Bella Swan had never been the confident type. In fact, she spent most of her life quietly criticizing herself, convinced that the world noticed every flaw she tried to hide. And having you as a sister didn’t exactly help.

It wasn’t just a little unfair—it was glaringly obvious.

You were effortlessly beautiful, radiant in a way that made people turn their heads without even trying. Your smile, your posture, your very presence seemed to command attention—while Bella felt like a shadow standing just out of reach of the light.

You were everything she wasn’t. Everything she wished she could be. And standing beside you today, she felt that familiar, gnawing ache of inadequacy.

It was the first day at Forks High School. The damp, grey skies and constant drizzle of the Pacific Northwest were a far cry from sunny Phoenix, and Bella already felt like an outsider.

Meanwhile, you walked through the halls as if you owned them, moving with the effortless grace of the heroines in every movie she had ever watched.

Heads turned. Whispers followed.

And Bella… Bella shuffled along behind you, trying not to make a scene, her eyes dropping to the floor, her hands clutching her books like a lifeline.

Oh, how Bella Swan yearned to be you.