STEPHENIE MEYER OWNS THE TWILIGHT UNIVERSE AND ALL OF THE CHARACTERS.

Edward was the first to reach the Cullen home, his movements swift and effortless as he came to a halt at the edge of the clearing. The familiar structure loomed before him, its pristine glass walls reflecting the moonlight like a beacon from another life—one he wasn't sure he wanted to reclaim.

Jasper arrived moments later, his expression neutral, followed closely by Emmett, who came crashing through the trees with significantly less grace.

"How the hell did you know where to go?" Emmett grumbled, his voice thick with frustration. He was still sore about losing, especially when he'd had the head start.

Edward turned toward him, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Oh, I don't know, Emmett. Maybe because I'm sort of a mind reader, and you're sort of a wide-open book full of thoughts." His voice was light, teasing. "Your mind practically screamed the directions to the mansion the moment you decided to start this little 'race.' If that's what you even want to call it."

Emmett let out a low growl, narrowing his eyes.

"I wouldn't get too cocky," Jasper remarked, folding his arms as he appraised Edward with mild skepticism. "You're not as fast as you like to think."

Edward let out a short chuckle. "Oh, I never claimed to be. I just wanted to make you two think it was a competition. Stick to what you're good at. It's not like I'd challenge Emmett to an arm-wrestling contest."

Emmett's irritation was instantly forgotten. He puffed out his chest, looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Damn right you wouldn't. At least you know better than that."

Jasper shook his head, unimpressed. Without another word, he gestured toward the front steps, ushering them forward.

Alice was already waiting for them on the porch, her eyes bright with something like amusement as she took in the sight of them.

"You two actually managed to do it," she said, a knowing smile playing on her lips as she turned her attention to Jasper.

"I'd never let you down, sugar," Jasper murmured smoothly, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

Emmett made an exaggerated gagging noise. "Get a room."

Jasper only smirked, unfazed. "Wouldn't make a difference. You'd still hear us."

Emmett looked horrified at the implication, grimacing as he took a step back. "Jesus, man. Why would you say that?"

Alice giggled at Emmett's discomfort, but her amusement faded when she turned to Edward. He had made no effort to greet her, had offered no acknowledgment at all. Instead, he simply walked past her, slipping into the house without so much as a glance in her direction.

Alice huffed, crossing her arms. "After all this time, you'd think he'd at least say something."

Emmett glanced down at her, raising a brow. "Were you expecting a heartfelt, tear-jerking reunion? With Edward of all people?"

Alice exhaled sharply, her shoulders dropping. "No," she admitted in a quiet voice, "but it would be nice."

Jasper pressed a reassuring hand against the small of her back, but neither he nor Emmett lingered. They followed Edward inside, heading toward the living room where the rest of the family waited.

The moment Edward stepped through the doorway, it was as if he had walked into an alternate reality—one that felt both familiar and impossibly foreign.

Carlisle, Esme, and Rosalie were seated in their usual places, their faces composed yet unreadable. At one point in his existence, they had been everything to him. His family. His home. And now? They were just faces from the past, echoes of a life he wasn't sure he wanted to reclaim.

He couldn't say he missed them.

Truthfully, he had always harbored grievances with each of them, to some degree.

Rosalie—because she was Rosalie. Vain. Self-absorbed. Annoying to a fault. She had never made an effort to disguise her distaste for him, and he had never bothered to hide his own irritation with her.

Esme was harder to resent. She was kind, gentle, the very essence of warmth in an otherwise cold existence. But Edward had always struggled with the way she mothered him. He had a mother—her name had been Elizabeth Masen, and she had died in 1918. He hadn't asked for another, hadn't wanted a replacement. And yet, Esme had always tried. Always cared. It left a bad taste in his mouth, even if he knew she meant well.

And then there was Carlisle. The ever-patient, ever-righteous patriarch. Edward had never hated him, but he had never truly agreed with him, either. Carlisle had always expected him to walk the moral path—to do things the right way. But the right way was just Carlisle's way. Edward had never wanted to live his eternity masquerading as a high school student, pretending to be something he wasn't. He hadn't wanted to deny what he was, either. Why should he? Choosing to drink human blood didn't make him a monster, just as feeding on animals didn't make Carlisle a saint.

He had spent so long trying to reconcile what he was with what he wanted to be. And in the end, he had simply left.

Now he was back. And he wasn't sure how he felt about it.

The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. No one spoke.

Edward simply stood there, staring at the people who had once been his family, wondering what they saw when they looked at him now.

Edward barely had time to brace himself before Rosalie's condescending voice sliced through the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

"So, the prodigal son returns," she drawled, her blue eyes gleaming with disdain.

