I need to get out of here. I need to get as far away from her as possible.
The thought loops through my head as I push through the thick crowd between the classroom buildings. I already know where I’m going — it’s just beyond the edge of campus, tucked deep into the forest. Close enough if the others need me… but far enough to be alone. Even they don’t know about it. That’s why I need to lose Edward in this crowd. He means well, he always does, probably trying to help. But I need space. Silence.

Slipping between the stragglers headed to class, I duck behind one of the empty buildings, scan the area — clear — and take off running.

By the time the clearing comes into view, my thoughts are still tangled in everything that’s happened. When Alice first told me about her vision, I thought I could stop it. I hoped I could. That if I just knew, I’d prevent it. But somehow she—Elodie—managed to slip right through my fingers. It started with that scent: fresh mountain air, alpine leaves, and something warm blooming beneath it. And then, that awkward, wide-eyed introduction… Normally, I wouldn’t have even bothered responding. But that look in her eyes—
It reminded me… of hers.
I shake the thought away, the old hurt flickering just beneath the surface. Always just beneath.

The old lumber mill looms through the thinning pines. A breath escapes me. Half-swallowed by vines, its windows cracked like spiderwebs, rust streaking down its tin siding — forgotten, broken. Too fitting.
I found it our first year here, back when I still needed to breathe, in a manner of speaking. Not that the others ever did anything wrong… sometimes I just need time to think. To feel like I’m not always surrounded.

The door groans as I push it open. I don’t flinch. I know every inch of this place — the warped floorboards, the smell of rust and damp cedar, the thick silence clinging to the rafters. The old conveyor belt lies twisted like a spine. The saws still sit bolted in place, teeth dulled but not harmless. Nature is creeping in — cracks in the concrete floor filled with moss and weeds, like the earth wants it back. I understand the feeling.

High above, rusted catwalks trace the building's edges. Most have collapsed, but they’ve never stopped me. I’m not human.

I leap up, the metal groaning louder than usual beneath me. It’ll fall soon. Another piece of this place lost to time. But not yet.

I cross the narrow path until I reach the barely-hinged green door in the wall. Pushing it open, my shoulders drop just slightly.
This is mine.

The first thing you see is the view — panoramic windows stretching across the office front. Most of the panes are shattered or missing, but a few cling on. Through them, untouched forest stretches as far as the eye can see. When I found this room, it was a wreck. Collapsed ceiling tiles. A rotting wooden chair. A rusted-out desk crushed on one side by concrete debris. I even found an ancient computer tower — I dragged it below in case I needed parts.

Over time, depending on my mood, I’d either carefully move the debris or just toss it out the windows. Never heard anyone scream, so I assume I never hit anything important.

Once it was clear, I started fixing it up. Making it mine. I thought about asking Esme — she’s good at that sort of thing — and for a second, I imagined us bonding over it. But I couldn’t do it. This place was just for me.

So I scavenged. A forgotten farmhouse on the outskirts of town led me to my first treasure: a dusky rose French Rococo loveseat, its velvet faded and legs hand-carved. Worn down, but beautiful. It reminded me of home. In one of the upstairs rooms, I found a small antique side table. A little care and they looked like they belonged together.
Later, I bought a battered old vanity from a greedy antique store owner — the mirror was gone, but the bones were good. He tried to overcharge me, but after a little negotiation (and maybe a touch of intimidation), I got it for a fair price. I even bought the matching stool. I placed it to the left of the loveseat, against the wall.

With time and love, everything came back to life. I decorated the vanity with a few vintage perfume bottles I’d collected over the years — some ancient, others newer, but all meaningful. Some for their scent. Others for the memories. I filled the drawers with a bit of makeup and a few accessories, just in case. Found an antique bookshelf and after some TLC I filled it with my favourite romance novels, a few photos, and knickknacks.

Finally, I found an Aubusson rug — cream with soft romantic patterns — perfect for beneath the loveseat. I always take off my shoes here. The rug’s softness under my soles reminds me that this place is mine. Only mine.

I’d even considered painting the walls, but something about the exposed concrete and creeping ivy… it felt more honest.

