," she said to the mirror solemnly, adjusting her jacket, "even if I die, I'll die looking good."
She nodded once, satisfied with that life philosophy, grabbed her bag, and headed downstairs.
Only Bella was there, hovering near the living room like she'd already burned off three nervous thoughts and was working on a fourth.
"Charlie already left," Bella said. "He's… stressed."
Amara's expression softened instantly.
"…Yeah," she murmured. "That makes sense."
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
Then they stepped outside.
The air was cool and damp, the kind that clung to your skin and made everything feel a little heavier. The sky was overcast, the world quiet in that early-morning Forks way—like it was holding its breath.
Amara walked toward her sleek black Audi A4, keys spinning lazily around her finger like she had all the time in the world.
Bella climbed into her monstrous truck of hers like it was a battle vehicle, slamming the door shut with enthusiasm.
Amara paused, leaning against her car door, suddenly serious.
"Bella."
Bella looked up through the open truck window.
"Please," Amara said, pointing a finger at her for emphasis, "do not ask Edward—or any Cullen—about being vampires."
Bella opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Hesitated.
"…No promises."
Amara closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Of course.
"Fantastic," she sighed. "I love that for me."
Bella grinned like she'd just won something, rolled up her window, and revved the engine.
Amara slid into her Audi, started the engine, and pulled out of the driveway.
Two cars. Two girls. One very bad idea moving steadily toward disaster.
And somehow—despite the dread curling in her stomach, despite the vampires, the wolves, the chaos—
Amara already knew.
This was only the beginning.
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