Edward exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of her words. "Do you really have to be here?" he bit back, his voice laced with irritation. "I'm already having a spectacularly bad day, and seeing your face just adds to the misery."

Rosalie scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Trust me, being here is the last thing I want to do. But apparently, we all have to roll out the red carpet for you."

Edward smirked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'm honored. Truly."

"Enough." Carlisle's voice cut through their exchange with quiet authority. Though his tone remained composed, there was no mistaking the steel beneath it. "There's much to discuss, and your petty squabbles can wait."

Edward sighed dramatically and gestured toward him. "By all means, Carlisle. The floor is yours."

Alice, Jasper, and Emmett all took their respective seats. Edward, however, remained standing. Sitting down, settling in—pretending that things were normal—felt like too much. He wasn't ready to feign comfort, not when the air was thick with unspoken tensions and unresolved history.

Carlisle observed him for a moment before nodding. "I'm sure you have plenty of questions," he began. "Where would you like to start?"

Edward hesitated. He had many questions—most of them circling around Bella, why he felt so different toward her now, why her very existence seemed to gnaw at the edges of something deep within him. But there was one question, one mystery, that had been burning a hole in the back of his mind every time he tried to think of an answer.

"Who is she?" he asked, his voice quieter now, more measured.

Carlisle's brows lifted slightly. "Isabella Swan?" he asked, though there was something knowing in his gaze. From what he understood, Edward had already learned enough about Bella from his encounter with her in person.

"No," Edward corrected, his voice edged with frustration. "Not Isabella Swan." He exhaled sharply, forcing himself to be clearer. "Let me rephrase—who was she?"

A silence stretched between them, thick and expectant. Carlisle leaned forward slightly, studying Edward with a quiet intensity before nodding slowly, as if bracing himself for the conversation ahead.

"The girl you were meant to marry in 1918," he said evenly.

Rosalie let out a derisive snort, her smirk sharp as a knife. "Can't say she missed much by dying. Probably better than marrying him."

Edward clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides, but before he could retaliate, Esme's usually gentle voice snapped through the room like a whip.

"Rosalie!" Esme's eyes flashed with something dangerously close to anger. "I don't want to hear another insult directed at Edward."

Rosalie scoffed but didn't back down. "Then let me leave this conversation," she spat, her voice low and bitter. "I don't want to be here, and I don't need to be here."

"Rosalie—" Emmett placed a large, reassuring hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged him off.

"No!" she snapped, eyes flashing. "You can all sit here and pretend that he deserves to be helped, that he's worth the effort, but I won't. He left the moment things didn't go his way. Whenever the world didn't bend to his will, he ran. That's who he is. Selfish. You can try all you want, but don't expect him to be what you need him to be when it counts."

Carlisle, who had remained silent through her tirade, now stood with a calm yet unmistakably commanding presence. "That's enough, Rosalie. Go out and hunt. Anywhere that isn't here for the time being."

"Fine by me." Rosalie's voice was ice as she turned on her heel and blurred out of the room.

A beat passed before Emmett exhaled heavily, looking torn. No one blamed him when he hesitated only a moment before following after her.

Carlisle sighed, rubbing his temples before turning back to Edward. "I apologize for her outburst."

Edward shook his head. "No need. That was entirely expected."

Alice, however, wasn't as dismissive. "You acting like an ass the moment you walked in didn't exactly help things," she pointed out.

Edward shrugged. "I'm not going to roll over and let her take shots at me without firing back."

Jasper, ever the tactician, cut in before another argument could flare up. "I think we're getting off-topic."

Carlisle nodded. "We are."

Edward took a slow breath, bringing himself back to the one thing that mattered. "So, who was she, Carlisle?" he asked again, his voice quieter this time. "And why—how—is Bella a spitting image of her?"

Carlisle leaned back in his chair, his expression momentarily guarded. It was rare for him to hesitate, to seem uncertain. The fact that he did now made something cold settle in Edward's stomach.

"The answer is... complicated," Carlisle admitted. "And, truthfully, I don't know if it will satisfy you. But I can tell you what I do know."

Edward remained silent, waiting.

Carlisle exhaled. "At the time, I wasn't concerned with learning who she was. My focus was on you—on your survival. Your parents were dying. You were dying. I had already resolved to change you, to save you, and I was making the necessary preparations. But then... a girl came running into the hospital, desperate to see you."

Edward stiffened. His mind, sharpened by immortality, should have recalled something—anything. But there was nothing.

"Did she at least have a name?" Edward demanded, frustrated by his own blank memory.

Carlisle's gaze was steady. "Her name was Isabella Marie."

The words hung in the air like a ghost.

Edward felt something shift inside him, something deep and unsettling. His mind raced. Isabella Marie. The name of the girl he had supposedly been destined to marry as a human. And now, over a century later, his apparent mate bore the same name, the same face—a perfect reflection of a past he couldn't remember.

