𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 ➻ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝘀𝗶𝘅

THE WEEKS THAT FOLLOWED THEIR ARRIVAL IN THE QUIET VILLAGE WERE A BLUR OF NEW ROUTINES, slow conversations, and tentative steps toward rebuilding what had been shattered. Carlisle gave her space—respecting her need to process, to heal—and though they spoke often, it was never rushed. Each day, she found herself waking up to a world that felt foreign, yet somehow safe in a way that she hadn't known in years.

The cottage, nestled at the edge of the village, felt like a sanctuary. Its walls were thick with history, the wooden beams above and the stone walls below offering a quiet refuge from the world outside. The village itself was a peaceful place—a place where time seemed to move at a slower pace. The streets were empty during the mornings and early afternoons, the residents polite but distant. The simplicity of it all was a welcome change from the chaos and tension she had left behind in Seattle.

Carlisle had done his best to ease her into this new life, though she could feel the weight of the decisions he'd made pressing on him. He had been careful, thoughtful, but his watchful eyes never strayed far from her. He seemed to know when she needed him near and when she needed to be left alone. The calmness in him was both reassuring and frustrating, because he had always been the steady one between them, the one who seemed to have everything figured out. But now, it was her turn to rebuild that steadiness.

Anastasia didn't know what to make of this strange peace that seemed to settle over them. She hadn't been able to completely let go of the hurt, but she was trying. Carlisle had given her the space to decide for herself how much of the past she wanted to revisit. And so far, she had taken small steps forward, inching closer to the parts of herself she had locked away.

It wasn't easy, though.

One evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills and the sky was painted in hues of purple and orange, they sat together on the back porch of the cottage. The air was cool and crisp, with the faint scent of earth and pine lingering in the breeze. Carlisle leaned back in his chair, eyes fixed on the fading light, while Anastasia stared into the distance, trying to clear her mind.

"Do you ever miss it?" she asked suddenly, the words slipping out before she could stop them.

"Miss what?" Carlisle's voice was low, calm, and despite the quietness, there was a hint of concern behind it.

"Being... human." She didn't look at him when she said it. She knew he wasn't human anymore, and it felt wrong to ask the question. But the curiosity had been gnawing at her ever since she found his secret.

Carlisle was silent for a long moment, the only sound being the rustle of the trees in the breeze. "I used to," he said softly. "I hated myself for what I was, a monster. And there were moments in the early years when I wondered what my life would have been like if I had stayed human. If I had grown old with someone, had children of my own..."

He paused, as though the weight of those words still carried something far heavier than time itself.

And for a moment, his brows furrowed, as though he was taken to another time in his life, and his eyes softened. "But I've learned to live with what I am now. I've learned to find peace in it, despite the darkest parts I find in it. I don't miss the life I could have had because this one has its own rewards, its own purpose. What we do with the time we're given, the lives we touch... that's what matters."

Anastasia nodded slowly, though she wasn't entirely sure she understood what he meant. The ache in her chest told her otherwise, but she remained quiet. They had talked about many things since their arrival: memories, mistakes, and the long stretches of time that had passed since their last conversation. But there were still things she couldn't say. Things she wasn't ready to confront, things that lingered in the back of her mind like ghosts.

Carlisle seemed to sense the distance between them, though he didn't press her. "You don't have to talk about it now," he said, his voice warm and patient. "I'm here when you're ready."

And just like that, the air around them lightened. There was no rush. No expectation. She could feel his willingness to wait for her, to let her decide how quickly or slowly they moved forward.

The next few days passed in a similar quiet rhythm, though there were moments, brief glimpses of past joy and laughter perhaps, when it felt like things might be falling back into place. Carlisle made efforts to show her parts of the village, introducing her to the few people who lived there whom he had met a few years ago upon his previous travels, all of them kind and welcoming. He even took her to a nearby forest one afternoon, where they wandered through the tall pines, the ground soft moulding beneath their feet.

But despite all the small steps they were taking, there was still a heavy shadow hanging over her. She knew that Carlisle had not told her everything—that there was still the matter of Victoria and her newborn army. She didn't know when the battle would come, or what exactly would happen when it did, but she could sense the underlying tension in Carlisle whenever the subject came up. She could feel the quiet way he sometimes lingered over his phone or his thoughts, as though he was waiting for something to happen.

There was one evening when he came to her after dinner, his expression serious and distant as he placed his phone upon a table. "I need to tell you something," he began, his voice lower than usual.

Anastasia felt her heart rate pick up at the sound of the words. She set down the glass of water she had been drinking and stood up, her stomach twisting with anxiety. She knew this wasn't going to be easy.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice soft, though she could feel the tension building in her chest.

"It's about the newborn army." Carlisle's eyes darkened, and she could see the weight of it in his expression. "Victoria is moving closer to Forks, they'll be there any day."

Anastasia felt a chill crawl down her spine at his words. "What does that mean for us?"

Carlisle's gaze softened, though there was an underlying urgency to his voice. "It means we need to prepare in case they do emerge victorious against our family. And if they do... you... you need to stay out of the way. I can't risk losing you again, not.. not like before."

Her throat tightened as the weight of it all sank in. The safety of this cottage, the peace she had found here, had always been temporary. The danger was real, and if they defeated the Cullens it was only a matter of time before it reached them. But even then, as the storm clouds gathered on the horizon, she found herself unwilling to pull away from him, unwilling to abandon the fragile bond they were building.

"If they come, I'll stay close," she whispered, her voice small but resolute. "I'll stay with you, no matter what."

Carlisle's eyes softened. "And you must know that if they do, I will do everything in my power to protect you, Anastasia. But you must trust me. Trust that I'll keep you safe. Please."

For the first time in a long while, Anastasia believed in his words. She didn't know what the future held, but in this moment, with him by her side, she was willing to face whatever came. Together.

And as the evening sky darkened above them, they stood in the doorway of the cottage, watching the wind whip through the trees, knowing that if the storm was coming, they would face it together.