(Thomas POV)
The higher we climbed, the quieter the forest became.
The air shifted first, cooler, thinner, carrying the faint mineral bite that always came with altitude. Sound changed second: birdsong fading, wind threading through the pines in low, hollow tones that echoed somewhere far below.
And then there was Edythe's hand in mine.
Her grip wasn't tight. It never had to be.
Just steady.
Grounding.
Like she knew I needed the feel of her fingers laced through mine more than I needed breath.
We stepped over a patch of roots twisting across the trail, and she glanced at me again, one of those sideways check-ins so subtle only someone who knew her well would catch it.
"You're thinking too loudly," she murmured. "I can almost hear you. A faint murmur in my mind."
I snorted. "Trying to hear anything particular? I remember you telling me you had to focus on someone's mind unlike Edward who just hears everyone around him."
"No," she said, almost smiling. "You just seem a little amped up and nervous today. I reached out on impulse without realizing I had, and was surprised to hear anything."
I squeezed her hand and smiled, "Nothing to worry over, just my mind trying to plan stuff that doesn't really need a plan. You know, the stuff all high schooler's do at the end of mandatory schooling."
We kept walking, the incline growing steeper until the trees began to thin and the light brightened. Granite jutted through the earth here and there, and patches of moss clung stubbornly to the stone. The mountain opened itself to us one step at a time.
And then the trail spilled out onto the narrow ledge.
The one she'd brought me to once before, to show me what she looked like under the sun. Where she halfway expected to lose me because of her abnormality, as she saw it.
The one etched into my memory with surgical clarity, a place suspended between sky and stone.
From the ledge, the world stretched out in rolling waves of forest below us, distant ridgelines fading into pale blue haze. No one ever came out this far; it was too steep, too hidden, too easy to miss if you didn't know what you were looking for.
Which was exactly why Edythe loved it and why I was coming to love it as well.
And again, why it was perfect.
She stepped onto the stone, wind lifting her hair in a soft arc. Even in the shade, she glowed faintly, not enough to give away anything supernatural, just enough to make her look like she didn't quite belong to gravity.
Her expression softened. "I haven't been here since… before."
Before Nepal.
Before everything changed.
Before the person I had become stood beside her now.
"It's still beautiful," I said quietly.
She looked at me then, the smile small but real. "It is."
I spread the blanket out near the shelter of the trees where shade curved over the stone. She lowered herself gracefully onto it, drawing her knees up, arms resting lightly around them. I sat beside her, close but not quite touching.
She didn't rush anything.
She never did.
After a moment, her shoulder brushed mine. Just a soft, familiar contact that told me more than any words could.
"Thank you for suggesting this," she said. "Today felt… suffocating. Like the sun made everything too exposed."
Then, quieter: "Being here with you… it feels like breathing again."
There it was, that small fracture in her perfection that she only ever let me see.
And I loved her for it.
"Edythe…" I said, voice rougher than it should've been.
She lifted her head, eyes bright in the shaded light.
The words were there.
Right behind my teeth.
Will you marry me?
Almost.
Not yet.
One more breath.
Instead, I said, "This place means a lot to me too."
She tilted her head. "Because of the view?"
"No." I turned to her fully. "Because it's where you trusted me, where you were willing to bare your soul to me. Even if you half expected that in doing so you would lose me."
Something flickered behind her eyes, quick, deep, impossible to miss.
"Thomas…" she whispered.
Wind pressed through the branches overhead, stirring the edges of the blanket. A beam of sunlight pierced the canopy, brushing over her hand.
She didn't pull away.
She let the light touch her.
It refracted faintly across her skin, subtle, not enough to expose her secret, but enough to remind me of the first time I saw her like this.
"You aren't afraid I'll stare?" I asked softly.
"I… no," she murmured. "Not with you."
I reached out, fingers brushing hers, letting the filtered sunlight hit us both.
"Let me tell you a secret. I will always stare," I said. "But never for the reason you're afraid of."
Her breath hitched, tiny, sharp, human in its vulnerability. She pressed her forehead briefly against mine.
"Thomas…" This time my name wasn't caution.
It was something tender. Hopeful.
Her hand tightened around mine, cool and steady.
This was it.
Not fear.
Not doubt.
Just absolute clarity.
The ring in my pocket felt impossibly heavy.
I shifted slightly, heart hammering, and reached into my pocket.
Her eyes widened, not in fear, but in dawning, shimmering understanding.
