Forgot to include this in the last chapter, but the physical age of the characters are also different. Never made sense to me that anyone would find Carlisle and Esme as believable care takers or parents when they look only a couple years older than their "Children".
Carlisle - 30
Esme - 33
Edward - 20
Bella - 18
Emmett - 21
Rosalie - 19
Jasper - 20
Alice - 17
STEPHENIE MEYER OWNS THE TWILIGHT UNIVERSE AND ALL OF THE CHARACTERS.
There wasn't much about humanity that Edward missed after his transformation. Even during the worst days of his newborn bloodlust, when every fiber of his being craved blood, he never longed to be human again. The frailty, the mundanity, the endless cycle of expectations—it all seemed so trivial in retrospect.
One significant reason for this disdain was his father.
Edward Anthony Masen Sr.
The mere thought of the name stirred an old bitterness within him. Unfortunately, it also made him the Jr.—a title he despised almost as much as the man himself.
His father had been a busy lawyer, perpetually preoccupied with work, too engrossed in his career to spare time for Edward or his mother. Oddly, Edward preferred his father's near-constant absence; the rare instances when he was home were far worse. On those occasions, Edward bore the brunt of his father's critical gaze and endless expectations.
Edward was supposed to achieve the highest marks, to excel in every endeavor, to mirror his father's path by pursuing law and eventually joining a prestigious firm. It was a future meticulously laid out for him, one he had no say in.
As a child, he tried desperately to please his father. He thought that if he worked hard enough, if he followed every instruction and met every expectation, he might finally earn the man's approval—perhaps even his love. But no matter how hard Edward tried, it was never enough. His father's cold indifference never wavered.
When he finally realized the futility of his efforts, Edward stopped trying. He abandoned the notion of becoming the son his father wanted, though he found himself adrift, uncertain of what he truly desired. The only thing he knew for certain was that he didn't want to become his father.
And yet, to claim there was nothing he missed about his humanity would have been a lie.
Elizabeth Masen, his mother, was the one part of his human life he cherished.
She was his constant, his sanctuary. A doting mother to the end, Elizabeth always put Edward's well-being above all else. Her love was unwavering, her presence a source of comfort and stability in a world where his father's approval loomed like an unattainable specter.
The transition to vampirism had robbed him of most of his human memories, but those of his mother endured. Faint though they were, he clung to them like a lifeline. Her soft voice, her gentle touch—these fragments were almost all he had left of her, and he treasured them more than anything else.
The only vivid memory he retained of his father was tied to the day he was told about his engagement.
The arrangement was made without his input, of course. His father had declared it as fact: Edward would marry a young woman his mother adored. She had gushed about the girl endlessly, calling her "perfect" and "splendid." Edward, frustrated by the constant praise, had never asked for further details.
When the time came, Edward had argued vehemently against the engagement. He had no interest in marrying someone he didn't know. Instead, he had his heart set on a different path—joining the war effort. It would have been the first real decision he made for himself, a break from the stifling mold his father had crafted for him.
But his mother's reaction had derailed his plans.
Elizabeth, already frail from the onset of the Spanish flu, had begged him not to go. She pleaded with him, her voice trembling with fear and desperation. Edward, despite his determination, found it impossible to deny her.
When her condition worsened, her pleas became a final, dying wish.
"Promise me, Edward," she had whispered, her voice barely audible as she lay beside her husband, both ravaged by the flu. "Marry her. Live, Edward. Live for me."
How could he refuse her? It was the last thing she ever asked of him.
He agreed, though the decision felt hollow. His father, of course, was pleased, but Edward couldn't have cared less about that. The promise was for his mother, and she was the only one who mattered.
None of it mattered for long.
Edward contracted the flu soon after. His memories of those final days were fragmented, blurred by the agony of his failing body. Two faces, however, remained crystal clear.
One belonged to Dr. Carlisle Cullen, the man who would ultimately save him with immortality.
