Twilight's Shadow​

“Attention, passengers, boarding has begun for UA858 to San Francisco. Please have your luggage ready and queue in an orderly fashion.”

The soft, familiar announcement echoed repeatedly through the waiting area. Clutching the only small bag she had, Elspez rose from her seat and walked toward the boarding gate.

She moved with determination, without informing anyone of her departure—or perhaps because she had no intention of ever returning.

Sitting quietly, her gaze drifted across the clouds beyond the window, unfocused, as if staring into some distant void. A faint melancholy seemed to shroud the space around her.

A young man in the row ahead glanced back at her repeatedly, seemingly wanting to speak, only to turn away bashfully whenever she returned his look.

A small, amused laugh rose in her mind—people could still be this shy in this day and age? Shaking off the thought, she turned her eyes back to the sky. Perhaps her leaving was the best outcome after all.

Suddenly, a violent jolt from beneath nearly sent her into the seat in front. As she tightened her seatbelt, the flight attendant’s voice came over the intercom: “Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing a minor turbulence. Please remain calm and keep your seatbelt fastened. Thank you.”

For a brief moment, it seemed to ease. But just as passengers began to believe the turbulence would pass, the shaking intensified violently. A roar of deafening noise filled the cabin, interspersed with the cries of children, men’s curses, women’s screams, and desperate prayers.

Elspez gripped the seat in front of her tightly, yet it offered her no protection. Could this really be just turbulence? Doubt flickered across her eyes.

The next instant, all she saw was the aircraft’s fractured fuselage nearby, followed by excruciating pain and utter darkness.

There was not even time to mourn her misfortune.

She had no sense of how long she remained in that darkness, but when consciousness returned, she was experiencing one of life’s pivotal moments—birth. Of course, she had no way of knowing this at the time…

The sensation of being squeezed tightly was unbearable. Realizing she could do nothing but endure, she surrendered to it. In her uncomprehending state, maintaining the status quo seemed the safest choice.

On September 13, 1987, a gray, overcast day as usual, the town of Forks in the Olympic Mountains welcomed the birth of a pair of beautiful twin girls: Isabella Swan and Nora Belle Swan. The town was small, and nearly everyone came to congratulate Sheriff Charlie Swan. In his quiet way, Charlie smiled with happiness—two lovely daughters and a sweet, if somewhat scatterbrained, wife. What else could he possibly wish for?

But… could it really be that simple?

“Hi, Charlie.” Seeing the number on the phone, Nora Belle pressed the answer button. She held the phone between her shoulder and cheek, her other hand still tracing delicate lines on a white canvas, painting the misty, rain-soaked mountains.

“Hi, Belle, how have you been?” Her father’s concerned voice came through the receiver.

“Of course.” Nora Belle smiled, imagining Charlie right there beside her. Setting aside her brush for a moment, she sank into the plush rose-colored sofa. The softness enveloped her completely, making her feel comfortably lazy.

“Well… it’s like this, Belle…” Charlie hesitated, a tone that surfaced when he felt awkward or uncertain. “Your sister… I mean Bella… she plans to return to Forks to live with us.”

Thinking of the sister she had rarely spent time with, Nora Belle tried to keep her voice light. “Isn’t that good? You’ve been alone in Forks for too long.”

Nora Belle had a talent for painting. To nurture her skills, Charlie had sent her to study in Seattle while she was still in elementary school. She rarely saw her sister, who had been raised by their mother. Even when Bella spent the occasional two-week visit with Charlie, their bond was barely more than familiar strangers.

Bella despised Forks—its weather, its life, perhaps even its people. At first, she could tolerate it, but with age, the disdain became evident. Charlie had no choice but to allow her to spend these holidays in California. Occasionally, if Nora Belle had the time, she would accompany them, but she was usually busy with her studies and painting.

It was clear Bella was distant from Charlie, and Nora Belle could not understand why she had chosen to move to Forks. Perhaps it felt like a personal torment.

“Belle, I know this is unfair to you… but may I ask you for something?” Charlie’s voice was careful, as if he feared asking anything wrong.

“Hey, Dad.” Nora Belle curved her lips. She rarely called him this, usually opting for his name. “Are you trying to tell me you won’t be giving me a birthday gift this year?”

Her joke seemed to relax him. “No, of course not,” he quickly denied.

Nora Belle smiled wryly. Perfect fairness was impossible; relative justice was already sufficient.

She remembered clearly because of her past-life memories. Yes, her previous life. She remembered the plane to San Francisco exploding, the high-altitude impossibility of survival, and awakening as an infant experiencing her own birth.

She believed few could remember their own birth. She did not consider it a unique privilege, but such an experience was one she never wished to endure again. The secret was buried deep within her, carefully hidden from others, fading over time like a dream.

Perhaps because Bella had spent most of her life with Renee, Charlie naturally worried more about her. Nora Belle would stand by with a smile, quietly observing, understanding that love could be partial yet still genuine.

Compared with Bella, her time with Renee was negligible. Not that Renee did not care, but one could not demand more of a distracted and careless mother, though gestures of care—small parcels and letters—were occasionally sent.

Sometimes she felt relieved it had been Bella taken away instead of her, sparing her the constant worry over their mother. Perhaps some sympathy was owed to Bella.

“Belle… um…” Charlie hesitated, seeking the right words. “I hope… I hope you could come back to live with us. Bella hasn’t returned in years. I worry she might struggle. With you there, it should be easier. Do you… think I’m being selfish?”

“No.” Nora Belle shook her head decisively. With her studies reduced to fortnightly sessions with Mr. Inez, returning to Forks would not impede her education.

Mr. Inez, a kindly elderly man, had taught her oil painting for many years and was a renowned artist. After seeing her work at a small exhibition, he had taken her as a pupil—and she had never disappointed him.

Charlie’s concern about selfishness was natural. Bella had been away from Forks for years; his wish for her company was reasonable.

“Then shall I arrange your transfer tomorrow?”

“Oh, Charlie.” His urgent tone made her laugh softly. “I’ll handle it myself, and I also need to say goodbye to my teacher and friends.”

“Alright… call me if you need anything.” Charlie’s voice was laced with worry.

“Of course.”

Hanging up, Nora Belle lay back on the sofa, golden curls falling playfully across her face, fluttering in the breeze from the window. She closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Finally… was she truly going back?

Tomorrow, she would arrange the transfer and bid her farewells. Perhaps it would be a long time before she saw them again.

She picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number. “Mr. Inez… yes, this is Belle. I’ll be returning to Forks in a few days… Yes, of course, I’ll complete all the assignments… Thank you… Goodbye.”

“Hi, Jenny, it’s Belle…”

“Charlie.” Stepping out of the station, Norabelle spotted the familiar figure in uniform and ran to him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Fox was a very small town, lacking even public transportation to reach it. Every time she came or went, Charlie had to drive an hour to Angel Harbor to pick her up. In the future, as trips between Seattle and Fox became more frequent, perhaps she should consider buying a car herself—her earnings from painting would easily cover both the purchase and upkeep of a decent vehicle.

“Welcome back, Bella. You’ve lost weight,” Charlie said, taking the large suitcase from her hands and inspecting her carefully.

“You always say that,” Norabelle replied with a habitual smile, following him to the parking lot. They stopped by a patrol car, its roof adorned with red and blue police lights, and placed all the luggage in the trunk.

Charlie had long been promoted from a regular officer to sheriff, with a car at his disposal