Being near a human only reminded Rosalie of what she no longer was. The contrast was impossible to ignore: her own cold skin, her unchanging strength, the stillness that felt more like a sentence than a gift.

“You don’t know how fortunate you are,” she said abruptly, her voice smooth but edged, eyes fixed on the stretch of clouds below. “To be warm without thinking about it. To feel it and not realize it’s something you could lose.”

She didn’t look over, but her tone shifted— not softer, just quieter.

“I used to feel the heat in my hands. I never thought it meant anything. Now I can’t remember what it’s like.” She flexed her fingers once, out of habit, not hope.

“I miss that more than anything I can explain. And you don’t even realize it’s something to miss.”