Morning in Forks usually crept in quietly
gray light, drizzle on glass, the sound of sleepy birds who'd given up on sunshine.
But today, something felt different.
Amara stirred beneath her blanket, eyes blinking open to a faint, golden glow sneaking past the curtains. For a long, delicious moment, she just lay there — warm, cocooned, wrapped in the kind of comfort that made moving feel like betrayal.
Her mind was slow, soft, still hovering between dream and wakefulness.
Then she sighed, stretched, and mumbled into her pillow,
"Okay, universe, fine. I'll get up. But only because the sun decided to make a cameo."
With a groggy little shuffle, she sat up, hair a delightful mess, and rubbed her eyes. The world outside seemed unusually alive. She padded to the window, tugged the curtains open — and gasped.
There it was.
Sunlight. Real, honest sunlight. Not blinding, but warm and golden, slipping through the clouds like a shy guest at a gloomy party. The garden shimmered with dew, and the trees outside glowed soft and green.
Amara smiled, feeling something flutter pleasantly in her chest.
"Would you look at that?" she murmured. "Forks actually remembered what the sun looks like."
She stood there for a while, soaking it in. The air through the slightly open window was crisp and smelled faintly of pine and damp earth. It made her want to hum.
Then practicality struck.
"Alright," she sighed. "If I stare long enough, I'll end up writing poetry about the weather. Time to move."
Finally, with the grace of someone who'd won a silent war with her own laziness, Amara shuffled to the bathroom.
Warm water, peppermint toothpaste, vanilla soap — the usual morning comforts. She brushed, washed, and towel-dried her hair until it fell softly over her shoulders. Then she dressed in light jeans, a white T-shirt that hugged her comfortably, and her clean sneakers. Simple, neat, perfect for pretending she had her life together.
When she came downstairs, the house was quiet except for the faint clink of a spoon against a mug.
Bella stood in the kitchen, already dressed, her hair loose and slightly frizzy from humidity.
"Morning," Amara said, cheerful. "Where's Charlie?"
Bella glanced up from her mug. "He had some early work. Something about a call from the station."
"Ah," Amara nodded, hopping onto one of the stools at the counter. "Duty calls."
Bella smiled — the kind of smile that looked polite on the surface but had the faintest glint of danger underneath. "Coffee?"
Amara blinked. "...What?"
"I made some," Bella said sweetly, sliding a mug toward her. "For you. Fresh. Strong. Perfect."
Amara's eyes flicked from Bella's suspiciously calm expression to the mug. She could practically hear ominous music playing in the background.
Yesterday's memory hit her in vivid detail — Bella's face after tasting the sugar-loaded "coffee," the death glare, the shouted 'Amara, I will kill you!' echoing up the stairs.
Oh no, Amara thought, frozen. It's her turn. This is it. The Revenge Brew.
She cleared her throat. "Uh, thanks, Bells, but I'm… actually cutting back on caffeine."
Bella's smile tightened, her tone still deceptively pleasant. "Just one cup. I made it especially for you."
Bella's polite voice went tight. "It's just coffee, not arsenic."
"Exactly," Amara said cheerfully. "That's what everyone says before it is arsenic."
Bella blinked once. Slowly. "Drink it."
"Nope," Amara chirped, grabbing her bag from the chair. "But you can drink mine! It'll bring you good luck."
The twitch at the corner of Bella's eye said everything.
Amara tilted her head, trying to sound casual while her internal alarms screamed. "That's sweet, but I'm trying this new thing — clean mornings, clear mind, you know?"
Bella's polite façade cracked for half a second — a twitch in the jaw, a flicker in her eyes. Then she inhaled, forced the smile back, and said too nicely, "Fine. Your loss."
Amara chuckled weakly, standing up and grabbing her bag. "Yeah, maybe next time."
Maybe never, her inner voice added.
As she turned toward the door, Bella called, "We should leave soon, or we'll be late."
"Already ahead of you," Amara said, voice sing-song, walking briskly toward the front door. She swung it open — and, in her perfectly timed chaos, the door almost smacked Bella in the face.
Bella froze, blinking.
Amara peeked over her shoulder with mock innocence. "Oops. Reflexes, you know. Sorry, Bells."
Bella glared, lips pressed tight, muttering something that sounded dangerously close to "not sorry at all."
