Amara did not stomp.
She glided aggressively.
Which, in her opinion, was entirely justified behavior for someone who had been personally attacked by a car horn at sunrise.
The wooden stairs absorbed each step of her descent like unwilling participants in her emotional journey. Not loud enough to be dramatic.
But loud enough.
Every step said: I remember.
She adjusted the strap of her bag over her shoulder as she descended, face calm.
Serene, even.
Too serene.
The kind of calm that makes people reconsider their life choices.
Inside?
Oh.
Inside was a courtroom.
And Edward was on trial.
That emo-faced immortal teenager.
That overgrown brooding statue with century-old mood issues.
He had really stood outside her house and honked.
Like this was a fast-food drive-thru.
The audacity.
He had disrupted her sacred sleep.
Her only fragile peace.
Her one tiny moment of mercy in this permanently overcast town.
And for what?
Impatience.
She reached the last step.
Her foot touched the floor with quiet finality.
Just wait.
Revenge would not be rushed.
It would not be loud.
It would not be obvious.
It would be calculated.
Elegant.
Unexpected.
And deeply embarrassing.
Possibly involving public humiliation.
Possibly involving a ringtone.
Possibly both.
She stepped into the kitchen.
Bella was already there.
Which meant something was absolutely wrong.
Bella standing upright before school without tripping over something? Suspicious.
Bella holding two mugs and looking alert?
Concerning.
Bella looking like she was negotiating a peace treaty? Extremely concerning.
The smell of coffee filled the air.
Bella's one safe culinary achievement.
The only beverage she could produce without endangering structural integrity.
Bella's eyes snapped up the second Amara entered.
Assessment mode activated.
Is she still angry?
Is she calm?
Is she pretending to be calm?
Is this the calm before emotional homicide?
Amara's face gave nothing away.
Not a twitch.
Not a sigh.
Not even a narrowed eye.
Which was far worse than visible rage.
Bella forced a smile that looked like it required physical effort.
"Good morning!" she said brightly. Too brightly. "I made coffee."
She extended the mug toward Amara carefully.
Like one might approach a wild animal.
Or a ticking device.
Amara paused.
Looked at the mug.
Looked at Bella.
Looked back at the mug.
Bella did not blink.
Amara accepted it.
Bella exhaled quietly like she had just diffused something.
Amara lifted the mug and took a slow, deliberate sip.
Bella watched her like a scientist observing a reaction.
Was it too bitter?
Too hot?
Too weak?
Would this determine the fate of the household?
Amara swallowed.
It was… decent.
Shockingly.
Miraculously.
She gave the faintest nod.
Bella relaxed exactly one percent.
Which was unfortunately enough to make her start talking.
Fast.
Too fast.
"I know Edward shouldn't have honked in the morning and he said he'll text next time and it was probably just an accident and he didn't mean to wake you and I'm sure he feels bad and he didn't think it through and—"
Amara blinked slowly.
Bella kept going.
"And it's not like he was trying to be rude or anything and he probably thought I was running late and I didn't answer my phone and he just—"
Sip.
Amara took another calm sip of coffee.
Bella was unraveling.
"And you're not still mad, right? I mean, it's morning, so maybe we can just move on and pretend it didn't happen and—"
Amara lowered the mug slightly.
"Bella."
Bella froze mid-sentence like someone had pressed pause.
"Yes?"
Amara tilted her head just slightly.
"If I were still mad," she said evenly, "you would know."
Bella swallowed.
Because that was true.
Terrifyingly true.
Still, she wasn't reassured.
Not fully.
She shifted tactics.
"Are you hungry?" Bella asked quickly. "I can make breakfast."
There was a long pause.
Amara stared at her.
Expression blank.
Then—
She snorted.
An actual, involuntary snort.
"Cook breakfast? You?"
Bella blinked, mildly offended.
"Hey—"
"More like cook the house," Amara replied calmly, taking another sip. "And I'd rather not start my day evacuating."
Bella opened her mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"…I'm getting better."
Amara raised an eyebrow.
Bella reconsidered that statement.
"Okay, slightly better."
"And no," Amara added smoothly, "I'm not hungry."
Bella nodded awkwardly.
"Right. Of course. You're not hungry. That makes sense. Hunger is optional."
Silence stretched between them.
Amara finished the coffee in one smooth motion and set the cup down with quiet precision.
Not slammed.
Not aggressive.
Just final.
She rolled her shoulders once.
Emotion reset.
Face neutral.
Internally?
Still drafting revenge scenarios.
Bella hovered near the counter like an anxious assistant.
Should she apologize again?
Should she defend Edward again?
Should she pretend the honk never existed?
She chose silence.
For once.
Amara turned and walked toward the front door.
Bella followed automatically.
Not too close.
But close enough.
Like someone escorting a volatile diplomat who might declare war at any second.
She glanced at Amara's face again.
Still calm.
Too calm.
Bella decided one thing with absolute certainty:
Edward was on borrowed time.
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