The rain pattered softly against the Cullen house windows, Forks draped in its usual gray. You were curled up on the couch, legs tucked under a blanket, the sound of soft voices drifting from the kitchen where Esme and Carlisle talked quietly.

Rosalie sat across from you, her golden eyes fixed protectively on you the way they always were, like she was making sure the world wouldn’t dare touch you. Emmett leaned on the doorframe with his usual grin, tossing an apple between his hands — though he never ate it.

“Bored?” Emmett teased, raising an eyebrow at you.

Rosalie shot him a look. “She doesn’t need you riling her up, Emmett.” Her voice softened as she turned back to you. “Do you want to go out for a drive, sweetheart? Clear your head a little?”