The wedding was small because it was meant to be.
Forks gathered in its own way—folding chairs beneath towering evergreens, white fabric tied between trunks like a promise made softly, wildflowers tucked into mason jars still damp from morning rain. The air smelled of cedar and earth, cool and clean, the sky heavy with clouds that lingered without falling.
Renee stood beside Charlie, not waiting to be led anywhere. They had walked out together.
Her dress was simple—cream, soft at the edges, moving gently when the breeze found it. Charlie's suit fit better than he expected, his hands steady even when his voice wasn't. When he looked at her, his expression held something warm and sure, like he'd already found his footing just by standing there.
Harry Clearwater spoke slowly, grounding the moment. Sue's presence was calm and watchful, a quiet blessing without words. Billy met Renee's gaze once and gave a small nod—approval given not loudly, but honestly.
Their vows weren't poetic.
They were true.
They spoke of choosing each other, of staying present, of making room. No promises about forever—only about showing up, again and again, in this life they were building.
When Charlie kissed her, it wasn't a declaration.
It was familiar.
Tender.
Certain.
The kind of kiss that says, 'I'm here. I've been here.'
---
Renee moved into Charlie's house the way you ease into a hot spring—gradually, naturally.
Her books filled shelves beside his. Her mug claimed a place near the sink. Her presence softened corners the house hadn't known were sharp. Honey & Hearth stayed hers, a steady anchor of independence, but here—this was shared ground.
They talked through everything: finances, routines, quiet expectations. Nothing felt rushed. Nothing felt heavy. When boundaries were named, they were met with respect, not resistance.
At night, they learned each other's rhythms. The way Charlie reached for her half-asleep. The way Renee traced small patterns against his wrist when words weren't needed. Silence between them became comfortable, filled with understanding rather than distance.
The system observed.
Then spoke.
[FAMILY UNIT FORMED]
[Protective Priority: ELEVATED]
Renee felt the shift like a widening of her chest—responsibility expanding, yes, but also warmth. This wasn't possession.
It was devotion chosen freely.
---
Later, while Charlie slept, she accessed the system quietly, careful not to disturb the shape of the night.
Contingencies were reviewed. Risks measured. Nothing needed escalation—not tonight. Marriage hadn't narrowed her world.
It had rooted it.
She made one deliberate purchase.
[Permanent Home Stability Upgrade (Animal Crossing)
Cost: 6,000 SC]
The house responded gently. Not brighter—steadier. As if the walls remembered laughter more easily now. As if stress slipped away instead of lingering.
[Effect Activated:
• Increased safety rating
• Emotional recovery boost
• Financial smoothing]
Renee closed the interface and returned to bed.
Charlie woke when she slid beneath the covers. He turned toward her without opening his eyes, arm finding her waist like it had always known where she belonged.
"Everything okay?" he murmured.
"Yes," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Just making sure we're set."
He smiled, half-asleep. "Feels right. Having you here."
Renee rested her forehead against his. "Feels right being here."
Outside, Forks held its quiet. Rain finally began to fall, light and steady, tapping gently against the roof.
Renee listened to Charlie's breathing slow again, her hand warm against his chest.
She hadn't chosen eternity.
She had chosen this man, this life, this home.
And for the first time—across two lives—it felt like love without fear.