3 years later, 1873, Mystic Falls
STEFAN'S POV
Happiness is a fleeting thing, I have come to learn. It is as fragile as the wings of a butterfly, and it can be gone even before the said butterfly claps its wings.
Life never gives you what you ask for, because life likes to surprise you. It likes to throw curve balls at you, make you trip, skin your knees, and then get up and keep walking. When you feel brave enough again, you might even run, or jump.
Skinned knees are good. Scars are good. No matter if others can see them or not, as long as you can feel damps on your skin or inside of your chest, it means you're alive. It means you lived, and it means, once upon a time, you were brave enough to run so fast to fall and earn those scars in the first place.
Unfortunately, people only realize this when their life is soon to be over. When they're sitting in their armchair by the fire, moving their fingertip over one scar on their knee, thinking about how afraid they were to walk or run or jump after earning it, so they crawled. And it is hard to experience the beauty of the world when you're watching it from the under. So they keep touching the small bump on their knee, thinking about missed opportunities and chances they were too afraid to take. Moves they were too scared to make and all the people they were afraid to love.
All they're left with is series of images caused by choices which were not even theirs because they had only one road to crawl on.
I have none of those regrets. I experienced happiness, no matter how little lasting it was. I experienced excitement and love, and I have also experienced sadness and loss and despair. I know how it can cripple you, and how it is to feel empty. I have learned to live with that emptiness inside of me, and after some time, I got used to carrying it around with me.
I married. I had put my wife in the ground long before her time. I have a good relationship with my brother. I wrote a book. I successfully run an estate, something I knew nothing about before I was forced to learn.
I have left a mark on this world.
But the most important mark I have left is the fact I have loved someone with my whole heart. One thing I know I did right, one thing because of which I would run as fast as my legs carry me, no matter in how many walls I would crash in the process. For her, I would keep crashing into walls until I lose the last beat of my heart.
I have loved Elena Gilbert the best I knew how. I was just a boy. I tried to act like a man, I tried to pretend I'm one, for her, but I was just a scared little boy. I knew nothing. I did not even know what love was. I did not know love includes all the bad things too.
She made me realize it. She made me understand love is not only happiness and beautiful experiences, it's pain and loss as well. They make it sound so heavenly, love. When actually, it's the worst thing that can happen to a human being.
But we keep going back to it, every single time.
All the pain makes it seem so real, though. All the pain makes me believe what we had was real.
Because even now, after it ate me from the inside, I would still be hers if she ever asked me to be. Despite the fear she may walk out on me again, with or without her free will.
I was a boy who knew nothing about life, and she turned me into a man who would not give up his experiences for anything in the world.
Most of the men would give everything to have those unpleasant memories erased. And me? I relish in my pain in a way.
If I gave all the bad things away, I would have to give away all the good ones too. And I would never do that, not under any circumstances.
"Uncle Stefan!" I hear a very well know, childlike voice behind me. I turn around to see Amelia running into my direction.
Amelia is nine years old now, but she's much of a child as she was few years ago. Girls her age learn how to dance, and paint, and play piano, but not Amelia. Her father does not make her do anything she doesn't want to, and she would rather play and read whole day long, than learn how to be a lady. Bonnie is completely supportive of that upbringing too, and the only thing I care for is that she's happy.
"Amelia!" I exclaim her name as she puts her arms around my waist and hugs me tightly.
My niece is the closest thing I have to a daughter. Probably the closest thing I will ever have to having children of my own. I have always wanted a child, a son or a daughter, I really do not care. Katherine was pregnant two times, and she lost them early on in the pregnancy. She was too weak to bare a child, and she was incredibly sad because of it. She knew how much I want children, and she wanted them herself, too. After she lost the second child she got so depressed, and I concluded trying to have a baby is not worth her mental health. Soon after that she got sick and passed away.
So I spend as much time with Amelia as possible. I'm the one who used to read her bedtime stories, and who buys her books to this day.
"Where is your father?" I ask.
"With the horses," she replies happily. Amelia loves horses, she says she would like to ride them one day when she's older. "Me and mother went to get mail."
The next thing I hear is Bonnie's loud breathing. She is pregnant with their second child, and she's trying to catch her breath. I move to her, taking the mail out of her hands, and leading her towards the chair in the hall.
"You should not walk so far," I warn her. She is in her 7th month, and doctor said she should have as little physical activity as possible.
Bonnie glares at me. She doesn't like to be told what to do. I guess whole life of being ordered around does that to you. When her lungs fill with air again, she stands up, puts her arm around Amelia's shoulders and smiles at me, "There's some mail for you in there," she says before the two of them walk into the kitchen.
Bonnie is teaching Amelia cook, since she finds it appropriate. Every girl should know how to cook, because you never know where life will take you, and you do not want to go there hungry, is what Bonnie always says.
I look at the bunch of envelopes in my hands, and out of curiosity, pick out the one with my name written on it with black ink.
The handwriting seems awfully familiar.
I open it and pull out a little, folded piece of paper out of it.
"Dear Stefan,
I'm in Mystic Falls. Meet me tomorrow at 10am sharp in that little pub on the corner near the market.
Much love, Elena."
And my heart goes up to my throat where it turns into glass, breaks, and cuts me from the inside.
ELENA'S POV
I see him walk into the pub. He's as handsome as ever. His messy sandy hair, piercing green eyes, like grass covered with dew drops in the early morning, perfect jaw that holds those kissable lips.
He looks so handsome in a suit. So grown up, but I can still see that boy in him, the boy I fell in love with.
The boy I still love. And the man that boy has turned into.
