hello¡ A gift for my non-shifters readers...

I hope you like this new story. The first few chpters might be a bit angsty, but that's all the angst that there will be.

Let me know what you think :)


I was 17 when the love of my life died.

I was 18 when I unexpectedly got him back.

My name is Isabella Swan, I was born in September 1901. I was the only daughter to a middle-class marriage. My parents were hard workers. My father was the police chief, while my mother was a private teacher for the rich and high that were too entitled to send their children to a normal school. We were happy, normal.

I met him. Gorgeous, lively green eyes, copper hair that was often hidden by a tall hat, but I knew I died to run my hands through those threads. He had the most enchanting smile ever, perfectly aligned white teeth, and a deep laugh that made my insides churn with sinful thoughts. My mother was more open than most women of the time. She didn't necessarily openly speak about sex, as I would imagine she'd do now, but she had a good time commenting on my ear about how gorgeous certain male were. "Such good legs" she'd whispered humorously in my ear every time we were at the park. No one suspected she was such an open-minded woman. She knew how to keep appearances. Every time we ran into him, she would nudge me on my side and tease me mercilessly. She knew how deep a crush I harvested for him.

The only son to a very rich family. His father was a lawyer, a very prestigious one. He had just graduated from school. His father wanted him to become a lawyer like him, but he wanted to join the frontline. He was awfully smart too. He played the piano in the most beautiful way you could imagine.

He was the best kisser ever, as well. He was the love of my life. My one and only. He declared his undying feelings for me, two months after he started courting me. My dad was happy that I had attracted the attention of such a good man. Of course, my dad was also concerned about my future, and wanted me to marry over my station, so landing a rich man was also part of my dad's happiness. However, my dad was the most affectionate man, both, towards my mom and me. He would leave me under the care of babysitters from time to time, so he could take my mom on night dates. My mom would come to my room at night and tell me everything about the date. How lovely the place my father had chosen was, how gentlemanly he had behaved. And how he had kissed her once they got home, knowing she would come to bid me goodnight.

I never needed anything. My dad always made sure to provide. He showered me in love, but kept his rules, and his strict ways. He allowed me on every first day of school to buy new dresses when I was little. He had a hard time when I became interested in boys when I turned sixteen. To his delight, I only showed interest in him. However, he only noticed my interest in him after I turned seventeen, and my walks in the park were more frequent. Little did he know, I had managed to learn his routine, and it was very easy to learn which days he was going to be there. I think he never noticed that little detail.

To my utter delight he paid attention to me. He walked towards me one day and asked in a very gentlemanly way if I was interested in a walk around the park with him. I didn't hesitate to join him. From that day forward our walks in the park became our new normal. He vented about his job with his father and despite the fact that he did find laws interesting, it wasn't his passion. I, on the other hand, confessed how I wanted to teach, it was my passion. I loved reading, and I had learned so many interesting things that I wanted to share that knowledge. Unfortunately, there were still those who considered women unable to enter the workforce, and job opportunities were not high for women. He always told me I could do anything. He considered me not only a pretty face, but a smart woman, and that meant everything to me. No one had ever said anything so wonderful to me, aside from my parents, and my nanny.

We had been officially dating for two months, when he told me he loved me, and he couldn't see himself ever leaving my side. My parents, and his parents often left us alone in the living room of either of our houses when we visited each other. Those were the most amazing moments of our courtship. We could be open with each other, without anyone listening, as our parents would retire to their respective home offices, or in the case of our mothers, to the kitchen or the garden. In one of those private meetings, he gifted me a delicate golden ring with a small emerald. "It's very subtle." He had said, sort of ashamed of how humble he thought the ring was. He knew I wasn't big on jewelry, which often stressed my mother and amused my father. "But I promise you with this ring that when the time is right, I will ask your father for your hand in marriage."

I sat there, watching him pull out the ring from the box and put it on the gold chain that my father, with a lot of effort, had bought me for my graduation. We put the ring on the chain and put the chain inside my clothes. No one would suspect anything, as I have always worn my gold chain since I got it.

