Rose learned very early that adults worried in quiet ways.
Miranda did it while folding tiny shirts, pausing mid-motion as her eyes lingered on Rose for just a second too long. Grayson did it over breakfast, watching the way Rose lined up her cereal pieces by size before eating them. Neither said the word genius, but it hovered in the air like something fragile and sharp they were afraid to touch.
That was how preschool happened.
Elena needed it, they said, for friends and fun and learning to share.
Rose needed it too—especially Rose, though that part was spoken softly, later at night, when they thought she was asleep. They worried she would grow lonely inside her own head. That she would watch instead of play.
Rose understood their concern.
The preschool classroom smelled like crayons and paste and something sweet. Small voices echoed everywhere. Elena's hand tightened in Rose's instinctively, their bond already a quiet constant. Rose let her twin lead this time.
Elena spotted Bonnie Bennett almost immediately.
Bonnie had bright eyes and warm magic humming under her skin—untrained, unawakened, but there. Elena felt it without knowing what it was, smiling wide as Bonnie toddled over and offered a block.
"Friend?" Bonnie asked.
Elena beamed. "Friend!"
Just like that, history was made.
Rose watched it happen with a strange sense of peace.
Bonnie was important. Bonnie would be loved. Bonnie would survive if Elena had anything to say about it.
That left Rose with a choice.
Caroline Forbes was sitting alone near the dress-up corner, smoothing the skirt of a costume far too fancy for a preschool room. She glanced around often, like she expected someone to come claim her—and each time no one did, her smile dimmed just a little.
Rose felt something in her chest tighten.
She toddled over and plopped down beside Caroline without asking.
"Hi," Caroline said, hopeful and careful all at once.
"Hi," Rose replied, then pointed at the glittery shoes. "Pretty."
Caroline's entire face lit up. "Really?"
Rose nodded solemnly. "You are sparkly."
That was all it took.
Soon they were both wearing mismatched crowns, Caroline chattering happily while Rose listened, responding just enough to encourage her. She didn't need to lead—Caroline filled silence easily once she felt seen.
Across the room, Elena and Bonnie were giggling over blocks that kept falling down.
"'Lena!" Bonnie laughed. "Boom!"
"Boom!" Elena repeated, delighted.
Caroline leaned over. "Your sister?"
Rose nodded. "Twin."
Caroline's eyes widened. "Cool."
Rose filed that away. Caroline liked feeling included. Valued. Chosen.
'I will choose you,' Rose promised silently. 'Again and again.'
The future loomed large in her mind—darkness, blood, loss. Caroline's pain was written clearly in Rose's memory, sharper than most. She wouldn't shield her from the truth forever. Secrets had teeth.
But it was too early to tell just yet.
Let Caroline enjoy the innocence of childhood.
For now, there were crowns and glitter and small hands holding hers without fear.
Miranda watched from the doorway, tension easing just a little as she saw Rose sit close to another child, saw Caroline lean toward her instead of away. Grayson squeezed her hand, relieved.
Rose felt it all—the love, the worry, the fragile hope.
'This is how it starts,' she thought.
And when Caroline smiled at her like she was something precious, Rose smiled back, she would preserve the 'sparkliness' of Caroline Forbes no matter what came their way.