The rain had eased into a thin, endless drizzle by the time I stepped outside.
Forks High’s parking lot shimmered beneath the streetlights, every puddle reflecting pale gold across the wet asphalt.
The air smelled like pine, rainwater, and cold metal.
At least, it should’ve felt cold.
But for some reason, it didn’t.
My sneakers splashed quietly through shallow puddles as I tugged my jacket tighter out of reflex.
January in Washington was supposed to freeze your lungs on the inhale, yet all I felt was… comfortable.
Not warm exactly.
Just unaffected.
I frowned down at my hands, that wasn’t normal.
“Yo, Newton!” I looked up as Eric Yorkie jogged toward me through the drizzle, hoodie soaked dark from the rain.
His glasses were speckled with water droplets, and his hair looked like it had lost a fight with gravity sometime around third period.
Eric always moved like his thoughts were tripping over each other trying to escape first.
We exchanged our usual greeting, clasped hands, pulled in, awkward fist bump.
The second his skin touched mine, Eric jerked backward.
“Dude,” he blurted, staring at me.
“Why are you so hot?” I deadpanned immediately.
“Yorkie, I value our friendship too much to continue this conversation.” “What?
No!” Eric sputtered.
“I mean your hand!
Your hand’s hot!” I pressed my palm against my cheek.
…Okay, maybe a little.
“Huh.” Eric pointed at me accusingly.
“See?
I’m not crazy!” “Debatable.” “I’m serious!” I shrugged.
“Maybe you’re freezing.” Eric blinked.
“You think?” “Wet hoodie.
Rain exposure.
Chronic nerd circulation.” I gestured vaguely toward him.
“Classic symptoms.” He looked down at himself uncertainly.
“You know,” he muttered, rubbing his arms, “I have been cold all day.” “That’s because your body is rejecting Forks emotionally.” “That makes sense, actually.” Of course it did.
Eric accepted nonsense explanations with the confidence of a man who’d absolutely get kidnapped by a cult.
“I should probably head home before I get sick,” he said.
“Good plan.” He gave me a lazy salute before jogging toward his beat-up Honda Civic, nearly slipping on the pavement halfway there.
I watched him leave, then glanced back down at my hand.
The rain landing on my skin should’ve felt icy.
But instead, it barely registered.
A weird tension settled low in my stomach.
“Fantastic,” I muttered, climbing into my Mountaineer.
“I’ve been here one day and I’m already violating basic human biology.” The engine rumbled to life beneath me.
Windshield wipers swept steadily across the glass while the heater hummed softly through the vents, though I barely noticed the temperature change.
In the rearview mirror, my reflection stared back at me.
Same blond hair.
Same blue eyes.
Same annoyingly approachable face.
Normal.
Mostly.
Still… I couldn’t shake the feeling that something beneath the surface had changed.
Something I hadn’t noticed before.
… The Cullen house stood silent beneath the rain.
The massive windows reflected the dark forest surrounding the house while water traced silver lines down the glass.
Somewhere deeper in the woods, branches creaked softly in the wind.
Upstairs, Edward Cullen stood beside an open suitcase.
His movements were precise.
Mechanical.
Fold shirt.
Place inside.
Repeat.
Anyone else might’ve looked calm.
Edward looked like he was holding himself together by force alone.
Bella Swan’s scent still burned through his throat like venom.
He could remember every detail with horrifying clarity.
The fragile rhythm of her heartbeat.
The warmth beneath her skin.
The overwhelming sweetness of her blood flooding the classroom air until instinct drowned out his thoughts.
I’m a monster.
The words echoed bitterly through his mind.
He reached for another shirt and paused.
“You’re leaving.” Alice’s voice drifted softly from the doorway.
Edward didn’t turn around.
“Yes.” Rain tapped gently against the windows behind him.
“The Denalis?” she asked.
“They’ll understand.” Alice stepped into the room soundlessly.