Amara tried — and failed — to hide her grin as she stepped out into the rare sunny morning. She walked to her sleek black Audi A4, the paint gleaming under the sun like it had been waiting for this moment.
She tossed her bag into the passenger seat, turned just as Bella came stomping down the porch stairs, and said lightly, "You know, maybe you should cut down on caffeine too. It seems to make you a little… tense."
Bella's voice shot up an octave. "Amara, you little—!"
Whatever came next was censored by the universe for public safety.
Amara laughed, slid into her car, and shut the door. "See you at school, Miss Grumpy," she teased through the window.
She revved the engine, the Audi purring to life, and pulled out of the driveway — leaving behind one furious, caffeine-deprived Bella and a small cloud of amused triumph.
In the rearview mirror, Bella's rusty old truck followed close behind, like a stubborn storm cloud chasing sunlight.
Amara hummed along to the radio, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel.
"Bella's so active today," she mused aloud. "Not like yesterday when she was lost in her Cold Ones conspiracy spiral. Huh. Maybe revenge really is energizing."
She grinned to herself, eyes glinting. "I'm telling you
She smirked to herself, the morning sun glinting in her eyes. Forks had never looked so bright — or so funny.
Because between caffeine wars, vampire suspicions, and Bella Swan's temper, one thing was certain:
Peace was temporary. But the drama? Eternal
By the time they reached the school parking lot, the sun was high enough to make the cars glint faintly. The asphalt shimmered under the rare, honey-colored Forks sunlight — a scene so unusual that even the puddles seemed to sparkle in disbelief.
Amara eased her Audi into her usual spot with the kind of precision that made it look effortless. She turned off the engine, the low hum fading into a comfortable silence. The air outside was cool but bright, and she could feel the faint warmth of sunlight pressing through the windshield.
Her gaze drifted to the rearview mirror just as Bella's ancient red truck rumbled into view. It looked like it was grumbling its way across the lot — loyal but perpetually offended. The engine coughed once before settling beside her Audi, almost in protest.
Amara arched a brow, lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Well," she murmured, voice a soft hum, "round two survived. Barely."
She lingered for a moment, letting her head fall back against the seat. The light caught her hair, making it gleam like gold dust against the dark interior. For a fleeting second, she allowed herself to just… feel the peace.
No rain, no chaos, no caffeine ambush — just the lazy warmth of a small-town morning.
She could see Bella from the corner of her eye through the windshield — climbing out of her truck with a muttered grumble, slamming the door like it had personally betrayed her. Even from a distance, Amara could almost hear her cousin's muttering: something along the lines of "never drinking her coffee again" and "how can someone be this annoying before 9 a.m."
It made her smile wider.
Reaching into her bag, she grabbed her lip balm, dabbed a touch of color, then checked her reflection in the rearview mirror. A tiny tilt of the head, a soft press of lips — perfect.
"Ready to face the world," she told her reflection softly, voice touched with amusement.
When she stepped out of the car, the sunlight hit her full-on — warm against her skin, threading through her hair like a halo. She adjusted her jacket and stretched, breathing in the scent of wet pine and asphalt.
The chatter of students filled the parking lot — laughter, footsteps, snippets of weekend stories. Jessica's voice could already be heard somewhere across the lot, probably gossiping about something that happened online, while Mike was likely making bad jokes nearby.
Amara's smile turned soft. For all its oddness, Forks was starting to feel… almost homey.
She shut her car door with a quiet click, slung her bag over her shoulder, and glanced at Bella — who, of course, was glaring at her over the top of her coffee cup.
Amara grinned and mouthed, "Too sweet?"
Bella rolled her eyes so hard it was practically audible, turning on her heel and walking toward the school building.
Amara laughed under her breath, trailing after her with light steps. The sky was clear enough to show a hint of blue, the air crisp but kind. For a brief moment, everything felt calm — almost deceptively so.
Somewhere deep down, though, she knew the peace wouldn't last. Forks had a funny way of brewing storms right after sunlight.
But for now?
For now, it was just another morning.
And Amara intended to make it a good one.
Hey guys 👋
✨ If you enjoy my story and want to support me, you can leave a tip here 👉 https:// Streamelements.Com / z1ref/tip
Your support means a lot and keeps me motivated 💖
Guys If you like it please support it ,it will mean alot