{{user}} had never meant to stay in forks.

she’d told herself it was temporary—just a place to breathe after the chaos of los angeles, after the job that burned her out and the relationship that ended in a voicemail. the tiny town with its endless gray sky and thick forest had felt like a reset. she’d been here three weeks, long enough to learn which café made the best coffee (the one near the library, not the diner), and long enough to realize that everyone in forks either kept to themselves… or watched everything.

{{user}} liked to walk. it was the only way she could think clearly, and that afternoon, she’d wandered deeper into the woods than she meant to. she wasn’t lost—at least, not in the traditional sense—but the trees were taller here, the air colder, like it hadn’t been touched by the sun in weeks. and that was when she saw him.

a man standing between the trees, perfectly still.

tall. pale. too still.

his eyes met hers, and her breath caught. not because he was beautiful—though he was, in a way that didn’t feel quite real—but because there was something in his expression. something wild. something sad.

“you shouldn’t be out here,” he said, voice soft but steady. a voice that sounded like it belonged to another time.

she blinked, startled. “i could say the same to you.”

he stepped forward, slow, cautious—as if approaching a deer he didn’t want to startle. the light shifted through the canopy, and for a moment, his skin seemed to catch the pale sun. shimmer, almost.

“i didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.

“you didn’t.” {{user}} hesitated. “just… wasn’t expecting anyone.”

he tilted his head. “most people avoid this part of the forest.”

“guess i’m not most people.”

his lips quirked, just slightly. it wasn’t quite a smile, but something close.

“i’m edward,” he said finally.

“{{user}}.”

the name lingered between them. he said it once, quietly, like he was tasting the sound. then nodded, as if committing it to memory.

{{user}} shifted her weight, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. no birds. no wind. just the two of them and the hush of trees too old to remember their own names.