𝐻𝑜𝓃𝑒𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝒶𝓇 | E.C

The relentless drizzle of Forks, Washington, was a stark contrast to the sunny familiarity of South Dakota, a quiet reminder of everything Honey Marygold had lost. She stood in her new room, a space that was both alien and surprisingly comforting, the round walls of the old house embracing her like a gentle hug. Her grandmother, Eden, had just left, her youthful smile and warm aura a perplexing comfort in this new, uncertain chapter.

The room, though sparsely furnished, felt like a canvas for new beginnings. A fluffy yellow blanket lay on the bed, a splash of sunshine in the perpetual twilight of Forks. Honey's gaze drifted to the window, the rain-streaked glass reflecting her own somber expression. She missed her mother, a ache that was still raw and sharp, despite her attempts at acceptance. One day at a time, she reminded herself, a mantra against the encroaching sadness.

Later, the smell of pizza and the comforting sound of popcorn popping drifted up from downstairs. Granny Eden's thoughtful gestures were slowly mending a part of Honey's fractured heart. But as she descended, a sudden knock at the door paused her. It wasn't the pizza delivery. Instead, standing on the porch, were a man and a girl, their faces kind but unfamiliar, their presence the first true interaction with the outside world of Forks.