What happens in life when your past fears are gone? When everything seems too good to be true? Is it inevitable those fears will be replaced by something else just as terrifying, or are we safe in assuming nothing could ever be as bad?

I've heard the old saying, "you know what happens when you assume" many times over, but I knew expecting terror around every corner wasn't healthy either. So, after careful deliberation of how I was going to approach the rest of my existence…I decided I was going to take it one day at a time.

I knew there would be moments when certain situations could seem absolutely terrifying; but I also knew there would be instances where life couldn't get any better.

Those were the treasures I would hold on to.

I was going to have to learn to stand up and balance myself inside the rocky boat I had a knack of creating from past experiences. The boat that rocked itself so feverishly under me from time to time.

I may only be eighteen, but even in one year of my immortal life, I'd managed to grow enough, that when I celebrated my should be twentieth birthday, it didn't seem so far off mentally. I was growing, and I was changing, just without the physical proof.

I am Isabella Marie Cullen: Girl, mother, wife, sister, daughter…vampire...immortal. I am me.

Across the room, my seventeen year old husband, who was reading the 'original' version of Earnest Hemingway's The Old Man and the Sea, made me laugh at how 'un-normal' his reading preference was for a teenage boy. 'Un-normal', because no teenager—regardless of gender—would pick up that type of book unless it was required by a teacher with a whole lot of hemming, hawing and groaning from the class.

And, 'un-normal', because he enjoyed it.

He didn't seem seventeen to me, and not over one hundred either, maybe twenty-five, twenty-six or even twenty-seven if I were pushing it to what seemed like such an ancient age. An age I would never see. But an age of wisdom I knew I would reach.

Maybe, hopefully...

When I thought about my family's future again, I reveled in the fact there would be no personal vendetta coming for the Volturi's downfall—for the Volturi had no loyalties, no friends, no one outside of themselves. And no one who would care to seek and level of revenge for what happened that night.

No one…

James, Laurent and Victoria were gone as well, and sadly, Irina. To which I will always feel responsible. And to which Tanya will always tell me not to. I promised to give myself a good century to work on that one.

The truth is; I couldn't think of any other revenge-filled vampires that were out there, hating, waiting and lurking for us…because, there weren't any…were there?

Edward said he would rest easy knowing we were finally safe, and advised I do the same. But I wasn't convinced or eased in any way, no matter what the bad vampire count was down to.

Didn't he remember?

Couldn't he recall?

Of course he did, he had too. He would never forget something so real.

Danger always follows me…