@rosefromdeath liked for a starter; Carlisle Cullen -> Gabriella Cullen
Carlisle found her standing near the wide window overlooking the forest, where the snow caught the moonlight in flashes of silver. The Cullen house was quiet tonight, quieter than it had been in months.
Most of the family had already scattered across the property, each of them handling New Year’s Eve in their own way: Alice fussing with streamers that would never droop, Emmett attempting to smuggle fireworks past Rosalie’s disapproval, Edward playing something low and distant on the piano that sounded almost like nostalgia.
And there she was.
Gabriella.
He paused in the doorway for a long moment, simply watching her. Her posture was still, but her expression was thoughtful- eyes far away, as though she were looking through the snow, not at it. Carlisle had always found that she carried her silence like a melody, full of unspoken things. Tonight, it lingered heavier than usual.
He stepped forward quietly, the faint creak of the floor the only sound announcing his presence. “You know,” he said softly, with that gentle cadence that always made his words sound like they’d been thought through twice, “this is the part where humans make resolutions. Grand declarations. Promises to themselves they’ll almost certainly break.”
A small smile curved his lips, warm and fond. “We, however, have a rather unfair advantage. Eternity doesn’t exactly let you start over every January.”
He came to stand beside her, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, gaze shifting toward the pale horizon. “But maybe that’s what makes nights like this special. They remind us that even forever can still be divided into moments that matter. Even for us.”
For a while, he let the quiet stretch, the snow falling slowly beyond the glass. Then, with a hint of playfulness, something soft, fatherly, and deeply human, he added, “So, Gabriella… any resolutions you plan on breaking first?”
His tone was light, but there was something underneath it: a silent promise, the kind that didn’t need to be said aloud. Whatever the next year brought, she wouldn’t face it alone. Not while he was still here.
