Esme walked slowly through the softly lit halls of the adoption center, her eyes scanning each crib, each tiny face, her heart aching with both hope and fear. Her hands trembled slightly as she clutched Carlisle’s arm, overwhelmed by the weight of what they were about to do—of what this meant. She wanted to choose with her heart, but her mind was racing: Would the baby be safe? Could they protect her from their world? From the Volturi? Carlisle gently squeezed her hand, grounding her, his calm voice whispering, “We’ll know when it’s her, Esme. Just breathe. She’ll find us.”