The room is lit only by the soft glow of dozens of candles — most just for decoration, rarely lit. But they make it feel warmer. Like home.

First, I head to the vanity, lifting one leg over the other to unbuckle my heels. They come off with practiced ease. I stretch my foot — a habit I’ve kept, even though pain is long gone — and point my painted red toes out. Then I do the same with the other, setting them neatly beside the vanity stool.

Barefoot now, I pad over to the couch. The moment I sink into it and curl my feet beneath me, velvet against my skin, my eyes close on instinct.

Finally, I can breathe again.

That’s when I finally notice the vibration of my phone. Looking at it, I see several messages from everyone... Apparently, Edward told the others and sent them out on a full-blown blood hunt.

Not wanting to worry them more than necessary, I quickly type a message to Edward: “I just needed some breathing room. So... please, call off your bloodhounds.” After a moment of hesitation, I add, “And thanks... for your concern, even if you can be a bit of a pain sometimes.” I hit send, then toss my phone to the other side of the loveseat.

But before I can relax, I sense something — or more specifically, someone. Alice.

“Rosalie? Are you here?” a voice calls out from inside the mill. How the hell didn’t I notice her sooner? Alice probably already knows where I am. Being this close, she can sense my presence. And if not that, then definitely by scent — I do tend to wear heavy perfume, after all.

“Up here,” I respond reluctantly, already feeling a painful sting as the privacy of this place fades away.

The moment she enters the room, she can’t help but smile as she looks around.

“So this is the place you’ve been sneaking off to these past two years... and from the looks of it, you’ve definitely made it your own,” she says before vanishing from sight, reappearing seated on the edge of the couch — probably right where my phone landed.

Looking at her, clearly annoyed, I ask the question that’s been gnawing at me. “How did you find me? Did everyone know about this place and just humor me?”

“Well, no... I don’t think so, at least,” Alice says, her tone light but tinged with concern. “And I promise I won’t tell anyone about this place. Heck, I won’t even come back unless it’s an emergency. I know you need your space sometimes. And while I don’t fully get it myself, I do understand why you’d need it,” she adds with a soft, supportive smile.

“As for how I found you — well, that’s kind of a funny story,” she says, grinning like she knows something I don’t.

“And?” I prompt.

“Well, ever since we moved here, there’ve been rumors about a haunted mill in the forest,” she says, still wearing that stupid grin. “Something about hearing furniture being moved around, strange noises, and of course... random objects being thrown from a particular window.”

“Seriously? That’s how you found me?” I ask, almost impressed.

She nods. “I was never completely sure, but I’ve always had a hunch this might be where you were sneaking off to.”

“Then why didn’t you ever come by to check?” I ask, my tone genuinely curious now.

Her expression shifts slightly — serious, which is rare for Alice. “Well... I’ve always felt you were a little different from the rest of us,” she says gently, clearly trying not to push any buttons.

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to explain.

“Not in a bad way, of course. None of us are truly the same — we all have our own likes, comforts, safe spaces,” she adds with a small smile. “It’s just that... I always felt like Emmett, Carlisle, Esme and I found comfort in each other more easily. But you, Jasper, and Edward — it always seemed to depend on the situation.”

“Jasper?” I ask, a little surprised. “Aren’t you two attached at the hip?”

Alice can’t help but smile, clearly thinking of him the way I should be thinking of Emmett... instead of Elodie.

“I’m not denying that,” she says softly. “But even when he’s near me, he often disappears into his own head. There’ve been times I was talking to him and realized he hadn’t heard a single word. I’m not saying he ignores me, but... I can tell he gets lost in his thoughts — whether by choice or not,” she finishes, her tone turning somber.

“What about me and Edward?” I ask, lightly steering the conversation away from Jasper. I know talking about his trauma isn’t easy for her.

“Well, Edward’s easier to find at home. Easier than you are, I mean. He either gets lost in a book or goes for walks around the property. But you?” She glances around the space. “You take the cake.”

“Well…” I start, trying to justify myself, but she gently places a hand on my knee to stop me.