Her golden eyes flicked toward the suitcase, then toward Edward’s rigid shoulders.
Even now, she could still see fragments of futures branching around him, thousands of possible choices unfolding every second.
But tonight, something was wrong.
“You almost killed her,” Alice said quietly.
Edward’s hand tightened around the fabric in his grip.
“Yes.” The admission came easily.
Too easily.
Because denying it would’ve been a lie.
For one terrible moment in that classroom, he had wanted Bella Swan’s blood more than he had ever wanted anything in his century of existence.
And he had almost surrendered to it.
“But you didn’t,” Alice said.
Edward finally looked at her.
“No,” he murmured.
“Because Newton interrupted me.” Alice went still.
“What exactly happened?” she asked carefully.
Edward’s expression tightened.
“He spoke to me.
Asked if I was feeling ill.” A humorless smile flickered briefly across his face.
“Ridiculous timing.
But it broke my concentration long enough for me to think clearly.” Alice frowned.
No matter how many times she replayed what she had seen in her mind, that moment refused to appear.
Not blurred or hidden.
It was simply absent.
“I never saw him,” she whispered.
Edward’s brows pulled together slightly.
“What?” “In my vision.” Alice shook her head slowly.
“I saw you struggling.
I saw you deciding whether to stay or leave.
But Mike…” Her voice lowered.
“He wasn’t there.” A new presence appeared beside her, silent as snowfall.
Jasper’s arm slid around Alice’s waist automatically, grounding her.
“That’s impossible,” he said quietly.
Alice nodded once.
“I know.” Jasper’s expression sharpened slightly as he felt the tension rolling off her in waves beneath her composed exterior.
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for Edward.
But for the unknown.
Rosalie leaned against the doorway a second later, Emmett towering casually behind her.
“So let me get this straight,” Rosalie said flatly.
“Some random human accidentally stopped Edward from massacring his biology class, and now Alice can’t see him?” “When you say it like that, it sounds kind of bad,” Emmett muttered.
“It is bad.” Edward ignored them.
“He’s human,” he said firmly, though uncertainty lingered beneath the words.
“Nothing more.” Alice looked at him.
Carlisle’s footsteps sounded softly on the stairs moments before he appeared in the doorway with Esme beside him.
Neither moved unnecessarily.
Neither breathed.
The room felt unnaturally still around them.
“You’ve decided to leave,” Carlisle said.
Edward inclined his head once.
“For now.” Carlisle studied him carefully.
“You exercised restraint today, Edward.
That matters.” Edward laughed quietly.
The sound held no amusement.
“I came within seconds of killing an innocent girl in a room full of teenagers.” Esme stepped closer, resting a gentle hand against his arm.
“But you didn’t.” Edward closed his eyes briefly.
Because Mike Newton spoke.
Because one meaningless interruption shattered the instinct long enough for him to regain control.
Carlisle’s gaze shifted toward Alice.
“You’re troubled.” Alice hesitated.
That alone drew everyone’s attention.
“Alice?” Esme asked softly.
“I can’t see him,” Alice admitted.
Silence followed.
Rain pressed harder against the windows.
Edward’s expression sharpened.
“At all?” She shook her head slowly.
“It’s like… looking for someone in a room and realizing there’s an empty space where they should be.” Jasper’s arm tightened slightly around her waist.
Carlisle’s calm expression dimmed with concern.
Over the decades, Alice’s visions had failed before.
Sudden decisions altered them.
But complete absence?
Never.
Edward stared down at the half-packed suitcase.
Then quietly: “Maybe he’s become your blind spot.” The words settled heavily into the room.
Alice looked toward the rain-streaked windows, her golden eyes distant.
Usually, the future stretched before her like an endless river.
Now there was a fracture in it.
A missing piece.
And somehow, that frightened her more than Edward losing control ever had.
Because vampires were predictable, she could see them in her visions.
But Mike Newton?
Now that she couldn’t see.