𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐎𝐑𝐍 ➻ 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

𝘁𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁𝘆 𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁

THE FLIGHT BACK TO AMERICA WAS LONG, the hours stretching like an endless loop of time. Anastasia barely spoke, her gaze fixed out the small window as the clouds parted and Seattle's grey skyline came into view. She could feel the weight of her thoughts pressing down on her chest, each one heavier than the last. Returning to this city, to this life, felt like a betrayal.

But more than that, it felt like walking back into a place where she had lost herself—lost her sense of who she was before everything had fallen apart.

The plane landed with a soft thud, and the moment they touched down, reality began to sink in. Her chest tightened, a slow, steady panic creeping up on her. She didn't want to go back to Seattle. Not yet, not after everything. Not after the peace she'd found in the small village in England, where the world had seemed quiet and kind, where she had been able to breathe without the constant looming sense of danger, fear, and grief.

But now, back in the United States, back in the place that had held so many memories of pain, of loss—she couldn't avoid it any longer.

Carlisle had been silent throughout the flight, his face unreadable. He'd always been good at hiding his emotions, wearing his calm like armour. But she knew him too well to miss the subtle tension in his jaw, the way he occasionally stared out the window as if searching for something in the sky.

As they disembarked, the world around them seemed to press in harder. The cold Seattle air hit her face like a slap, and she pulled her coat tighter around herself. Carlisle walked beside her, but she felt the space between them growing as the reality of what was about to happen settled over her.

They were going their separate ways.

"I'm going to go back to Forks," Carlisle said, his voice low. "I'm going to check on my family, make sure everything is in place after... the battle." He paused, glancing at her. "You don't have to come with me."

Anastasia nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. She'd known this moment was coming. She had known that once the battle was over, once the Cullens had won against the newborns, Carlisle would return to them. His family. His responsibility.

She had expected it. But somehow, hearing him say it aloud made it all feel final. The separation between them, between the life she had tried to leave behind and the life she had tried to build with him in England—it felt impossible to bridge.

"Forks..." Anastasia's voice was a mere whisper, barely audible over the noise of the bustling airport. Her heart clenched as she thought about the town she had spent so many summers in as a child. The place that had once felt like a second home, where the air had smelled like pine trees and the days had been long and full of light.

But then her grandma had died. And that place, once so full of warmth and love, had become a reminder of everything she had lost. Her grandmother, the woman who had then been her only family, her only anchor—gone. And she had been there, lying beside her in the small, old house in Forks, when the life had slipped from her grandmother's body. She had been there in the darkness of the night, feeling as if her own heart had stopped in that moment.

Forks had become a place of ghosts for her. A place of unbearable memories.

"I can't go back to Forks, Carlisle," she whispered, her voice breaking just a little. "It's too much. It's too painful."

Carlisle's expression softened, his hand briefly brushing against hers. "I know. And I understand. You don't have to go if you're not ready. I won't ask you to."

But even as the words left his lips, she could feel the pull. The pull to be with him. To be near him, even if it meant confronting the ghosts of her past.

"I want to go with you," she said, the words coming out in a rush, almost as if she could convince herself by saying them aloud. "I want to be with you, Carlisle. I just... I need to overcome it. I need to face it."

Carlisle gave her a careful look, studying her with those deep, wise eyes. "I won't push you, Anastasia. But if you want to come back with me, I'll be right there with you. We'll face it together."

Her throat tightened. The idea of returning to Forks—the town that had once been a sanctuary in her childhood, but now felt like an insane asylum—was terrifying. But the idea of living without him, of never seeing him again, was even worse. She could feel the war within her—her heart pulling her one way, her mind pulling her another.

"I've spent so much of my time running from what happened there," she said, her voice still sounded small to her own ears. "But I don't want to keep running anymore. I want to face it. I want to be with you."

Carlisle nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Then we'll do this together. We'll go back. And when we do, we'll make sure it's not just a place of pain for you. We'll make it a place where you can find peace."

Anastasia felt a flicker of hope, though it was small. It felt fragile, like a candle in the wind. But it was there, and it was enough to keep her moving forward.

As they walked out of the airport, the cool Seattle air greeted them like an old acquaintance, neither warm nor welcoming. The hum of city life surrounded them—people rushing, cars honking, the constant noise that had always been part of this city. For a moment, it felt like time had circled back, like nothing had changed. But it had. So much had changed.

And she wasn't sure if she was ready to face it all, but she was going to try.

For him.

For herself.

And for the life they could still build, despite the scars of the past.