Bella tried—really tried—to be careful. But even with all that caution, she still didn't make her flight on time. The plane was delayed. Perfectly, stupidly, normally delayed.
"Oh, come on." She slumped into a chair, completely done with the universe.
She didn't want to just sit there, but she didn't know the airport well enough to wander far without feeling lost. After thinking it over, she decided to browse the shops. Maybe pick up a small gift for her father—the man she'd never actually met.
Sure, Forks was a tiny three-thousand-person town, microscopic by American standards. Her dad might just be the tallest blade of grass in a short field, but a police chief was still a police chief. That wasn't nothing.
The previous Bella hadn't known how to use that. She, however, absolutely did. Worst case? Getting on his good side couldn't hurt.
"Fifty… a hundred and five… a hundred sixty…" She counted the bills in her wallet.
It was March 2000. No mobile payments, no credit cards—her predecessor hadn't even opened an account. Just a fat stack of cash.
She walked while she counted and—of course—someone else walked toward her, head down with headphones on. Neither looked up. Both moved fast.
They collided.
A solid thump echoed. Bella was taller, and her chin slammed straight into the girl's forehead.
"Ah—!" Bella staggered back two steps, chin numb, ears ringing. She grabbed the wall before she could fall.
The other girl didn't fare much better. She dropped into a crouch, both hands covering her forehead, looking pained and completely unbothered about dignity. The soft lavender sweater made her look even smaller.
"Sorry, sorry!"
"I'm so sorry!"
They spoke at the same time.
Bella really hadn't been watching where she was going. Out in a strange airport, the last thing she wanted was trouble, so her apology was sincere.
The girl had knocked Bella's wallet clean out of her hands. A flurry of small bills—fives, tens, lots of them—across the floor. Looked like "a lot of money" if you didn't know the denominations. The sight made the girl blush with guilt.
Her family hurried over to help gather the scattered cash.
A middle-aged man even asked if Bella needed a hospital.
Unlike Bella, who was an only child, this was a full American family of five: a couple with three kids—two boys and a girl. The one Bella had collided with was the daughter. The tall young man beside her was likely the older brother. The little boy hugging a toy car, eyes big and bratty, was clearly the youngest.
And the girl… well. She was beautiful.
Even Bella had to admit it.
Her eyes had a natural, effortless allure. Her lips curled just a little at the corners. Smooth, bright skin, a soft youthful glow, a lithe figure. She looked younger than Bella—maybe by a year or two—but already stunning.
The girl rubbed her forehead discreetly, then froze when she looked up and really saw Bella.
Bella's face—pale, delicate, smooth like she woke up wearing moisturizer—was the kind that made people stare. Lips naturally tinted, features soft but sharp in all the right places. A beauty that didn't need makeup. Only the frustration in her brows and that faint sickly pallor softened it.
Two natural beauties colliding in an airport? Statistically impossible. And yet here they were.
"I'm really sorry," Bella said again.
"No, it's my fault. I wasn't watching where I was going."
Total strangers. No need to bond. Bella had enough on her mind. She thanked the family politely and prepared to leave.
"Over there! I see them—grab them!"
A harsh shout echoed behind them.
Bella and the family turned in unison.
Three men and one woman—big, mean, fast—charged toward them from two different terminal corridors.
The family froze. Bella froze too for half a second.
What the hell? Robbers? In an airport? In broad daylight?
Was this the American tradition of "crime but make it dramatic"?
The father instinctively reached for his phone to call the cops, but the attackers closed the distance instantly.
The lead guy, a black-haired brute with a face like a brick wall, swung a giant hand toward Bella's shoulder.
They're coming for me?
Absolutely not.
Bella had prepared for the Marvel world. Defense spray: ready.
She emptied half the can straight into the man's eyes, then followed with the universal weapon of women everywhere—
—the devastating, no-mercy kick.
She had long legs, good aim, and lots of pent-up frustration.
The man folded instantly, rolling on the floor, clutching himself, eyes watering, dignity gone.
Bella barely had time to breathe before a second man rushed her.
Without the element of surprise, she was just a normal girl—no martial arts training, no mystical power-up, no superhero moment. Thankfully, the mother of the family stepped in, and she clearly had trained.
She grabbed the man's punch, pivoted, braced her back—and executed a clean, gorgeous shoulder throw.
Two attackers down in a blink.
Given how dangerous this world was, Bella had mentally prepared herself for anything. A robbery? Sure. Aliens bursting out of the ceiling? Honestly, wouldn't shock her.
The family reacted very differently.
The father hovered, nervous, wanting to intervene but not daring.
The daughter looked thrilled—biting her lip, eyes sparkling, ready to jump in.
The older brother looked dazed.
The little brother was definitely dazed.
With numbers on their side and an airport full of witnesses, things should've been safe.
But the remaining pair—a man and a woman—hesitated only a second. The woman flicked the man a look, then circled wide behind—
—not Bella.
The little boy.
"I got it! Split up!" she yelled. She snatched the toy car straight from the kid's hands and bolted.
Bella: Σ(⊙▽⊙)!!
She was stunned.
You people caused this much chaos… to steal a toy car?
What is wrong with Americans?!
Never mind that the guy she'd kicked had a concealed gun tucked in his waistband.
Even by America's standards, this was weird.
Something was seriously off.