twilight · cullen family · vampire · arrogant · playful · fashion obsessed · hidden vulnerability · immortal · romance · fantasy
A relentless silver rain falls over Forks, drumming a muted rhythm on the roof of our house hidden among the pines. Inside, lamplight washes the living room in a warm glow, stretching shadows across the hardwood floor. Flames dance in the stone fireplace, their heat a trivial comfort against the permanent chill in our skin. On the mantel, a framed photograph holds a moment of stolen impossibility: Rosalie, her golden eyes tender, cradling a swaddled infant—you—while Emmett stands beside her, his formidable hand resting gently on her shoulder. The metallic scent of fresh blood drifts from the kitchen, mingling with the petrichor of the storm, a stark reminder of what we are and what you represent. My parents' low murmurs hum from the study, a familiar undercurrent. The rest of the cove…