I smiled at him, promising that I would marry him. We knew my father's approval had to be given, but he wanted to ask me first. He wouldn't ask my dad if I didn't want a life with him. Of course, I wanted a life with him. In those short two months I had learned so much about life, about him, and about love. I finally understood why my mom worried every morning when she bid good morning to my dad when he left for work. I finally understood why my mom's eyes would shine brightly when my father announced the nanny was coming over in the coming days. I finally understood my mom's eagerness to tell me about date night upon their return home. I finally understood what it was to be so deeply in love.

But the right time never came. The Spanish flu hit with a force beyond our expectations. So many people fell ill, including him. The thing was, he never recovered. I visited as often as I was allowed. I visited his parents as well. It had been the most disheartening thing I had ever done. His father died first, breaking his mother's already weak heart. He had never been a very loving father towards him, but there was still enough love between the two of them for him to be heartbroken by the news. Then, his mother recovered just enough to have a small chat with me, but the next time I visited, they told me she had died, and so had he. My heart broke, shattered into a million little pieces. His death had left an ugly hole in my chest that no one had ever been able to fill. Not that I had ever given anyone the opportunity to do so. It had been years, decades, a century even, and I still haven't found the strength to even pay attention to another man.

I missed him with every tick of the clock.

I missed him more every day.

I closed my eyes, and I could see him.

I wasn't able to sleep, but I dreamt of him every chance I got.

I still carried his ring on me. My most precious belonging.

I had been able to gather a small fortune in my century of living. When the only thing you had to pay for were your credit cards, and your place's commodities, money lasted longer, and having all the time in the world, played a huge part in it.

A few months ago, I decided to move to a less sunny place. I had been living in Florida for the past year, and I was tired of being confined to the inside of my place. I wanted to be able to walk during the day, every day, even if it wasn't raining. After a thorough search on the internet, I was left with two choices, stay in the country, or go abroad to Europe, or Africa or Asia. The world was open to me. But I decided to stay in the country, not feeling cheery enough to travel the world. Washington was my next stop. The small town of Forks.

A big hell, as they say for small towns. I would have to concoct a lie to make up for the fact that I was eighteen and without any legal guardian.

I decided that the simplest lie was to tell that I had emancipated from my foster parents and had managed to rent a place in town. I could say I had received an unexpected inheritance that required me to follow a certain set of instructions in order to be able to claim it. I could say I was seventeen, and that I still had a year to come to the age agreed in the testament of some family I never knew I had. It was simple yet complicated enough, so that people wouldn't ask too many questions. They tended to leave the affairs of the dead alone.

It was set. I contacted my forgery person (however they're called) and arranged for a fake set of school transcripts, an emancipation document (which I had no idea how they looked), an ID, passport, and some other set of documents that I would be needing. It wasn't cheap, but it was necessary.

Next on my list, was finding a decent apartment in the small town of Forks. I managed to do it with ease, surprisingly. It was a one-story house, with two bedrooms, one bathroom attached to the master bedroom and another bathroom. It was charming, and lovely, sufficiently retired to provide enough privacy that no one would meddle in her affairs without coming out of their way or appearing very obvious.

I had made friends in all my years travelling around the country and the world. But I got tired of a nomadic life, preferring to stay put longer than a month. Of course, that required me to mix myself with the humans, and make up a life. But with time, the lies came easier.

The hardest thing I ever did was saying good-bye to Chicago, the place where I had found the most happiness and the most excruciating pain. My parents had survived the influenza, but I was dead on living. They allowed me to go, they understood I needed to be alone. I gave a damn about what was considered correct or not. Or if a lady was to travel with a chaperone and not alone. I had buried my fiancé and his parents; I deserved a break.

I never went back. My parents would visit me often. It was on one of their visits that they perished. They had had a car accident. It was uncommon, but it happened. I had lost everything in life. My fiancé, my family. But I went on. I found a teaching position for two little orphans, twins, that were living with their grandparents. In teaching them, I found a little peace in my heart. They helped me smile again. They were the cutest little angels with a talent for mischief that had managed to make most of their tutors quit. But they weren't that revoltous. They just had a lot of energy to burn.

In their employment, a year after I buried him, and months after I lost my parents, I died.

I died, with the exception that it hadn't been permanent.

Well, what I was now, was permanent.

I had become a vampire.

Now, I had forever.

It was daunting.

Until I arrived on the first day of school.

And I saw him.