The filtered sunlight glimmered faintly across her skin, scattering tiny prisms over her knuckles where our hands were joined.
"Edythe…"
My voice felt thick and unsteady, but not uncertain.
Her lips parted just slightly.
"Yes?" she breathed.
I drew the small velvet box from my pocket, slow and deliberate, feeling the tremor in my own fingers as I brought it into the open air between us.
She inhaled sharply, no need for breath, but still taking one.
Her hands hovered, frozen.
Thomas Raizel, who had faced ancient clans, fought Dire Wolves, stood before the Volturi, and survived his self-imposed exile in the Himalayas, suddenly felt weightless and fragile.
"I brought you here," I said quietly, "because this is where everything changed for me."
She blinked, golden eyes luminous. "The sunlight?"
"No."
I shook my head, emotion thick.
"Because this is the place you trusted me. The first place you let me see who you really are. Where you stopped hiding. I know I told you that earlier, but…" Damn it, I was rambling.
So, I stopped and took a deep breath and focused again on Edythe.
Her throat worked silently. Her fingers flexed once, barely.
"I realized in my time away from you," I continued, "that I didn't want a life where you weren't in it."
The wind whispered across the cliffside, carrying the scent of cedar and stone. Her hair lifted in soft wisps.
I opened the box.
The diamond caught the faintest sliver of light and ignited, scattering pale fire across the shadows beneath the trees.
Edythe's eyes widened, slow, stunned, reverent.
"Thomas…" she whispered, voice breaking around the edges.
I shifted forward onto one knee, not because tradition dictated it, but because it felt right. Because she deserved the whole truth in a language the world understood.
Her hand flew to her lips, an old human habit she hadn't quite shaken.
"Edythe Cullen," I said, the words steady even as my pulse jackhammered, "I love you. Not because of what you are, or who your family is. Not because of danger or destiny or anything supernatural."
I swallowed.
"But because you're the person who held me together when I didn't know who I was. The person who makes the world make sense. My equal. My partner. My home."
Her eyes shone, not glittering, not glowing, just full. More emotion than vampire bodies were built to hold.
"So I'm asking," I said, lifting the ring toward her trembling hand,
"Will you marry me?"
Silence.
Huge, breathless.
Edythe didn't move, not even a blink.
For half a second, fear slashed through me.
Then she did move.
She rose from her sitting position to her knees so our faces were even so fast the blanket ripped under us, her cool hands cradling mine with a desperation that stole the breath from my lungs.
"Yes," she whispered, voice trembling like a struck chord.
"Yes, Thomas. Yes."
She pressed her forehead to mine, eyes closed, breath unnecessary but shaking anyway.
"Put it on me," she whispered, barely audible.
My hands weren't steady now. Not at all. But that didn't matter.
She extended her left hand, fingers trembling—actually trembling—and I slid the ring onto her finger.
Perfect fit.
A soft sound left her, not a sob, but something close, something ancient and fragile and full.
Then her lips were on mine, cool, fierce, reverent, her hands gripping the back of my neck like she was afraid the mountain itself might take me away.
I kissed her back, tasting sunlight and forever and everything in between.
When she finally pulled back, her voice was a whisper of awe.
"I didn't think," she said, "that forever could feel like this."
I brushed my thumb over the ring shining on her hand.
"Forever starts now. As much of it as I can give you."
And she smiled, small, breathtaking, real.
"Yes," she said. "It does."
Edythe didn't stop touching the ring.
She kept her hand lifted just slightly, turning it toward the faint threads of sunlight slipping between the trees. The diamond flashed in soft, fractured sparks. The skin of her hand also sparkled in the same way, just different colors. It made her look… alive in a way I'd never seen.
"I don't need this to know what we are," she murmured, still staring at it. "But I…" Her voice faltered for the first time since I'd known her. "I love that you wanted it."
I brushed my thumb along her knuckles. "It felt like the right way to tell you I'm not going anywhere."
Her lips curved. Not her usual calm, elegant smile. Something warmer. More human.
"I didn't think I'd ever have this," she whispered. "Not the choice. Not the chance."
"You have both," I said.
A breath of wind moved through the clearing, stirring leaves around our feet. She leaned into me then, curling herself against my side, head tucked under my jaw. I wrapped the blanket around us, even though she didn't need it, I just wanted her closer.
She traced slow circles on my chest.
"Thomas?" she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you… for choosing me."
I held her tighter.
"I always will."