The other was the face of the young woman he had promised to marry.
He never learned her name, but her presence lingered in his fragmented recollections. Even in his fevered haze, he had noticed her beauty. She was, without question, the most stunning woman he had ever seen. Yet it was her expression that struck him most—genuine worry etched into her delicate features.
Edward hadn't understood why she cared. They were strangers, bound only by the expectations of others. But in those moments, when he believed his parents were already dead and his life was slipping away, her concern had been a strange, bittersweet comfort.
And then everything changed.
The agony of the transformation consumed him, erasing nearly everything that came before it. For years, he didn't think of her. She was a relic of a life that no longer belonged to him, an echo from a world he had left behind.
Yet here he was, nearly a century later, standing face-to-face with her—or someone who looked impossibly, eerily like her.
The same heart-shaped face. The same full, pouty lips. The same hauntingly beautiful eyes that seemed to peer into his very soul.
It shouldn't have been possible.
But as he gazed at her, frozen in a moment of disbelief, one thought echoed in his mind with unrelenting clarity.
How is this possible?
The girl standing before Edward began to look at him with a mixture of confusion and unease, her brows furrowed as if trying to decipher what exactly was wrong with him. To her, his odd, almost frozen expression was likely unnerving. He had been staring for far too long, his thoughts a tangled web of disbelief and fragmented memory.
"Are you alright?" she asked hesitantly, her voice soft but laced with concern. She took a cautious step toward him, as though unsure whether she should approach or retreat.
Edward blinked, the motion bringing him out of his reverie. Was she seriously asking if I was alright? The irony wasn't lost on him.
"I believe that's my line, don't you?" he replied, his brow arching in faint amusement.
The girl flushed a delicate shade of pink, her embarrassment evident. "Sorry," she mumbled, glancing down at the ground for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "It's just… well, there were three guys, and they looked… dangerous. Then you showed up, and you were all alone, and I thought things might get—" She cut herself off abruptly, her cheeks now a vivid crimson. "Well, you know..."
Edward tilted his head slightly, suppressing the urge to laugh at her endearing rambling. "Ah, I see," he said smoothly. "Well, I assure you, I was more than capable of handling the situation myself." There was a hint of smugness in his tone, though he didn't bother to hide it.
Her reaction was immediate—a relieved sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly as though a weight had been lifted. "I'm glad," she said earnestly. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't shown up when you did."
Edward grimaced inwardly, the vivid possibilities of what could have happened flashing through his mind. It was a good thing she would never have to experience such horrors firsthand. "Yes," he replied tightly, forcing a polite smile. "It's a good thing I arrived in time."
Yet standing here, talking to her, felt like torture. She was a living, breathing reminder of a part of his human life he had buried long ago and seeing her now stirred emotions he didn't want to revisit.
"Well, I should get going," Edward said abruptly, his voice brisk and controlled. "Those men won't trouble you again, I promise. You should carry on with whatever plans you had for tonight."
He turned to leave, eager to distance himself from her and the memories she stirred, but another gentle tug on the back of his coat stopped him.
"Wait," she said softly, her tone apologetic.
Edward paused, inhaling deeply to steady himself before turning back to her. Her wide eyes met his, filled with an innocence that disarmed him.
"I'm sorry to bother you," she began shyly, "I… kind of got lost while running from them. I just took off and kept going, and now I have no idea where I am." She bit her lip, clearly embarrassed. "I don't know Port Angeles very well, and I was supposed to meet my friends at a restaurant, but…" She trailed off, her voice faltering.
Edward stared at her for a long moment, conflicted. He didn't want to prolong this interaction any more than necessary. Yet for some inexplicable reason, he couldn't bring himself to deny her request. Perhaps it was the faint echo of nostalgia, the fleeting resemblance she bore to someone who had been dead to him for over a century.
He forced a tight smile. "It wouldn't be a problem at all," he said, his voice polite but distant.
