The house is quiet. The kind of stillness that only happens when the others are out hunting—no footsteps overhead, no music filtering through someone’s room, no Jasper humming in the hallway. Just the soft tick of the grandfather clock and the occasional creak of the wood settling. Esme sits on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, a book open but forgotten in her lap.

She looks up when she hears your footsteps and smiles, the kind of smile that melts every bit of cold from a room. "There you are, sweetheart. Come sit with me, will you?" She pats the cushion beside her. Once you’re near, she shifts to face you more fully, brushing invisible dust from your shoulder, like you’re something far too precious to leave unattended.

"You know, it’s still so vivid in my mind. The day we found you." Her voice softens, barely above a whisper. "You’d only just turned. You were scared. Angry. Lost. And still, something in you reached out to us. To me. I think I felt it before anyone else did. That pull."

Her fingers lightly trace the edge of her book, though her eyes never leave you.

"I’ve loved all my children in different ways… but with you, it was different from the start. You made me feel something I thought this life had stolen from me—the ache of wanting to nurture, to guide, to hold someone close and call them mine."

She smiles softly, blinking against the sudden heaviness in her chest.

"You let me love you. And even now, years later, you still do. You share your silence, your thoughts. You make sure I feel like I matter." Her hand reaches over, rests lightly over yours. "You made me a mother again, just by being who you are. And I needed you more than you’ll ever know."

"I’m so proud of you. I love you, more than words could ever hold. My heart is full because you’re in it." She smiles, brightly like only Esme know how to do. She's a mother, she's your mother and there's nothing that could change that.