"She was the daughter of one of your father's closest friends," Carlisle continued. "She was frantic when she arrived—so worried about you that she nearly had to be dragged away. I assumed the two of you were close, but after your transformation... your complete lack of memory of her told me otherwise."

Edward's thoughts spiraled. His photographic memory, his perfect recall of everything since his turning, failed him when it came to his human life. There were only fragments, blurred images, and vague emotions.

Finally, after a long silence, he murmured, "No. I never met her in my life. It was an arrangement made by my father. My mother urged me to go along with it."

But that still didn't explain why. Why Bella was her mirror. Why fate—or something more sinister—had forced their paths to cross over a century later.

"So, what is she then? A descendant of that Isabella from 1918?" Edward asked on a whim, hoping for a logical answer to this increasingly bizarre situation.

"No," Carlisle shook his head solemnly. "She died shortly after your transformation. She contracted the influenza from someone—it might have even been from you, for all I know. I'm sorry, Edward."

Edward let out a breath through his nose, attempting to dismiss the sentiment. "I didn't know her," he said flatly. "Don't be sorry for something like that."

You don't have to act so tough, you know.

Alice's thoughts cut through his mental walls like a battering ram, making it that much harder to maintain control. The truth was, despite his insistence otherwise, the idea of that girl—the one he was meant to marry in his human life—dying in such a tragic way did stir something within him. The thought that it could have been his proximity, his very presence, that sealed her fate unsettled him. And worse still, the image of Bella suffering in the same way sent an inexplicable pang of dread through his chest.

He forced those emotions down. There was no point dwelling on things that could not be changed.

"Then why?" Edward pressed, his voice quieter but no less intense. "If they're not related, how can they look exactly the same? What other explanation could there be?"

Carlisle exhaled, clasping his hands together as he leaned forward in contemplation. "That," he said, "is where you must come to terms with your own theories. Isabella Marie had no children. She died the very day your transition was completed. But Bella Swan being her exact doppleganer?—that is not coincidence."

Edward narrowed his eyes, his skepticism evident. "I'm listening."

Carlisle studied him before continuing. "Vampires only fall in love once. We may grow fond of others, even experience desire, but we are eternally bound to one person. Prior to meeting Bella, you had never mated, correct?"

Edward stiffened, but after a brief pause, he gave a sharp nod.

"Then consider this possibility:" Carlisle went on, "Perhaps, for whatever reason, you were always meant to be with Isabella Marie. But her human life ended before that bond could take hold. You, on the other hand, continued on in immortality, left without the chance to fulfill that connection. Now, you are given another chance—another version of the same soul, the same girl—in the form of Bella Swan."

Silence.

Then Edward laughed. It was a sharp, hollow sound, devoid of humor.

"Oh, that's good," he said, shaking his head as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. "You really got me, Carlisle. Here I thought you were going to provide some logical, scientific reasoning for how two identical people could exist a century apart. And yet, here I am, being told that it's fate? That it's written in the stars?"

His expression darkened as he cast his gaze around the room, scanning their faces.

"But you all knew this already, didn't you?" His eyes locked onto Alice. "You saw all of this happening. How long ago? And now here you are, playing out whatever little scheme you've concocted."

Alice merely rolled her eyes. "You really are dramatic, you know that? Yes, I saw it coming, but do you honestly think I've been planning this since the moment you left all those years ago? This—" she gestured at him, "—is the best thing that could have ever happened to you, and you want to throw it away for no reason?"

"Best thing that could have happened to me?!" Edward suddenly snarled, his control snapping. "I'm in love with a goddamn human!"

The words had barely left his mouth before realization struck him. He felt as though the ground beneath him had vanished, sending him spiraling. Had he really just said that? Out loud?

Jasper smirked knowingly. "See? Now don't you feel lighter, admitting it?"

Edward clenched his jaw, but Jasper merely chuckled. "And trust me," he added, "I know exactly what you're feeling in that big old heart of yours."

"Edward," Esme spoke gently, "I understand that this is difficult for you, but we just want to help you navigate this with Bella."

Edward scoffed but quickly formulated a plan. He sighed dramatically, feigning reluctant acceptance. "Fine," he conceded. "Let's say, for argument's sake, that I do... love Bella." He ignored the pointed looks he received at the phrasing. "If that's the case, I don't need any of you meddling. I can figure things out on my own, like I always do."

Almost immediately, a vision from Alice hit him like a freight train. Bella, sitting beside Charlie, listening as the news anchor spoke of Lonnie and the men he had killed in Port Angeles. Her face, shifting from horror to realization.

The fear in her eyes.

His fear of that moment became tangible, and when the vision faded, he found Alice smirking knowingly at him.