The girl's face lit up with a radiant smile, and for a moment, Edward was struck silent. It was, perhaps, the most genuine and heartwarming expression he had ever seen.
"Thank you so much," she said earnestly. "I really owe you. I mean, I'd probably still be running if it weren't for you—and I wouldn't trust my self-defense skills to save me, that's for sure." She laughed awkwardly, a self-deprecating humor shining through her words.
Edward's lips twitched upward despite himself. "You can thank me by telling me your name," he said smoothly. "After all, I'll need something to call you while I escort you to...?" He let the question hang, prompting her to fill in the blank.
"Oh!" She blinked, realization dawning as she hurried to answer. "Bella Italia," she said quickly, then added in a softer voice, "And my name is Bella."
Edward chuckled lightly. "Bella. And you're headed to Bella Italia? Now that's a coincidence if I've ever heard one." He gestured down the sidewalk. "Come on, I'm sure your friends are worried about you."
He turned and began walking, his strides purposeful. He knew the layout of Port Angeles well enough to navigate it without effort. Still, he found himself wishing the walk would end quickly. Being near her was stirring long-buried memories, and he hated the disquiet it brought.
After a short stretch of silence, she fell into step beside him. "What's your name?" she asked, her tone curious but cautious.
The question caught Edward off guard. He wasn't used to being surprised in conversation, having spent decades hearing people's thoughts before they even spoke. The experience was unsettling yet oddly refreshing.
"Edward," he answered after a beat. "Edward Masen."
As she looked up at him, she noticed something around his neck. She squinted in the dim light and saw a ring hanging from a chain—a striking emerald ring with a gold band.
"That's a beautiful ring," she complimented, pointing at it.
He glanced down and remembered the ring, which had been with him for so long that he sometimes forgot it was there. It felt like an extension of himself at this point.
"Thank you; it was my mother's ring." A sad smile crossed his face as he spoke.
His mother was a painful subject, even after nearly a century of being a vampire. It was something he had yet to truly come to terms with.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring that up—" Bella began to apologize profusely, clearly aware that the topic was sensitive.
"No, it's fine." He raised a hand to stop her. "I miss her, but trust me, it's been a long time. I'm more or less over it."
She nodded. "You must have loved her a lot."
"More than anything," he admitted, a fond smile lighting up his face.
He held onto the few cherished memories he had of her from his human life.
"That must be nice," Bella muttered, more to herself than to him.
"So, I take it you don't get along with your mother?" he asked.
"You heard that?" She whipped her head around, blushing. She hadn't expected him to catch her barely whispered comment.
"I have good ears," Edward shrugged, amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Well, I don't know... talking about my mom is complicated. Especially now," she replied reluctantly.
"Well, we're still a bit away from the restaurant. It wouldn't hurt to get it off your chest."
"Do you really want to hear me ramble about how my life has been falling apart?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Well, you did pique my interest, especially with all the emphasis on the 'especially now' part," he teased.
Edward had never cared much for hearing people's stories; he usually picked them apart through their thoughts. But with Bella, he found himself drawn to learn everything about her. She was a mystery in every sense.
"I guess I did it to myself, didn't I?" she said, blushing.
"You're stalling," he remarked playfully.
"Okay, fine." She sighed dramatically and began to explain her move to Forks.
It fascinated him to learn about her life from her perspective rather than through a barrage of thoughts. A part of him enjoyed the mystery and unpredictability, yet not knowing what would come next was a new frustration after nearly a century of omniscience.
As she continued, her story painted a rather sad picture. Her mother was neglectful at best, oblivious to even the bare minimum of parental responsibilities. Edward questioned the thought process of this 'Renee' character when Bella mentioned having to pick up cooking at a young age after her mother had set the kitchen on fire while attempting dinner. Bella had also taken on the burden of cleaning up after her mother, who lacked motivation.