“You don’t owe me or anyone an explanation. You deserve to spend your time however you want. Just... in the future, let us know before going AWOL. I get that you probably needed space, but we still worry,” she says, her smile as gentle as ever.

And in that moment, I’m reminded of why Alice and I have always been so close — like the sister I never had. Despite how different we are, we understand each other more than you’d expect. I can’t help but return the smile.

A quiet moment passes before she jumps back in.

“So... considering Edward told us you basically ran out of biology class, does that mean my vision came true?” she asks, hesitant.

But a part of me needs to open up to someone before I explode. And no one is better than Alice for that.

“Worse,” I say quietly, guilt heavy in my voice.

“Worse than the vision? How is that even possible?” she asks, confused.

“I... I liked it, Alice. I liked the way she looked at me. Her stupid scent. The way her hand felt undermine... and I hate myself for enjoying every second of  it . Emmett deserves better,” I confess, my voice cracking under the weight of guilt and shame.

Alice doesn’t respond right away. I can see she’s thinking — trying to find something to say that won’t hurt me or betray Emmett.

Eventually, I decide it’s time to tell her what I’ve never told anyone.

“Did I... Did I ever tell you the story of my life before I shifted?” I ask carefully.

“Well, duh,” she replies, her cheerfulness oddly unfitting for the subject.

“Well, Alice, the truth is... I didn’t tell you the whole story. To be honest, I’ve never told anyone about it. Not Carlisle, not Esme, not Edward... not even Emmett. It’s a dark secret I’ve been carrying for a long time.”

I pause, then add seriously, “But if I tell you, you have to promise you won’t tell a soul. Not even Jasper.”

It takes her a moment before she answers. It’s obvious that keeping secrets — especially from the family — doesn’t sit well with her.

“I promise,” she says, her tone slightly uncomfortable... but full of conviction.

“Back then… when I met that bastard,” I say, the hatred in my voice unmistakable. “My family fired some of the house staff. I don’t even remember why. That’s when I met Clara.”

Just saying her name cracks something in me. The hurt returns with a vengeance — the sting of a future that was stolen before it even began.

“At first, I didn’t care much for her. I mean… she was just the help, after all. But over time, I started noticing things. The way she looked at me when she thought I wasn’t watching. The deep breaths she’d take when I passed by, like my scent alone excited her.”

“Clara wasn’t the most outspoken person. It was clear she kept a lot to herself. One day, after being dragged around like some trophy—meeting his filthy friends and all those people I couldn’t care less about—we had a slight… tiff.”

“With Roy—” Alice starts, but I cut her off with a sharp look. She nods in understanding.

“I came home. Took off my gloves. That’s when I saw the bruise he left.”

I hate how weak I was then. Alice’s expression shifts — her eyes darken, jaw clenched. The fury is palpable, especially from someone as relentlessly optimistic as her.

“I was about to leave the room when I felt an oddly calloused hand gently grab my sleeve. It stopped me.”

Despite the ache, I smile faintly at the memory.

“She had the most beautiful hazel eyes I’ve ever seen. The way she looked at me… it was this strange mix of adoration, concern, and something like anger — but not at me. She asked what had happened. Of course, I lied. Said I bumped into something. But she saw right through me. Still, she didn’t push. Just asked if I’d let her treat it.”

My voice softens.

“And for some damn reason… I agreed.”

“We went into the bathroom. I told her where the first aid kit was. She asked me to take off my blouse.”

Alice’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Don’t give me that look,” I say, my tone guarded. “Nothing inappropriate happened.”

I continue, slower now.

“I’d been partially undressed in front of women before — fittings and whatever — but this time I froze. Not out of fear, but because of this strange mix of nervousness… and excitement. I’d never felt anything like it. Not for a man. And definitely not for him.

“She was proper, though. When she saw me hesitate, she turned around to give me privacy. And when she treated my bruise, she was nothing but professional… but to me, it still felt intimate.

“Back then, all I’d ever done was kiss a boy once. I was saving myself for marriage. But her touch—gentle, sure, but rough in its own way—awoke something in me that terrified and thrilled me at the same time.”

I exhale, remembering.

“At first, I tried to ignore it. Deny it. I mean, could you imagine? A girl from my class falling for a woman—and not just any woman, but a maid? Scandalous.”

