A few long days later, I find myself standing in front of my closet, running my fingers along the hangers, eyes scanning for something that will make me feel like I belong. The first day of school—my first day ever—has finally arrived. The thought of walking through those halls, surrounded by teenage humans, makes my stomach twist. But it's necessary. If I want to get close to Isabella Swan, this is how it starts.

I pull out an off-the-shoulder, tight crop top and pair it with my favorite worn-in jeans, the ones that fit just right. The reflection staring back at me doesn't seem real, but I'm grateful for the distraction. It's a small victory that I look decent over the sea of swirling thoughts in my head. The perks of being a vampire, I suppose.

I let my curling iron slide through my hair, curling random pieces to enhance the natural wave. A little extra volume here, a little bounce there—enough to make me feel better about myself, even if just for a moment.

It doesn't take much to look good, but sometimes, it's the little things that keep my mind from spiraling. Especially when the thoughts that keep resurfacing are about her—about Isabella.

I take a deep breath, exhaling slowly as I swipe on a bit of lip gloss. I'm already past the point of needing to impress anyone. But getting close to Isabella... that's important. And school, of all places, will give me the easiest access to her.

Our cover story is simple and Luka and Mags will play their parts, of course. To the outside world, they're the older siblings who took in their orphaned little sister after our parents died in a fire in Boston. That's the story we'll tell. On the inside, though, we know better.

But none of that matters right now. I wonder what Isabella is like. I do not have to wonder how she feels when she thinks of them- when she thinks of Edward. I remember all too well the hollowness that came with the distance from my mate, the deep ache that settled inside me. That emptiness, that sense of longing, that raw pain that claws at you when the bond is broken.

I shift my weight, grabbing my jacket, but the thought hangs in the air like a storm cloud. It only affects one of us. And I can't shake the thought: Why? Why did the Cullen men reject their mates? What's wrong with them? I'm sure it's not the diet—though, that's another very strange, unnatural choice they've made. But there's something off, something deeply wrong in the way they live their lives.

I can't deny it—I'm curious about her. I have to know. I have to understand how a human can live with such a deep, invisible pain. How does she handle it? How will I handle it if I get too close? Will we be able to relate to one another? Find comfort? Will she feel the ache, the same crushing emptiness I carry with me? Or will it be different for her—less intense, more manageable?

I close my eyes, shaking my head, trying to push these thoughts out of my mind. They've been rattling around for days now, like a constant hum in the back of my head. But there's no time to dwell on them—not right now. Because there's something else I keep focusing on.

The Cullen house.

I don't know where it is exactly, but I can feel its pull, like a magnetic force that tugs at my very being. I know they've been in town recently, and I can sense their presence nearby. It's the closest I've been to him—to him—in over eighty years, and my instincts flare to life with the familiar ache in my chest. Without thinking, I turn on my heel, and my body moves before I can stop it.

I leap out of my window, my feet hitting the ground with barely a sound. The wind ruffles through my hair, and I don't pause to look back. The night air is cold on my skin, but it doesn't matter. I can feel him—the Cullen family—drawing nearer, even if only by proximity. And it's enough to set my heart racing.

Mags and Luka are standing in the yard, their conversation halting as they notice my sudden movement. Luka's voice cuts through the quiet night like a knife.

"Clara!"

I barely register the sound of his voice before I'm already sprinting, my legs carrying me swiftly over the uneven ground. I don't slow down, not for a second. I know what they'll say. I know how they'll feel. But it doesn't matter. There's a pull—a need—to be near them. More like him.

I call back to Luka without breaking my stride, the words slipping from my mouth almost instinctively. "I'm going to school! I'll be home this afternoon!"

I can feel Luka watching me, his concern a weight on my back. But I don't look back.

~~

The cool morning air is thick with the scent of damp earth and pine as I move through the outskirts of town, my steps nearly silent against the leaf-covered trail. The world around me is quiet, save for the distant rustling of branches and the occasional hoot of an owl. But then—

I stop.

A scent lingers in the air, faint but unmistakable. My breath catches, and before I can stop myself, I take a deeper inhale. The familiarity of it slams into me like a forceful wave, freezing me in place.

Edward Cullen.

It's old, faded—barely more than a whisper on the wind. But it's the first real sign of the Cullens I've encountered in over eighty years. The first tangible proof that they were here, that they walked this ground, that they existed outside of the ghosts in my memory.

For a moment, instinct wars within me. The deeply ingrained self-preservation I've developed since my time with them tells me to turn around. To walk away. To stop chasing things that hurt. But another part of me, one I've buried for decades, stirs awake.

I hope I smell him.

The thought comes unbidden, unfiltered, and I hate myself for it.

With clenched fists, I push forward, moving faster now, following the trail much like I had all those years ago. My movements are precise, my steps deliberate. The scent is too faint to track properly, but it guides me in the right direction, pulling me forward with the kind of magnetic pull I wish I could resist.

Minutes later, I reach the end of the path and find myself at the base of a long, winding driveway. My gaze lifts, and there it is—their home.

The Cullen house looms ahead, standing against the backdrop of towering trees. The modern design is unmistakable—sharp, clean lines of glass and wood, the massive windows reflecting the dense greenery that surrounds it. The structure is elegant yet strong, balanced perfectly between nature and something distinctly unnatural.

I can see Esme in it. Her touch is everywhere—the carefully chosen angles, the seamless blend between man-made and organic. She built this house to be a home.