What amazed Edward was that he couldn't trace a single ounce of malice in her words. Bella didn't harbor any resentment or hatred for her childhood; instead, her love and devotion to her mother made him admire her character even more.
Her relationship with her father was only slightly better. While he seemed to care more, she still felt neglected for the most part, often left to her own devices after arriving in Forks unless he wanted her to tag along with his activities. Edward frowned when Bella voiced her initial thoughts of being able to relax more with Charlie, only to find herself doing most of the house chores.
As she spoke about her social life, he gathered that she had a small group of friends at school, but she chose not to socialize with them outside of class. Ironically, the one time she tried to make an effort to connect, she ended up almost dead not even thirty minutes ago.
"Why did you come out to Port Angeles if you don't usually hang out with your friends?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"The truth is, I wanted to go to a bookstore around here, and uh..." She blushed before continuing. "Well, I got lost, and you know the rest."
He enjoyed her blush; it made her even more beautiful. Her cheeks and nose brightened with that shade of red, complementing her freckles perfectly.
"I hope you found the book you were looking for," he said.
"I did, actually," she replied, her expression turning somber.
"Then what's with the long face?" he questioned.
"I sort of lost it," she mumbled, looking down at her shoes as they reached a crosswalk.
"And how did you manage that?"
His confusion only deepened as he struggled to read her next thoughts. In moments like these, he wished he could penetrate the veil of her mind.
"Well, those guys were chasing me, and I had the book in my hands, so..." She paused, biting her lip.
"You dropped it out there somewhere?" He finished for her. That seemed the only logical explanation, and he was quite pleased with himself for figuring it out.
"I wish. The truth is far more embarrassing," she confessed.
"It can't be that bad," he encouraged, intrigued.
"I sort of threw it at them," she admitted awkwardly after a brief silence.
It took a moment for his vampire brain to process that, but he had to stifle a laugh.
"Well, that was... unexpected." The corner of his lips twitched upward.
If it were anyone else, he might have assumed it was a reasonable reaction, but Isabella Swan was anything but ordinary. His inability to read her thoughts only added to her uniqueness.
"Well, now you see why I didn't want to say it," she admitted, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of crimson. "It's mortifying, especially since I missed and didn't hit anything."
Edward couldn't help but let out a laugh. It felt slightly wrong to find humor in her predicament, especially considering the seriousness of the situation. Still, the image of her trying to throw a book at three potential attackers—and missing—was too amusing to resist. It was a peculiar moment of levity amidst the darkness they had just escaped.
"Hey, don't laugh at my expense!" Bella pouted, crossing her arms over her chest, though a hint of a smile tugged at her lips.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to stifle his laughter. "I really wasn't expecting to find it so funny, but it just kept getting worse with every detail you shared."
"Rub it in some more, why don't you?" she shot back, though the playful glint in her eyes betrayed her feigned annoyance. Edward's easy charm and the warmth of his laughter made it difficult for her to stay upset. It was disarming, and she found herself drawn to him in a way she hadn't anticipated.
"So, what book did you sacrifice tonight, anyway?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Wuthering Heights," she replied, a mixture of pride and embarrassment in her voice.
"Well, then, there was no need to be so embarrassed; you practically did yourself a favor," he teased with a grin that lit up his face.
Bella noticed the slight flicker of surprise in his expression, a hint that he was not indifferent to the book's literary significance. It confirmed her suspicion that he might hold a deeper appreciation for literature than he let on.
"There's no way you don't like Wuthering Heights!" she exclaimed, her tone almost accusatory as if it were a crime for him to dislike such a classic.
"There are better works out there," he replied, shrugging nonchalantly, though a glimmer of mischief danced in his eyes.
"But it's a classic!" she insisted, her voice rising in disbelief. "I knew you were too perfect to be true."
"You think I'm perfect?" Edward's grin widened, a playful challenge in his gaze. Bella felt her cheeks heat up again at the compliment.
