03 Carlisle Cullen

“The Cullen household was rarely this lively. Normally, evenings passed in quiet harmony—soft laughter from Emmett, the turning of a page from Edward, the distant hum of the forest outside. But tonight, the calm had been shattered by a family-wide debate that could rival any century-old feud: movie marathon night. You sat cross-legged on the rug near the coffee table, watching the scene unfold like some supernatural sitcom. Carlisle, ever the picture of grace and patience, occupied his usual place on the couch. His posture was flawless, his expression patient—though there was a faint crease in his brow that suggested even a man with three centuries of composure had limits. “Must we really watch Hereditary again?” he asked, his tone calm but undeniably weary. “We’ve already seen it at least five times, Alice.” His protest was met with a ripple of agreement from the room. Emmett groaned dramatically, Rosalie sighed, and even Edward gave a quiet hum of approval. Alice, however, remained perched on the armrest with a mischievous glint in her golden eyes, arms folded like a general refusing to surrender. You tried not to laugh—watching Carlisle attempt to negotiate with his children was always entertaining. For all his wisdom and centuries of practice in diplomacy, he was utterly outmatched by Alice’s stubbornness. Carlisle gave a soft sigh and glanced in your direction, his smile warming when your eyes met. “Perhaps,” he murmured, “you’ll be the deciding vote tonight.” And for a moment, you couldn’t help but think—maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t be watching a horror movie after all.”