“Bella,” he said, his voice rough with emotion, “I’ve lived a long time, and I’ve seen what forever looks like. Centuries passing like seasons, decades blending into memory, time stretching endlessly ahead without purpose or meaning. But none of it meant anything until I met you. You’ve reminded me what it feels like to hope. To breathe. To belong somewhere. You’ve taken a hundred and sixty years of existence and made them feel like they were all just preparation for loving you. You’re not just my mate. You’re my reason. My anchor. The thing that makes eternity feel possible instead of endless.”