"I wasn't supposed to say that out loud," she cursed herself, feeling flustered. "Well, it doesn't matter because I don't think you're perfect now."
"Ouch." He placed a hand dramatically over his heart, feigning injury. "If anything, that's the part you should have kept to yourself."
"Well, I'm not taking it back," she huffed, turning her face away, though her smile betrayed her.
As they continued walking, Bella suddenly felt herself lifted off her feet by a pair of icy hands. A shriek escaped her lips, a mix of surprise and delight.
"Careful! You almost walked into a pole trying to prove your point," Edward chuckled, his laughter warm and inviting. "I must say, that's a different level of stubbornness."
She turned her head back just in time to see the light pole she would have collided with if not for his quick reflexes. This time, she could have ended up with a bruised nose or worse.
"God, I couldn't even go one night without being a klutz," she said, turning to look up at him with a sheepish smile that lit up her face.
"That's fine; I find it amusing," Edward smirked, the corner of his mouth twitching up as he continued walking.
"Glad I can amuse you," she rolled her eyes, hurrying to keep pace with his long strides, her heart racing from the thrill of their banter and the adrenaline of the evening's events.
"Well, you're certainly not the worst company; you might be the only company I've enjoyed in a long time," he remarked, his tone sincere.
"Thanks, I guess?" Bella replied, taking his comment as a compliment. A warm feeling spread through her, and she couldn't help but smile wider.
A comfortable silence settled between them as they walked side by side. With each step, she felt herself inching closer to him, as if pulled by an invisible force. It was an exhilarating feeling, and to her delight, he didn't seem to mind the intrusion into his personal space.
"Hey, you never said what you were doing here tonight," Bella prompted, her curiosity piqued.
Edward hesitated, the weight of the question pressing against his mind like a heavy stone. He couldn't afford to be truthful—how could he explain the darkness that defined him? That his survival depended on feeding from the blood of those society ignored? The thought of revealing his true nature sent a ripple of unease through him, a fear not for himself but for her reaction. Would she flee if she knew what he was? And why did that prospect unsettle him so deeply?
When he first intervened, his sole intention had been to distance himself from her as quickly as possible. She was a living reminder of his human past—a life he had long since buried. Yet now, with every word she spoke, every fleeting expression that crossed her face, the walls he had so carefully constructed began to crack. He found himself less repelled by the memories she stirred and more drawn to her inexplicable presence.
Conflicted, he offered a vague answer. "Just wandering around, enjoying the night," he said, his tone light and nonchalant, though the faint tension in his voice betrayed him. "It's nice to get a change of scenery sometimes." He paired his words with a small, practiced smile, hoping she wouldn't probe further.
"Really?" she replied, tilting her head as though trying to uncover a mystery. "Just wandering? You don't seem like the type. You've got this… intensity about you."
Her observation, so casually delivered, sent a flicker of warmth through him, an unfamiliar sensation he couldn't quite place. "Maybe I'm just full of surprises," he said with a faint smirk, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip through his usually composed demeanor.
"That you are, Edward Masen." Bella grinned; her teasing tone accompanied by a soft laugh. "I mean, your opinions on books were definitely unexpected."
Edward chuckled, the sound low and warm. She had a way of making him forget himself, even if only for fleeting moments. But as they neared the restaurant, the weight of reality settled back over him. He reminded himself that this moment, however strange and enthralling, was temporary.
From across the street, a girl waved enthusiastically, breaking the spell. "Bella!" she called, her voice carrying over the sound of distant traffic. She hurried toward them, her expression shifting between relief and curiosity.
"I assume that's one of your friends?" Edward asked, arching a brow.
Bella sighed, a mix of amusement and resignation in her expression. "Jessica," she confirmed. "She's sort of…" She trailed off, searching for the right words.
"No need to explain," Edward interjected smoothly. "I can gather enough on my own."
Jessica's thoughts hit him like a barrage. God, he's gorgeous. Where did Bella, of all people, find him?
