The house had settled.
Or at least—it pretended to.
Dinner was over.
Dishes were either done… or strategically left in a state of "I'll deal with it later" which, in Swan household terms, meant never.
Charlie had disappeared into his usual quiet routine—probably already halfway into sleep or contemplating life in silence.
Bella had retreated too.
Likely to her room.
To think.
To brood.
To stare dramatically at a wall.
Or out a window.
Possibly both.
And Amara—
Amara was exactly where she deserved to be.
Her bed.
Her territory.
Her kingdom.
She lay on her back, blanket tucked just right, one arm under her pillow, the other resting lazily over her stomach like she had personally survived a war.
Which, to be fair—
Shopping + social interaction + Edward Cullen counted.
A small, satisfied smile rested on her lips.
Today had been…
Nice.
Actually nice.
No chaos.
No emotional disasters.
No sudden life-threatening stupidity.
Well—
Her expression twitched.
"Ed-butt," she muttered under her breath.
There it was.
The one stain on an otherwise perfect day.
She narrowed her eyes slightly at the ceiling like Edward might somehow feel it.
Honestly.
Who does that?
Who wakes someone up by honking?
At six thirty.
In the morning.
Like he was summoning her soul.
"Three times," she whispered in disbelief. "THREE."
Her voice carried the pain of betrayal.
The injustice.
The audacity.
She rolled onto her side aggressively, dragging the blanket with her like it had also wronged her.
"Ruined a perfectly good dream…"
She paused.
"…I don't even remember the dream."
Which made it worse.
Tragic loss.
Irrecoverable damage.
Still—
Aside from that one deeply offensive, unnecessary, emotionally violent incident—
The rest of the day?
Good.
Really good.
Peaceful.
Light.
Lunch had been fun.
The drive had been calming.
Dinner had been warm.
Bella had been…
"…manageable," she decided.
Charlie had been normal.
Which, honestly, was a blessing.
Everything had felt—
Balanced.
Her lips curved again into a soft smile.
"…Not bad," she murmured sleepily.
Then—
Her face slowly shifted.
Brows pulling together.
Eyes opening just a little.
A thought appeared.
Small.
Annoying.
Persistent.
"…Did I forget something?"
She stared at the ceiling.
Her brain, unfortunately, woke up just enough to cause problems.
It began searching.
Rewinding.
Replaying her day like a low-budget documentary.
School…
Lunch…
Drive…
Dinner…
Pause.
Something felt…
Off.
"…Hmm."
She frowned.
Thinking harder.
Which was already too much effort for bedtime.
"Homework?" she whispered.
Immediate rejection.
"No. That was intentionally ignored."
Valid.
"Something Bella said?"
Nope.
Not important enough.
"Something I was supposed to do…?"
Silence.
Her brain gave her nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Just empty space and vibes.
"…Wow," she muttered. "Useless."
She stared at the ceiling for a few more seconds.
Thinking.
Trying.
Failing spectacularly.
Then—
She sighed.
Turned her head.
Buried deeper into her pillow like a defeated warrior.
"…If I can't remember it," she declared softly, "it's not important."
Logical.
Confident.
Extremely wrong.
Somewhere out there—
Lucien existed.
Alive.
Functioning.
Waiting.
Probably checking his phone.
Then checking again.
Then staring at it like it had personally betrayed him.
Possibly wondering:
Did she die?
Did she forget me?
Am I being ignored?
The answer?
Yes.
Yes, he was.
Amara had not only forgotten him—
She had erased him from her active memory.
Emotionally.
Mentally.
Spiritually.
The man did not exist.
Poor Lucien.
Tragic.
Devastating.
Completely avoidable.
Amara, meanwhile, shifted again, getting comfortable.
Completely at peace.
"…This day could've been perfect," she murmured.
Pause.
"…If Bella wasn't glued to Edward like a love-sick fool."
She made a face.
A very judgmental face.
Honestly.
All day.
Everywhere.
Walking. Sitting. Breathing.
Together.
Like separation was illegal.
"Disgusting," she whispered.
Then sighed dramatically.
"But we can't have everything in life."
Philosophical.
Deep.
Unnecessary.
Her thoughts began to slow.
Soften.
Fade.
"…Tomorrow…"
Charlie's voice echoed faintly in her mind.
Billy.
The guys.
The game.
Her brows furrowed slightly again.
"…Billy…"
Wait.
And—
In the movie.
Seth.
Leah.
Yes.
Correct.
Good memory.
Progress.
"…What was their dad's name again…"
Silence.
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Her brain clocked out.
"…God, I'm bad with names."
She didn't even try harder.
Just gave up instantly.
"Nope. Not thinking."
Effort denied.
She curled slightly under the blanket, hugging the pillow like it understood her struggles.
"Forget everything."
"Sleep."
Her breathing slowed.
Her body relaxed.
Her thoughts dissolved completely.
And just like that—
Amara fell asleep.
Deep.
Peaceful.
Unbothered.
Outside—
Forks existed.
Dark.
Quiet.
Mildly suspicious.
Clouds drifted slowly across the sky, thin enough for the moon to glow faintly through them.
Soft silver light slipped through Amara's window.
Spreading gently across her room.
Across her bed.
Across her face.
She looked calm.
Soft.
Like an angel.
A slightly aggressive, judgmental angel—
But still.
Peaceful.
Untouchable.
Like chaos had been denied entry.
For a moment—
Everything was still.
Then—
From deep within the forest—
A sound rose.
Low.
Long.
Haunting.
A wolf's howl.
It echoed through the night.
Carried by the wind.
Another answered.
Then another.
The forest stirred.
Alive.
Watching.
Listening.
Inside—
Amara shifted slightly.
Her brows twitched.
Her fingers curled into the blanket.
She turned onto her other side.
"…five more minutes…" she mumbled incoherently.
Even in sleep—
She negotiated with life.
But she didn't wake.
Not even close.
Outside—
The howling grew.
Layered.
Louder.
Like a conversation.
Or a warning.
Or just dramatic wolves being dramatic.
Then—
Suddenly....
It stopped.
Not faded.
Not drifted.
Stopped.
Sharp.
Immediate.
Like someone had gone—
"Enough."
Silence returned.
Heavy.
Controlled.
The forest stilled again.
Like nothing had happened.
Inside—
Amara slept on.
Unaware.
Unbothered.
Uninterrupted.
Completely safe.
Completely cozy.
Completely disconnected from reality.
And completely oblivious—
To forgotten messages.
Forgotten people.
And the very unfortunate man named Lucien.
@Miss_Scream on P @ tr eon
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