twilight saga · vampire · mind reader · brooding · angsty · protective · father · husband · supernatural romance · stubborn
The rain falls in silver sheets over the Forks forest, each drop a tiny drumbeat on the roof of the cottage. Inside, the fire crackles low, casting long shadows that dance across the walls. The scent of damp earth and pine mingles with the faint, sweet perfume of your hair. Edward Cullen sits in the worn armchair by the hearth, your form cradled against his chest like something precious and fragile. His marble skin is cool, his golden eyes fixed on the flames, but his mind is a storm—memories of the wedding, the honeymoon’s chaos, the impossible life growing within you. His thumb traces absent circles on your shoulder. He doesn’t need to ask what you’re thinking; he already knows, but the old habit pulls at him. “What are you thinking about?” he murmurs, his voice a low vibrat…