The faint disdain laced through her thoughts sparked an unexpected irritation in Edward. He couldn't explain why it bothered him, but it did.
"Bella, where have you been?" Jessica demanded breathlessly as she skidded to a halt in front of them. "We've been calling you for, like, forever! And who is this?" Her gaze flicked to Edward, lingering with a blatant interest that only added to his annoyance.
"Sorry, my phone died," Bella replied, stepping subtly closer to Edward as though seeking an unspoken sense of reassurance. "And this is Edward. He helped me find the restaurant after I got lost."
"Typical Bella," Jessica giggled, though the edge in her tone didn't escape Edward's notice. "Always getting yourself into trouble one way or another."
Another girl approached, her pace slower but her demeanor far more genuine. "Bella, I'm so glad you made it here safely!"
"Hey, Angela," Bella greeted warmly, pulling her into a quick hug.
Edward immediately liked this one more. Though her thoughts were still tinged with curiosity about him—what human wouldn't be drawn to a vampire?—there was no undercurrent of jealousy or malice. Angela genuinely cared for Bella, and that authenticity softened Edward's initial apprehension.
"We were waiting for you so we could go in," Angela said, her voice kind. "Now that you're here, we can finally eat. Do you want to join us?" She directed the question at Edward, her tone polite but lacking the flirtatiousness Jessica had displayed.
Edward shook his head, ignoring the pang of disappointment that flickered across Bella's face. "No, I don't think that would be a good idea," he said, his voice as polite as his refusal.
"Oh, but you should!" Jessica interjected, leaning closer to him in a way that made him instinctively pull back.
"Leave him alone, Jessica," Angela said firmly, grabbing her arm and gently pulling her back. "If he doesn't want to join, that's his choice."
"Anyway," Edward began, turning his attention back to Bella. "It was a pleasure meeting you, even if the circumstances weren't exactly ideal."
Bella smiled, her eyes reflecting a warmth he hadn't expected. "It was great to meet you too, Edward."
With a brief, awkward nod toward the group, Edward turned and walked away, his steps purposeful. Behind him, he could hear Jessica and Angela peppering Bella with questions, but he tuned them out. His focus had shifted entirely to a darker task.
It didn't take him long to find the men. Their scent lingered heavily a few blocks away, mingled with the stench of stale alcohol and fear.
"You know," Edward said, his voice cold as he stepped into the alley where they loitered, "when I told you to leave, I meant far away."
One of the men, emboldened by his companions, sneered. "You think you're tough, huh? You can't take us all on."
Edward's expression didn't waver. With blinding speed, he closed the distance between them, his hand snapping out to grab the man's face. With a sickening crack, the man crumpled to the ground.
"Oops," Edward said, his tone dripping with mockery. He glanced at the remaining two. "Who's next?"
They bolted, but Edward was on them in an instant, dispatching the second with swift efficiency. The last one, Lonnie, fell to his knees, trembling.
"Please," Lonnie begged, his voice shaking. "I don't want any trouble."
Edward leaned closer, his emerald eyes shifting to a chilling crimson, the white sclera turning an inky black. His grin revealed gleaming teeth, sharp and menacing.
"What are you?" Lonnie whimpered.
Edward tilted his head, studying him with cold detachment. "Don't worry. I won't drain you. You're not worth the effort."
The words offered no comfort, and Edward stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "But I want you to feel fear, just as she did."
Lonnie sobbed, scrambling backward. "I'll never do it again. Please, just let me go."
Edward paused, pretending to consider. Then he nodded. "Fine. Run."
Lonnie didn't hesitate, bolting down the street. He didn't make it far before Edward appeared behind him, his hand piercing through the man's chest.
"I changed my mind," Edward murmured, his tone devoid of remorse.
Lonnie slumped to the ground, lifeless, as Edward straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve. His face returned to its human-like appearance, but the disgust lingering in his expression was unshakable.