Peyton Swan has always stood out — painfully, beautifully. Even as a kid, people said she didn’t look like she belonged in Forks. And after years abroad, she returns as something even more impossible: a girl carved from elegance and cities and sunlit train rides, with a wardrobe that makes the rainy town look even duller than it already is. She’s the kind of beautiful that turns small towns into fishbowls, the kind strangers whisper about, the kind teachers stare at for a beat too long. She moves like she’s still in Europe. She speaks softly but with confidence. She does not fit here — and she never has.