A full year passed in Forks before loss, arrived.
It came gently.
Charlie's parents went within weeks of each other, not from anything sudden or cruel, but from the long, patient wearing-down of time. There were no frantic hospital corridors, no dramatic last words—just steady breathing that grew softer until it stopped.
Renee was there for all of it.
She handled the practical things when Charlie couldn't. Paperwork. Meals. Quiet mornings when grief made even getting dressed feel impossible. She never offered potions, never even considered them. Death, like memory, was a boundary she would not cross.
The system didn't ask her to.
Instead, it remained quiet—observant, respectful.
---
The funeral was small. Forks showed up in the way it always did: casseroles, folded hands, nods that said we see you. Renee stood beside Charlie, her hand warm against his back, steady without claiming.
Afterward, when the house felt too empty, they sat together at the kitchen table long after the last guest left. The clock ticked. The rain whispered against the windows.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," Charlie said finally, voice rough.
Renee didn't rush to fill the silence.
"You don't have to know," she said softly. "You just have to keep going. I'll walk with you while you do."
He looked at her then—not with desperation, not with need—but with recognition.
"That's what you've been doing this whole time," he said.
She nodded. "Yes."
That was all.
---
Their relationship didn't change overnight.
There was no grand declaration, no dramatic shift. Just a quiet, mutual understanding that settled between them like a shared breath.
One evening, weeks later, Charlie stopped at Honey & Hearth after closing. Renee was wiping down the counter, the café dim and peaceful.
"I don't want to assume anything," he said carefully. "But… I don't want to do this alone anymore."
She set the cloth down and met his eyes.
"I didn't want to rush," she replied. "But I don't want to pretend this isn't real."
He exhaled, relief softening his expression. "So we're… choosing each other?"
"Yes," she said. "Without fear. Without timelines."
"No proposals," he added with a faint smile.
She laughed quietly. "Definitely no proposals."
They kissed then—not as a beginning, but as a confirmation.
---
Later that night, the system finally spoke.
[SYSTEM STATUS UPDATE]
[PRIMARY ANCHOR CONFIRMED
Charlie Swan — Emotional Stability Source
Anchor Type: MUTUAL
Risk of Dependency: LOW
Relational Health: HIGH]
Renee felt the truth of it settle in her chest—not as a tether, but as a balance.
She hadn't built her life around him.
She had built a life that could hold love when it arrived.
The system logged the mission completion without fanfare.
[MISSION COMPLETE]
[Choose Each Other Without Fear
Reward: +10,000 SC]
Renee turned off the lights in the café and stepped into the cool night air. Forks was quiet, fog curling through the streets like a familiar presence.
Grief had come.
Love had stayed.
And for the first time in either of her lives, she knew what it meant to remain—not out of fear of being alone, but because she had chosen to.