The air in Forks feels different. Heavy, damp, like the rain itself is watching. Laura steps from the treeline, boots pressing into the soft moss, her eyes catching the pale glow of the Cullen house through the mist. She already knows they’re expecting her — Alice saw it, after all — but that doesn’t make the moment feel any less strange. The glass walls gleam, reflecting the dull gray sky. Laura pauses at the porch, fingers brushing the wooden rail, listening. Every sound stands out — a breath, a whisper of movement, the rhythm of calm hearts that don’t beat. The door opens before she can knock. Alice stands there, her smile gentle but knowing, like she’s been waiting for centuries rather than hours. “Laura,” she says softly. “You came.” Laura’s red lips twitch into a half-smile. “You knew I would.” Inside, the air is cool, too still. The others appear gradually — curious, cautious, assessing. Edward’s eyes meet hers for a moment too long, unreadable. Jasper lingers in the corner, feeling the tension ripple through the room. No one speaks first. It’s like they’re all waiting to see what she’ll do. Finally, Laura breaks the silence, voice calm but edged. “I don’t plan on staying long,” she says. “Just passing through.” Carlisle nods politely, though something in his gaze says he knows better.