I shake my head.

“It took a while, but I finally got the courage. About a month later, after admitting to myself I couldn’t stop thinking about her, I called Clara to my room one evening.”

Alice’s eyes widen slightly.

“Like I said—nothing happened,” I reassure her. “She came in, asked what I needed. I told her… I just needed someone to talk to. She didn’t hesitate.”

My voice grows fond.

“That night, I learned more about her. She grew up on a farm outside the city — lived with her parents and younger brother. The farm was struggling, so she looked for work and was shocked to get a job with a family as high-class as mine. Not that she cared about the status — she was just surprised we hired her at all.”

“After that night, it became a pattern. Not every day, but when we had a chance, I’d invite her. Sometimes I’d prepare a little treat for us. I wasn’t great at cooking, but the chefs helped me, and I’d hide something special in the fridge. We’d share it in my room when we were alone.

“One night, I asked her about the way she looked at me sometimes. She froze. She looked so afraid… and without thinking, I placed my hand over hers.”

I close my eyes, remembering that electric feeling.

“When our eyes met, it felt like being struck by lightning. We sat there, breathless for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Then she told me. That she’d always known she wasn’t attracted to men. That she preferred women. But she could never admit it — not to anyone. Because if she did, her life would be over.”

I swallow thickly.

“She was so vulnerable in that moment. I had to tell her the truth. So I did. About the sham engagement. About the night she treated my bruise. About how I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since.”

“And after that… things changed between us. We never did anything reckless or public. But we’d sit together — a little closer than before. Sometimes I’d rest on her thighs and she’d run her fingers through my hair. They were small, quiet moments, but they meant more to me than anything I’d experienced with him.”

I pause. My voice wavers slightly.

“One day, I’d had enough. I couldn’t keep living a lie. I asked Clara if she’d run away with me.”

Alice leans in, holding her breath.

“For the longest time… she just stared at me. Then she broke down crying. And said yes.”

That memory breaks something in me. If I had any tears left, I’d be crying now.

“I planned to write a letter to my parents. I knew I’d need help, so I went to the only other person I trusted — Vera. I told her everything. She hugged me and promised to help when the day came.

“But it got late. I went home. And that’s when I saw him.”

My voice hardens.

“When he was drunk, his mask slipped. He’d say the most vile, sexist things. That night was no different. And finally, I snapped. Told him the engagement was off.”

I trail off, unable to say more.

Alice gently squeezes my hand.

“Did you… did you ever see her? After Carlisle turned you?” she asks softly, sadness coloring her voice.

“No,” I whisper. “I wanted to. So badly. But after everything… I knew she wouldn’t recognize me. Not like this.”

Alice frowns, pain and frustration on her face.

“So that’s it? You didn’t even try to send a letter? Nothing?”

Her voice isn’t angry — just heartbroken for both of us.

“I didn’t contact her directly,” I say, voice low. “But before we left the city, I tracked down her home. Her little brother answered the door. He looked so much like her it physically hurt.”

I swallow hard.

“I knelt down and gave him the only valuable thing I had — the diamond ring that monster gave me when he proposed. I couldn’t wear it. I didn’t want it. But I knew her family needed it more than I ever would.”

“I asked him to give it to Clara. Told him to tell her I was sorry. And then I left.”

I take a breath, closing the memory tight again.

“I never went back. It was too painful.”

You and Alice just sit there for a few minutes—she’s clearly processing everything you’ve told her, while you’re left to battle the onslaught of emotions still churning inside.

Then finally, she speaks.

“…And this girl,” she begins softly, “does she remind you of her?”

"I lift my gaze to meet hers—and just nod, slow and heavy, like the truth’s been sitting on my chest this whole time."

After that, we don’t say much more. She just stays there beside me, helping me sit with the pain, not rushing it or trying to fix it. Just present. Just… there.

When the bell rings, marking the end of the second-to-last class, she shifts a little and says gently, “Will you be okay if I—”

I stop her mid-sentence.

“Yes,” I whisper, almost under my breath. “I’m not some sort of weakling… not anymore.” My fists clench as I say it—but it’s clear she heard me.

