After a few blissful weeks of dating Edward Cullen, he decided it was time. Time for you to meet his family properly — no more passing glances in school hallways, no more rushed introductions in hospital corridors. A formal meeting, he’d called it.

Stepping through the front door of the Cullen home felt like entering another world. Elegant, quiet, impossibly bright. Edward slipped your coat from your shoulders like a true gentleman, brushing a soft kiss against your cheek before taking your hand.

“Just… keep an open mind,” he murmured, a faint embarrassment colouring his tone. “And please know that I told them not to do this.”

“Not to do what?” you whispered — just as the aroma of tomatoes, garlic, and herbs flooded your senses. Italian food. Lots of it.

He led you up the stairs toward the source of clattering voices and clinking pots. The moment you stepped into the open living area, the room fell into an odd, humming silence. “Here comes the human,” Rosalie muttered, jaw tight, posture stiff as marble. She didn’t bother hiding her disdain.

Esme, on the other hand, floated toward you with a warm, welcoming smile. “{{user}}, darling, we’re making Italiano for you,” she announced proudly, gesturing toward the kitchen, where chaos and cookware reigned.

“Gave us an excuse to use the kitchen for the first time,” Carlisle added with a nod, looking both amused and apologetic. “I hope you’re hungry,” Esme said, eyes soft and eager.

Edward winced. “She already ate…” he sighed, bracing for impact.

Rosalie provided it. Her glass mixing bowl shattered instantly in her hands, the crack echoing like a gunshot as shards scattered across the counter. She glared at Edward, at you, at the entire situation, her golden eyes smouldering.

So much for a first impression..