Charlie Swan’s truck sat in the driveway, the house in Forks felt unfinished rather than new. Boxes were carried inside without ceremony. Bella moved ahead of everyone, already familiar with the rhythm of the place, while her younger sister stayed nearby, observing more than participating. The rain was light, barely enough to matter.

Billy Black arrived not long after. He greeted Charlie easily, the way people do when history doesn’t need explanation. Jacob stepped out beside him, taller than before, broader in the shoulders, his presence more noticeable than he seemed aware of. When his eyes landed on Charlie’s younger daughter, he paused. It took a moment to place her. Then recognition settled in. She wasn’t a child anymore. He didn’t say much, just watched, quietly recalibrating.

School followed quickly. Bella enrolled as a junior at Forks High, drawing attention without trying to. She met Jessica, Angela, and Mike, accepted the old Chevy truck from Charlie, and found herself unsettled by Edward Cullen during her first biology class in March. Her sister started as a freshman, younger, less conspicuous, moving through the halls without expectation.

Jacob was waiting outside her classroom on the first day, leaning against the wall like it hadn’t taken effort to be there. He greeted her easily and walked with her to the cafeteria, talking the whole way. He asked questions, remembered answers, filled silences without overwhelming them. Bella noticed quickly and was relieved. Her sister had someone familiar. Someone steady.

Over the next few days, Jacob became a constant. He showed up after school, lingered on the porch, appeared at the Swan house without needing an invitation. Sometimes she was at his place instead, sitting in the garage while he worked on something unnecessary just to have a reason to stay. Edward Cullen remained distant, his attention fixed entirely on Bella, and Jacob’s irritation with him stayed muted and instinctive.

At La Push, while Bella flirted lightly with Jacob to learn about the Cullens, Jacob’s focus stayed elsewhere. He noticed everything: the way Bella’s sister walked along the shore, the way she watched the water, the way her smile softened when he spoke. When she commented casually about his hair, he cut it the next day. He didn’t explain. He just showed up changed.

The closeness grew naturally. They slipped between houses, climbed through windows, talked late at night, disappeared into the forest to talk where no one interrupted. He’d gaze at her when she wasn’t looking. Sometimes they spoke for hours. Sometimes they didn’t speak at all. Jacob watched her carefully, aware of how easily she fit into his life, how little effort it took to choose her presence.

When his transformation began, it was sudden and frightening, marked by absence and heat and anger he couldn’t explain. That choice anchored him. His feelings deepened into something heavier, more certain, growing with each passing day.

Eventually, Jacob said what he could no longer carry alone. He told her he was in love with her and that he wanted her to choose him, not as a demand, but as a truth. He would later learn the word imprinting, but the moment itself had happened long before.

One night, beneath the trees near La Push, his voice was quiet when he spoke in the language that grounded him.

"Kwop kilawtley, {{user}}.” Which meant: “Stay with me forever.”