She hesitates, her voice low but firm. “You were never a weakling to begin with, Rosie.”

She offers the kindest smile she can manage.

But before she can leave, I disappear for a beat—then reappear right behind her, stopping her in her tracks.

“Thank you,” I say, quiet but sincere.

And then I let her go.

 After Alice left, I couldn’t bring myself to leave—not yet.
So I settled back onto the loveseat and stared off into the distance, hoping the layered sounds and scents of the forest would help settle my nerves. But Elodie…
She stayed lodged in my thoughts. No matter how hard I tried to focus on anything else, her face kept coming back. That moment in biology—the way our eyes met, the stillness, the pull—I hadn’t felt anything like that in years.
Not since Clara.
It felt just like that night, when everything shifted between us. And somehow… I knew. History was about to repeat itself.

About thirty minutes later, I checked my phone. The bell would be ringing soon for the last class of the day—but what caught my attention was a new message from Edward:

I’m going to the school’s main office to try switching out of biology. Since we’re in a similar situation… you coming?

I replied instantly with a simple:
Yes.

Then I took off.

I didn’t stop until I reached the edge of the clearing, where I slowed just in time to hear the bell ring. Letting my pace return to something casual, I walked toward the main office by the parking lot, wind brushing my hair as I moved.

Edward was already waiting outside. He looked tense, still visibly affected—but trying to hold it together. He wore that perfect, practiced mask… better than I did, anyway.

As I approached, I said flatly, “Let’s get this over with.”
Then I walked into the office like I owned the place. Confidence solves half the problem—or at least, that’s what they always told you growing up.

“Shouldn’t we—” Edward started, then sighed and followed after me without finishing the thought.

Before I could even open my mouth, Edward jumped in—clearly trying to avoid a scene.

“Good afternoon,” he said, pausing briefly to glance at her nameplate before continuing, “Ms. Cope. My sister and I were wondering if it might be possible to change classes.”

He used that polite, measured tone he always relied on around humans. A part of me couldn’t help but envy how patient he could be.

Ms. Cope looked up from whatever she’d been typing on that ancient-looking computer. “Which class? And what’s your reason for the change?”

For a moment, Edward hesitated—and honestly, I couldn’t blame him. What were we supposed to say? That he couldn’t bear sitting next to Bella Swan, and I was tempted to cheat on my boyfriend because of a stranger’s scent? Yeah… not exactly an argument that would hold up.

But Edward was always the smartest among us. Well, aside from Carlisle.

“We’re having some trouble with a classmate,” he said smoothly. “We feel we’d be able to focus better if we were transferred.”

The look the secretary gave us was somewhere between dread and pity, and I hated it.

“I’m sorry, but if it involves another student—especially anything like bullying or harassment—you’ll need to go through the principal,” she said with a sympathetic smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’d decide whether to change your class… or theirs.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do at all?” Edward pressed.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Cullen. But changing even a single class affects the whole schedule. Without proper authorization, I could get into serious trouble myself.”

That’s when I snapped. Edward’s method clearly wasn’t working—so it was my turn.

“What do you mean you can’t change our classes?” I asked, pouring every ounce of irritation into my voice.

Beside me, Edward suddenly went stiff—like he noticed something. But I wasn’t paying attention to that. Not yet.

“I’ve told you both already,” she said, sounding tired now, “I can’t switch a single class without rewriting your entire schedules. And biology is full. Changing it would affect other students as well.”

“Then change that,” I snapped back.

Edward looked at me sharply. “Don’t,” he muttered—but I couldn’t stop. I had to get out of that class. If I didn’t… I was screwed.

“Like I said, Miss Cullen,” the secretary replied more firmly, “I need a valid reason. And reworking multiple schedules just because you want to avoid someone? That’s not good enough.”

Avoid someone? If only it were that simple, I thought bitterly.

But before I could get another word in, Edward cut me off. “Thank you either way,” he said quickly, and practically dragged me out of the office.

Once we were outside, I turned on him. “What the hell is wron—”

He stopped me mid-sentence with just a look. “Not here. Not now.”

