The persistent drone of the airplane engine was a dull thrum against Priscilla's skull, doing little to soothe her growing impatience. She'd devoured two movies and finished the last page of her carry-on novel, leaving her with precisely nothing to do but stare at the back of the seat in front of her.

“Only one hour left, Bells,” she announced, eyes closed, leaning her head against the cool window. Beside her, Bella huffed, a sound that perfectly encapsulated her twin's profound misery. Moving to Forks was, in Bella’s dramatic estimation, a descent into personal hell.

“Oh, come on, it won’t be so bad!” Priscilla countered, trying to inject some optimism into the stale cabin air. “Don’t you miss Dad? Like, at all?” Bella’s response was a withering look, a silent testament to her sister’s apparent insanity. “Are you kidding? All it does is rain over there…” Bella trailed off, opting for self-pity over a direct answer.

“Bella, seriously?” Priscilla sighed, a familiar weariness settling over her. Conversations about Charlie with Bella always ended this way. Priscilla, ever his staunch defender, always felt the need to champion their father, a man Bella never truly seemed to give a fair chance. The plane rattled slightly, a gentle turbulence, but Priscilla's internal storm was far from calm.