AN HOUR LATER
ISABELLA
Dinner was already laid out by the time we reached the dining room. That alone nearly broke me. The long table gleamed softly under the chandelier, silverware aligned with obsessive precision, steam curling up from covered dishes. The smell hit me next: warm bread, roasted vegetables, herbs, butter, and apples baked somewhere deep into dessert. Bella's favorite dinner. My favorite dinner. The kind of meal that didn't ask questions, didn't demand excellence, only presence, James pulled out my chair.
"For you, Lady Isabella." He said gently.
I sat down. Rosalie sat across from me, Charlie took the head of the table like he always had, posture straight but shoulders looser than they had been in years. For a few minutes, we ate in silence. Not awkward, careful. The kind of silence where everyone is afraid that if they speak, something precious might shatter.
"This is good." I said quietly, after a bite of roasted chicken nearly melted on my tongue.