And that’s when I noticed it. Her scent.

She was nearby. She might have heard everything.

The thought hit me like a punch to the chest. That she might know. That I might have already pushed her away.

It stung.

I didn’t want to get any closer to her… but the idea that I’d already ruined it before anything had even begun?

That hurt more than I expected.

I just nodded, quietly, and followed Edward toward the parking lot.

As we near Edward’s Volvo, I can’t help myself.

“I know why I wanted to change classes,” I say, glancing at him. “But why did you?”

He exhales, looking almost… ashamed. “It’s her scent. It was driving me crazy—especially that close. I was afraid I’d lose control.”

“Well, that explains why you completely ignored her in class,” I mutter, mostly to myself. “And since she’s the first human whose mind you can’t read… yeah, that definitely complicates things.”

Edward gives me a sidelong look. “What about you? Why were you trying to change classes?”

But before I can answer, we reach the car, and the rest of the family is already there. Emmett, of course, is the first to react—scooping me into one of his bear hugs.

“Feelin’ better now?” he whispers against my hair.

Usually, one of his signature hugs is all I need after a crap day… but today, it only makes the guilt sink deeper. Alice, ever the observant one, notices the shift in me and steps in.

“Give me the keys,” she says brightly, holding out her hand.

Edward raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want to drive today, silly.”

Backing out of Emmett’s arms, I turn to her. “Is that the smartest idea?”

She rolls her eyes in the most theatrical, playful way. “What’s the worst that could happen, Rosalie?”

“I could think of a few scenar—” I begin, but she cuts me off with a dramatic pout.

“Keys. Please,” she says, grinning widely.

With a reluctant sigh, Edward reaches into his pocket and hands them over.

“Rosie, you’re riding shotgun,” Alice announces, as if everything’s going perfectly according to plan.

We pile into the car, me in the front seat, and Alice takes off. As we pull out of the parking lot, it begins to drizzle, soft raindrops streaking the windshield. For the most part, the ride is smooth. Calm. Uneventful.

Until it isn’t.

We're halfway down a narrow road when Alice suddenly stiffens. Her eyes go cloudy—gone somewhere else entirely—her fingers tightening around the steering wheel, her foot pressing harder on the gas.

But the worst part? She's not the only one appearing out of nowhere.

She’s there.

In the middle of the road.

Soaked from the rain. Arms stretched wide as if shielding something behind her.

I snap to attention. “Alice!” I shout, trying to break through whatever vision has taken hold.

Edward hears my thoughts shift—panic hitting me all at once. “Try to pull her foot off the pedal!” he shouts, voice sharp with urgency.

But before I can even move, Alice blinks hard—coming back to herself just in time to slam on the brakes.

We screech to a stop just feet away from the girl.

I'm seething. “Is she trying to get herself killed?” I bark, louder than I mean to.

Edward’s eyes are wide. “She… she was protecting a kitten,” he says, stunned.

“She risked her life… for a cat?” Emmett echoes, clearly bewildered.

Alice, unusually quiet, reaches for the door handle, but Edward stops her with a firm, “Don’t.”

She turns to him, confused.

“There are too many people around,” he says calmly. “You snapped out of it in time. No harm done. Once they’re out of the way, we just go home. Okay?”

Alice nods, still dazed. It takes a few long moments before Elodie and—presumably—her mom move off the road.

And honestly, I can’t blame them.

A part of me wants to run to her. Yell. Shake her. Ask her what the hell she was thinking.

But another part of me… admires her.

What she did was reckless, sure. But it also took a kind of courage. A fierce, unflinching kindness. The kind of selflessness I’ve only seen in a few rare souls.

The kind that reminds me—uncomfortably—of someone I know.

Alice drives slowly now, the mood in the car tense and heavy with silence. Eventually, Jasper speaks, trying to ease the tension.

“What did you see?” he asks softly.

Alice hesitates.

“It was a vision,” she says finally. “Of that girl. Meeting someone at the mill.”

And I freeze.

If my heart could beat, it would be thundering now.

Because I only know one mill near the school.

And if Elodie ends up there…

Then I might be the someone she’s meant to meet.