"Not such a great plan after all, is it?" she teased.

Edward clenched his fists. "How do I avoid that?" he ground out.

Alice shrugged, ever so sweetly. "Wouldn't find out if you left."

His teeth clenched audibly. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"

Alice's grin widened, but she merely shrugged again.

Edward exhaled harshly. "Fine," he muttered through gritted teeth. "You win." He lifted his head. "Now tell me how to fix it."

"You can't fix it," Alice said simply. "But you can control how she reacts. If you take the time to let her know you, if you slowly reveal the truth, she won't be afraid of you when she finds out what happened. That's your only option. I've already told her you're my cousin, so that's something to work with."

Edward frowned. "Why would anyone believe we're cousins?"

Alice tilted her head. "Would you rather be associated with Emmett?"

Edward considered it and grimaced. "So what, you expect me to go to school and pretend to be a teenager again?"

Alice's grin was positively wicked. "Precisely."

Edward closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, resigning himself to the inevitable. He let the reality settle—the inescapable fact that he would have to endure high school once again. But this time, it wasn't out of obligation or the need to maintain appearances. No, this time, it was for her. For Bella. To be near her in a way that wouldn't frighten her off, to carefully ease himself into her life without alarming her.

"Fine," he muttered, his voice laced with reluctant acceptance. "But I hope you realize this isn't going to be all sunshine and rainbows."

"None of us were expecting it to be," Alice said matter-of-factly, her arms crossed over her chest. "We already know what you're willing—and not willing—to do."

Edward raised an eyebrow, his expression dry. "Bold of you to assume you would've gotten this far with your plan if you really understood me."

Alice smirked, tilting her head slightly. "Yeah, but Bella was the only factor that really mattered, wasn't she? After realizing you'd do anything for her, the rest was pretty straightforward."

Edward scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I wouldn't do anything for her."

"You wanna try that again?" Jasper challenged, his brown eyes sharp as he gave Edward a pointed look.

Edward held his gaze for a moment before glancing away, irritated by how easily Jasper could see through him.

"Alright," he said, shifting the topic before they could push further, "how exactly is this supposed to work? What's my cover story? When do I start?"

"Someone's eager to start school," Carlisle teased, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Edward shot him a withering glare.

"You'll start the day after tomorrow," Esme interjected, placing a gentle hand on Carlisle's arm to keep him from provoking Edward further.

"That feels like an oversimplification," Edward said, frowning. "There are a lot of things we need to discuss."

Carlisle spread his hands. "Such as?"

"Well, for starters, I assume I can't hunt anyone in town, correct?" Edward asked dryly, his gaze sweeping across their faces.

Silence.

"Thought so," he muttered. "And then there's the matter of where I'll be staying…"

"You'll be staying here, of course!" Esme said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Edward hesitated, feigning concern. "Oh, but what about Rosalie? I'd hate to intrude…"

"Nonsense," Esme scoffed, dismissing his attempt at subtle deflection. "This is your home, and that's final."

Edward smirked slightly. "If you insist." Then, with a casual shrug, he added, "I'll be bringing my own clothes and cars, by the way."

Alice immediately stiffened. "But I'm supposed to pick out your wardrobe!"

Edward let out an exasperated sigh. "I am not wearing your designer clothes to a random high school in Forks, Alice." He gestured vaguely toward their extravagant lifestyle. "Frankly, I'm surprised no one has questioned how none of you manage to draw attention with your rotating collection of luxury cars and couture fashion choices."

Alice pursed her lips, clearly wanting to argue, but anything she said would only make her sound as vain as Rosalie. She huffed instead, folding her arms in frustration.

"Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to pack my things and move them into my new room," Edward said, turning on his heel. But before he left, he stopped and looked back at them, his expression shifting into something more serious.

"You know," he murmured, "she was right about what she said."

Carlisle tilted his head. "Care to elaborate?"

Edward's gaze flickered, his voice steady but devoid of pretense. "I am selfish. I left all of you without a second thought, and I'm not going to sit here and apologize for it now because I'm not sorry. Even now, we all know the only reason I came back with Jasper and Emmett. And it wasn't for any of you. It was for her."

The confession hung heavy in the air, but Carlisle didn't flinch. He simply nodded, his expression calm, understanding.

"We know who you are, Edward," Carlisle said gently. "We have always known, faults and all. But don't for a second think we believe you're as selfish as you claim to be."

Edward studied him for a long moment, then chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. "I truly admire your resolve, Carlisle." His smile was faint, almost wistful. "I just hope your faith isn't misplaced. Hate to disappoint you again."

"You never let me down in the first place," Carlisle countered, his voice unwavering.

Edward held his gaze before nodding once. Then, without another word, he turned and left.