The next week at Forks High School passed uneventfully, or at least it appeared so from the outside. Bella found herself hyperaware of everything: the Cullens' subtle interactions, the nuances in Rosalie's body language, and her own growing restlessness. Something inside her was changing, though she couldn't quite put it into words.
On Thursday, Bella stayed late at school, using the excuse of needing extra time in the library. In truth, she wanted a moment of solitude to sift through her thoughts. The weather outside had turned ominous, the heavy clouds signaling an approaching storm.
As she packed up her things, the library door creaked open, and Bella froze. She wasn't expecting anyone, and the soft footsteps approaching her table felt deliberate. Turning, she was surprised to see Rosalie standing there, her expression unreadable.
"Rosalie," Bella said, trying to keep her voice even. "What are you doing here?"
Rosalie crossed her arms, leaning casually against the nearest bookshelf. "Alice told me you've been visiting La Push."
Bella blinked, unsure how to respond. "I didn't realize my social life was a topic of interest."
Rosalie's golden eyes narrowed. "The Quileutes aren't just a friendly group with campfire stories, Bella. You're playing with things you don't understand."
Her tone wasn't scolding, but there was a sharpness to it that made Bella bristle. "Maybe I'm trying to understand."
"Why?" Rosalie demanded, her voice dropping to a low growl. "What are you looking for?"
Bella hesitated, meeting Rosalie's gaze head-on. "Answers. About this place. About myself."
Something flickered in Rosalie's expression—something like recognition—but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. She straightened, stepping closer. "Whatever you think you'll find, it won't change anything."
"Maybe not," Bella said quietly, "but I can't just ignore it."
Rosalie studied her for a long moment, then shook her head. "You're reckless."
Before Bella could respond, Rosalie turned and walked away, her movements graceful and precise. Bella let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She wasn't sure if their exchange had brought her closer to Rosalie or pushed her further away.
That night, Bella couldn't sleep. Her mind raced with thoughts of Rosalie, the Quileutes, and the gnawing sense that something big was coming. She tossed and turned until, finally, she gave up and got out of bed. Pulling on a jacket, she decided to take a walk.
The forest behind Charlie's house was quiet, the kind of stillness that felt alive. Bella stepped carefully over roots and fallen branches, the cool air biting at her cheeks. Her breath formed soft clouds in front of her, but she didn't feel cold. If anything, she felt... warm, like a fire was smoldering just beneath her skin.
As she wandered deeper into the woods, an uneasy feeling crept over her. The shadows between the trees seemed darker, heavier, and the usual sounds of the forest were eerily absent. Bella paused, straining her ears, and that's when she heard it—a low, guttural growl.
Her heart leapt into her throat as her eyes darted around, searching for the source. The growl came again, closer this time, and Bella's instincts screamed at her to run. But before she could move, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It wasn't an animal, though its movements were animalistic. The vampire was tall and wiry, with a feral look in his red eyes and a wicked grin that sent a chill down Bella's spine, a fucking vampire , again.
"Well, well," he drawled, his voice dripping with malice. "What do we have here?"
Bella's breath caught, her pulse thundering in her ears. "Who are you?"
The vampire tilted his head, his grin widening. "No one you'll need to remember."
He lunged, faster than Bella's eyes could track, but before he reached her, a blur of gold and black intercepted him. The impact sent both figures crashing into the underbrush, and Bella stumbled back, her eyes wide with shock.
Rosalie.
The vampire snarled, his fangs bared, but Rosalie was faster, her movements precise and deadly. She pinned him to the ground, her strength overpowering his wild flailing. "You picked the wrong place," she hissed, her voice venomous.
The vampire struggled, but Rosalie didn't relent. She twisted his arm with a sickening crack, and he let out a howl of pain before breaking free and darting into the forest. Rosalie didn't chase him. Instead, she turned to Bella, her expression furious.
"What were you thinking, wandering out here alone?" she demanded, her voice sharp.
"I couldn't sleep," Bella said, her voice trembling. "I didn't think—"
"That's the problem," Rosalie snapped. "You don't think. You could've been killed."
Bella's eyes filled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "Why do you care?"
Rosalie's anger faltered, and for a moment, something raw and vulnerable flashed across her face. "Because I do," she said quietly.
Before Bella could respond, Rosalie turned and disappeared into the night, leaving Bella alone in the clearing. The warmth she'd felt earlier was gone, replaced by a cold that seeped into her bones. She wrapped her arms around herself and made her way back to the house, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.
Back in her room, Bella sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her reflection in the darkened window. Rosalie's words echoed in her mind, along with the image of her fierce, protective fury. Because I do.
The connection between them was undeniable, even if Rosalie refused to acknowledge it. Bella knew she couldn't give up—not on understanding the truth about herself, and not on Rosalie.
Whatever lay ahead, she would face it. She didn't have a choice.