Chapter Text
Chapter One
Camden, Maine
The hospital smelled like sterile floors and tired souls.
AnnMary Velenz adjusted the stack of manila folders in her arms and nudged the file room door open with her hip. The hinges creaked a protest — just loud enough to remind her that no matter how many times she asked Maintenance to oil them, they'd keep squealing. Camden General wasn't underfunded, just forgetful. Like most things in this sleepy harbor town.
She inhaled through her nose. Paper. Ink. Old toner. It was comforting in a way the rest of the hospital wasn’t. Here, among dusty cabinets and the rhythmic thrum of the HVAC overhead, she could almost pretend she wasn’t living a life halfway to nowhere.
Filing was supposed to be boring. Safe. Mindless. But she liked it. Paper made sense. She could hold it, sort it, control it. Unlike her thoughts. Unlike her grief.
She tucked a loose wave of dark hair behind her ear and began to shelve the files. Her name badge bounced slightly with the motion:
AnnMary Velenz – Records Clerk
It had a tiny sticker on the corner — a black cat with vampire fangs. No one had noticed. Or if they had, they hadn’t said anything.
They wouldn’t know the truth anyway. That she wrote stories about things with fangs and eyes like gold. About beautiful, terrible creatures that lived forever and never really felt human again. She had four full notebooks at home, full of them. Secret. Shameful. Loved.
As she reached for the cardiology shelf, a strange chill touched her neck.
Not cold, exactly. But… observed.
She turned her head slightly. The file room had one glass wall, facing the east corridor. People passed it all day. Nurses with rolling carts. Interns scrambling with clipboards. But now, just beyond the reflection-glared pane, stood him.
Edward Cullen.
Tall. Bronze-haired. Pale like something carved from winter. He wasn’t moving, but his eyes were on her — piercing, unreadable, and too still.
AnnMary blinked.
He did not.
And then he was gone. Not vanished, just… moving along, as if he hadn’t stopped at all. As if he hadn’t been watching.
She stared at the empty hallway. Nothing. No rustle of a coat, no sound of retreating steps. Just a vacant stretch of linoleum.
She exhaled a laugh under her breath. “Okay. Creepy,” she whispered to herself, trying to shake the goosebumps from her skin. “Real subtle, Nosferatu.”
She returned to filing, but her pulse didn’t slow.
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Edward turned the corner and let out a breath he didn’t need.
He hadn’t meant to look that long.
He’d only meant to check the ER logs. But then she was there, in the file room, glowing under dim fluorescents like a candle left burning too long.
And she saw him.
Not a glance. Not a polite flicker of acknowledgment.
She saw him.
He pushed a hand through his hair and adjusted his coat as he walked, ignoring the sharp glance a nurse gave him. His pace quickened.
It didn’t matter. She didn’t know anything. She couldn’t. Just a moment of curiosity. Nothing more.
Still, for the first time in months, Edward felt something unfamiliar scrape across the edge of his restraint.
Interest.
And it unsettled him more than hunger ever had.