That realization hurts more than I want it to.

I don't move closer. I don't have to.

Instead, I stand at the edge of their world, letting my senses stretch outward. My nostrils flare as I breathe in deeply, hoping—dreading—that I might catch the one scent I truly crave.

And then, I do.

Faint. Barely there. But enough.

Carlisle.

I fall to my knees. My fingers reach up and grasp at the hole in my chest. A sharp, well known but unwelcome ache unfurls in my chest, and I press my lips together to keep from gasping. The scent is old, like Edward's, but that doesn't matter. It's here. He was here.

I don't know how long I kneel there, breathing in the last remnants of him, of us. But I know if I stay too long, I'll lose myself completely.

So I force myself to stand.

And I turn around.

Because if I let the pain win, I won't come back from it.

~ ~

I'm running toward the high school when I remember something crucial.

I need a car.

I groan aloud, slowing my pace.

Damn it.

Looks like I'll have to face Luka before school after all. And I really hoped he'd have more time to forget about my hasty departure this morning.

Great.

I slow my pace as the house comes into view, the weight of reality settling in my chest. Luka and Mags will definitely have something to say about my little stunt this morning.

The front door swings open before I even reach the porch. Luka leans against the frame, arms crossed, his sharp eyes locking onto mine the second I step into view. Mags stands just behind him, her expression unreadable, but the slight tilt of her head tells me she's intrigued.

I barely get a foot onto the first step before Luka speaks.

"Want to tell me where you ran off to?" His voice is deceptively calm, but I can hear the edge underneath.

I sigh, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. "I told you—I was heading to school."

Mags lets out a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "You took off like the hounds of hell were on your heels hours before school starts. So forgive us if we're a little curious, baby sister."

I roll my eyes at the nickname, shifting my weight. "It wasn't a big deal."

Luka exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Clara, you vanished without a word. Do you know how reckless that is?"

I bristle at the accusation. "I left a word. I literally told you I was going to school."

Luka's jaw tightens. "And yet, you didn't actually go to school."

I glance at Mags, hoping for backup, but she just smirks, arms crossed. Traitor.

I sigh. "I just needed some space."

"To do what?" Luka presses.

I hesitate. Telling them would open a door I'm not sure I want to walk through. But lying? That would be pointless. Luka would see through it instantly.

Mags steps forward, her voice softer than Luka's. "Clara." Her eyes search mine. "Where did you really go?"

I swallow. "The Cullen house."

The silence that follows is thick, suffocating.

Mags raises a brow, unimpressed. Luka, on the other hand, looks like he wants to throw something.

"You what?" His voice is dangerously low now.

I lift my chin. "I wanted to see it."

Luka laughs, but it's humorless. "You wanted to see it?" He pushes off the doorframe, pacing now. "Do you have any idea how insanely dangerous that was? If they were there—"

"They weren't," I cut in, my own irritation rising. "It was abandoned. There was nothing there but old scents."

Luka's eyes narrow. "And yet, you ran off, alone, without thinking. Without telling us. And you think that's okay?"

I exhale sharply. "I just needed to see it, okay? I don't know why, but I did. And I was fine."

Luka stops pacing, his expression hardening. "You think you were fine. But you're playing with fire, Clara."

Mags watches the exchange with a curious expression, then finally speaks. "What did you find?"

I hesitate. Then, quietly, "Carlisle's scent."

Something flickers across Mags' face—understanding, maybe. But Luka? His whole posture shifts, his concern deepening into something heavier.

Mags sighs. "That's why you look like someone kicked your ribs in."

I press my lips together. She's not wrong.

Luka scrubs a hand down his face, taking a steadying breath. "Clara… I get it." His voice is quieter now, less sharp. "I do. But chasing ghosts isn't going to help you."

I glance away, jaw tightening. "I wasn't chasing anything."

"No?" Luka folds his arms again. "Then what were you doing?"

I don't have an answer. Not one I want to give.

Mags studies me for a long moment, then steps forward, reaching out. "Come here."

I hesitate but let her pull me into a loose hug. She smells like warm spice and the lingering traces of last night's bonfire.

"You've got to stop torturing yourself like this, kid," she murmurs against my hair.

I don't respond.

Luka exhales heavily. "Just… talk to us next time, Clara. No more running off alone. Especially not towards the Cullens."

I nod, but it's barely more than muscle memory.

Luka isn't fooled. His eyes narrow slightly. "Promise me."

I glance up, meeting his gaze. It's not a request.

"…Fine." The word feels like a surrender.

Luka holds my gaze a moment longer, like he's measuring the truth in my answer. Eventually, he sighs and shakes his head. "You're gonna be late for school."

Relieved by the shift in conversation, I exhale. "Yeah. I should get going. What are you two planning to do while I suffer through high school?"

Mags smirks, tilting her head. "Oh, you really don't want to know."

I wrinkle my nose. "Ugh, gross. That's so not where I wanted my brain to go."

She just grins, unapologetic.

Luka mutters something under his breath and turns toward the garage. I watch him for a second before glancing at Mags. "Is he okay?"

Her smirk fades into something softer. "He just worries about you."

I groan, running a hand through my hair. "He doesn't have to."

"Yeah?" Mags raises an eyebrow. "Then maybe stop giving him reasons to."

I don't have a good response to that.

Instead, I just sigh. This is going to be a long day.