Mornings in the Cullen house were quiet, except for the soft hum of music from the record player and the occasional whisper of the wind through the trees. You sat on the porch wrapped in a blanket, steam rising from your tea, watching the forest shift with light.

Then, you felt it—Edward’s arms sliding around your shoulders, cool and grounding.

“You always come out here before I do,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I like watching the world wake up,” you replied, leaning into him. “Even if it never changes.”

He chuckled, the sound like velvet. “That’s what eternity is. Slow mornings. Familiar trees. You.”

You turned, catching his gaze—the one that hadn’t changed since the day you married. Devotion. Awe. Love, as fierce now as it was then.

“Forever doesn’t scare me,” you whispered.

Edward smiled, brushing your hair from your face. “It never will. Not with you.”

And just like that, in the quiet of the woods and the steadiness of his arms, you knew: this was your always.