He notices me sitting by the table in the corner of a pub, and his eyes lock on mine. There's a faint smile on his face, smile I know very well, smile caused by relief of seeing my face in person again.
I worry I'm too old now. I worry he will not find me beautiful anymore. I worry he will not want me anymore.
I worry he fell in love with someone else.
He walks over to me and pulls out a chair. He sits on it, not tearing his look away from mine.
"Elena," he says my name with the same soft voice he always said my name with, "What are you doing here? Has something happened?" there's a confusion on his face as he asks worriedly.
I pull a small smile across my lips, and I feel like a bad person for doing so. Things that happened in my life few months ago are not a reason to smile. They're a reason to cry.
The smile instantly fades from my face because it stings my lips.
"Yes," I say sadly. Because I really am sad. I'm not a heartless monster.
He wants to reach for my hand over the table, I can see he does, but he doesn't dare to.
"What is it?" he asks worriedly. He sounds more worried than he did a minute ago, if that's even possible.
I swallow hard. "It's my husband," I say silently, and his eyes grow wider. I look around the pub. We're all alone. The local drunks went home only couple of hours ago, and there's no one decent who would be drinking at this time in the pub in the middle of the town. I know that, that's why I chose this place. I did not want to go to his house, and he can't go to my hotel room. Not yet. I turn my look back at him, and he's waiting patiently for my answer. "He passed away," I reply.
Stefan exhales, but it's not a meaningful one. I think he held his breath all this time. He slowly leans back on his chair and takes his eyes off me.
"How?" he asks.
"Does it matter?" I reply.
Stefan raises his look to me and furrows his brows. "Of course it matters," he spits out, and I feel ashamed under his stare.
"He was out drinking. Gambling. Whatever he did when he went out. Maybe found some whores even," I say, and Stefan instantly shots me a look. I blush. My husband hasn't slept in the same bed with me for more than three years. He would rather sleep with whores than with me.
But according to him, I was no better than them.
"We were living in such bad conditions. He spent all of our money. All of my money," I say as I remember how easily he blew my inheritance away.
"Why did you not tell me?" he asks me, "I would give you money," he says in such a sad voice, like he's feeling sorry for me.
Poor little Elena.
"And how would I explain the money?" I cock my eyebrow in his direction.
He huffs and shakes his head. "Men like that never ask, as long as they have it," he says with a certain amount of disgust in his voice.
I lower my look in shame. "Anyway," I continue quietly, even though there's not anyone around to hear us, "He owed some money to some people. Gambling debts. There was a fight," I raise my look only to meet Stefan's concerned one, "It was an accident, is all the police said."
This time he reaches for my hand over the table and takes it into his. His skin on mine is like my safe haven, his touch feels like home and all of a sudden I feel safe, like nothing can hurt me and like everything will be fine. "Elena, are you okay?" he asks with a genuine concern.
I know what he's getting at. He wants to know have they bothered me because of my husbands stupidity. "I'm fine, Stefan," I smile at him, and as soon as I say those words I wish I have lied, because he pulls his hand away from mine.
He leans back on his chair, and there's this look in his eyes. I know what he's thinking - what does this all mean for us?
"How are you here?" he asks me.
"What do you mean?" I ask confused.
"How did his family allow you to come here? What was your excuse?"
"His family?" Now I'm more confused than before.
He glares at me. "You are apart of their family now. I can't imagine they would leave you all alone after his death."
I chuckle loudly. "The only reason why they wanted me in the first place is because of my money. The money is gone now, therefor they do not need me anymore. I'm free to do whatever I want," I tell him significantly, and he can't help but smile.
His smile fades away quickly, though. I know what's bothering him. All of this sounds too perfect to be true.
He puts his palms over his face and rubs his eyelids with his fingertips.
"Is there anything new in your life?" I ask curiously.
He removes his hands from his face and looks at me confused before he pulls a wide smile across his face. "No beautiful," he calls me by his nickname for me and I blush. It's been a while since someone told me I'm beautiful. Three years to be exact, the last time we met. When we made love. "There's nothing new in my life," he shakes his head. "Is there anything new with you?" he asks me before he realizes how silly his question sounds, so his corrects himself, "Apart from what you have told me now."
So, here it goes I guess. The truth that will sting him more than thousand of lies ever could.
Telling him about Matt's death was easy, this is the hard part.
"Actually, yes," I lower my look because I'm too afraid of his.
"Oh?" is all he says.
I inhale deeply before I raise my head to look at him. "I have a daughter."
He looks at me in disbelief. I can see it in his eyes, how unfair he thinks it is, that I have a daughter with a man I never even loved, and he's left with none.
STEFAN'S POV
She has a child.
A daughter, nevertheless.
If she's anything like her mother, I already love her.
I try to hide the fact how much her words had hurt me. Because it was supposed to be us. That was supposed to be our daughter. Not the child she shares with a man whose company she never even enjoyed.
She told me he's impotent.
"She's two years old," Elena says before I even have a chance to regard her previous statement about her husband apparently being impotent.
I do not understand why is she telling me how old her child is.
There's confusion on my face.
She shakes her head before she stops and locks her look directly on mine. "Stefan, I do not think you understood me," she says, "We have a daughter."
AN: Uhoh, some secrets are not supposed to be kept, Elena. How will Stefan react to Elena lying to him all these years?
Oh, by the way, one extremely talented vidder made a trailer to my story, so check it out here!
watch?v=UMf_70_ATeI&list=LL1cEFoFkkTQ1aY6yeFiDDtg&feature=mh_lolz