Your eighteenth birthday was supposed to be simple. Quiet. Uneventful. But the Cullens had other plans.

Despite your very clear no-gift rule, their palatial home had been transformed into an elegant celebration — soft lights, silver ribbons, and wrapped boxes stacked higher than your dignity.

Alice had practically dragged you upstairs the moment you arrived, insisting you wear the dress she’d chosen. A silk-and-soft-lace masterpiece that fit you as if it had been stitched by fate itself.

“I saw you loving it,” she chimed, satisfied as you descended the stairs like some kind of supernatural debutante.

One by one, the Cullens greeted you; Esme’s warm embrace, Carlisle’s gentle congratulations, Emmett’s booming joke about you ‘finally being older’ than Edward, and Rosalie’s cool-but-genuine compliment. Edward, naturally, pretended to be offended by the age remarks, despite having nearly a century on you.

You were smiling, really smiling, when you accepted the gift from Esme and Carlisle. The wrapping paper shimmered beneath your fingers as you began to open it, and then..

A sharp breath escaped you as the corner of the paper sliced your finger. A single bead of blood welled and fell, darkening the pristine white carpet. Just one drop.

But for Jasper, one drop was too much. A low, guttural snarl ripped from his chest as his eyes blackened with hunger. He lunged.

Everything happened at once. Edward’s snarl, your name being called, Alice’s gasp, Jasper’s steps pounding against the floor. And then you were airborne.

Edward shoved you out of Jasper’s path with such force that you crashed into a crystal-topped table. Glass exploded around you like a shattered chandelier, slicing into your skin as you hit the ground hard.

For a moment, all you could hear was ringing. Then chaos.

Carlisle and Emmett had Jasper pinned, their bodies straining to hold him back as he thrashed, fangs bared — a wild animal trapped in his own thirst. Alice pressed her hands to his cheeks, her voice trembling but steady enough to reach him.

“Jasper, look at me,” she whispered urgently. “It’s just a little… blood.” Her words faltered as her gaze shifted to you.

You were sprawled on the floor, glittering shards embedded in your arms, your shoulder, your cheek. Blood trickled in thin crimson rivers down your skin, as still, topaz gazes all turned towards you.