𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 ─── ❝ do you ever feel like the universe is just screaming at you to do something? ❞
rosalie hale 𝔁 fem!oc 𝔁 emmett cullen
based off the movies
pre-twilight
began; 9.2.24
posted; 9.5.24
finis...
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A/N: please don't be a ghost reader! out of 7.2k reads i've only gotten 24 comments. please tell me what your thoughts are, and if your liking the story so far!
𝗔𝗣𝗥𝗜𝗟 𝟯𝗥𝗗, 𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟰 — 𝗦𝗣𝗢𝗞𝗔𝗡𝗘, 𝗪𝗔𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗧𝗢𝗡
𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗥𝗬
"𝗜 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗞 𝗜'𝗠 𝗚𝗢𝗡𝗡𝗔 𝗧𝗨𝗖𝗞 in early tonight," Della muttered softly, her voice barely audible over the gentle clinking of dishes. She methodically dried the final plate from the sink, her movements slow and deliberate as if trying to prolong the simple task. With a small sigh, she carefully placed the dish back in its designated spot in the cabinet, her fingers lingering on the smooth surface for a moment longer than necessary.
"Alright, sweetie," Heather responded, her eyes lifting from the magazine spread before her to study her daughter's face. A flicker of concern passed over her features as she noticed the slight slump in Della's shoulders. "You sure the appointment went okay? You seem a bit... off."
"Yeah," Della nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly. She paused, then repeated with forced casualness, "Yeah, it went fine. I'm just tired. You know how these things can be... all that waiting around and stuff." She attempted a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
"If you say so," Heather replied, her tone carrying a hint of skepticism that she couldn't entirely mask. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she searched her daughter's face for any signs of distress or dishonesty. Finding nothing concrete to justify her unease, she conceded with a small nod. "Goodnight, then. Sleep well."
"Goodnight," Della returned, mustering a small but genuine smile for her mother. She turned away, taking a few hesitant steps towards her room. The floorboards creaked softly under her feet, each step seeming to carry the weight of unspoken words. With a final glance back at her mother, Della slipped into her bedroom, the door closing behind her with a soft click that seemed to echo in the sudden silence.
Heather remained motionless for a long moment after Della's departure, her ears straining to catch any sounds from her daughter's room. The house settled into an uneasy quiet, broken only by the distant ticking of the kitchen clock. With a deep sigh, Heather leaned back in her wooden dining chair, the aged wood groaning slightly under her weight. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity, drifted towards Della's closed door.
Minutes ticked by, feeling like hours to Heather as she sat in contemplative silence. Her gaze eventually wandered from Della's door to the table before her, where it landed on her daughter's bag. The innocuous object seemed to call out to her, promising answers to the questions that swirled in her mind. Heather's hand twitched, inching towards the bag before she caught herself and pulled back.
