Dear Diary,

I got through today, and it was tough. I must have said, "I'm fine, thanks," at least thirty-seven times, even though I didn't truly feel that way not once. It's disheartening that no one seemed to notice.

It's interesting how when people ask, "How are you?" they often aren't looking for a genuine response. It makes me wonder about the masks we all wear.

After school, I wandered through the cemetery and headed to my father's grave. It was a quiet place, filled with memories and lingering scents of earth and grass, and there, unexpectedly, I spotted Elena.

I couldn't help but notice her stumble as she tried to navigate the uneven ground, and in her fall, she dropped her diary. I would have rushed to give it back, but my attention was diverted when I saw that she'd scraped her leg, a crimson scratch appearing on her pale skin.

The sight of the blood twisted my stomach, urging me to escape the moment.

Once I returned her diary, Elena smiled gratefully and invited me to hang out with her and her friends, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes.

After our 'date,' as I dropped her off at home, I was again enveloped by Isabella's intoxicating scent, just as I noticed the deep blue '63 Chevy pulling into a driveway further down

the street. My fist clenched instinctively as the sweet perfume filled my senses, causing my mouth to water.

Elena casually mentioned the upcoming party again, and I confirmed with a nod that I would be there. Just then, her Aunt Jenna stepped outside, ready to 'parent' as I saw her grandmother waddling her way into the house.

"Stefan, this is my Aunt Jenna," Elena introduced.

I turned to face the blonde woman, who appeared to be almost the same age as Elena. They were similarly petite, with pale complexions and hazel eyes that flickered with warmth. Clad in a blue cami and matching pajama bottoms, Jenna exuded a relaxed yet caring aura.

I exchanged friendly words with them, my mind racing, before making an excuse about needing to head home before curfew.

Once I was sure Elena had retreated behind her curtains and wasn't watching from her bedroom window, I dashed toward Isabella's home, my heart pounding with anticipation.

I saw her and her grandmother settling into their cozy kitchen, the warmth of the interior contrasting with the chilly evening air. Isabella absentmindedly played with her food while her grandmother looked on, concern etched across her features.

"How was school?" the older woman inquired, her voice soft yet probing.

"It was okay. Matt, Vicky, and their friend sat with me at lunch. It was nice," Isabella replied, her tone brightening as she spoke of them.

"Are you making any friends?" her grandmother asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Not really; I'm not the friend type," Isabella admitted, her eyes downcast.

"That Bennett girl seems nice," her grandmother offered, trying to encourage her.

"Yeah, she does." Isabella glanced at her grandmother thoughtfully. "Hey, Gran?"

"Yes, dear?" the woman responded, her gaze steady.

"Why did my parents leave Mystic Falls?"

"They said it was too dangerous," her grandmother answered, hesitating as if weighing her words.

"Dangerous, how? What was so dangerous about Mystic Falls?" Isabella pressed, her curiosity piqued.

The old woman cleared her throat, her expression suddenly

serious as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "There was a kidnapping scare, and Renee was terrified of something happening to you—"

"Did they find the kid?" Isabella's voice was filled with urgency.

"What?" her grandmother replied, surprised.

"The child that was kidnapped—what happened to them?" Isabella persisted, her concern palpable.

"Oh, they were fine. It was just a custody issue." The grandmother shook her head, her eyes clouding with memories. "I prefer not to discuss such matters. Besides, you know how your mother gets."

"Yeah, we lived in Phoenix. She came home in tears one day, saying she didn't like the people there." Isabella looked thoughtful, her brow furrowing. "Gran?"

"Yes?" the older woman prompted gently.

"Did Mom and Uncle Beau have friends?"

"Of course! Renee had many friends; she was a social butterfly, always flitting from one group to another," her grandmother said, smiling wistfully.

"And Uncle Beau?"

"He was a bit like you in that regard, but I believe he had a few close friends," she replied.

"I'm pretty sure he was much cooler than I am," Isabella said wistfully. "We should go see him."

"What?" her grandmother asked, puzzled.

"We should drive out to the cemetery to see them." Isabella's expression turned melancholic yet hopeful. "I'm sure they'd love to hear from you again."

"We could visit them one day," her grandmother replied softly.

"That would be great," Isabella said, a small smile breaking through her somberness.

A kidnapping in a place like Mystic Falls?

It just feels off, though I totally get why Renee would decide to leave because of it.

My mom was always a bit quirky. When we lived in Forks, she painted the kitchen cabinets this bright yellow because she missed the sun.

Thinking about my parents for too long really hits me in the feels...

After I finally wrapped up the dishes and took a breather from the crazy day, I headed upstairs, planning to dive into a good book.

Or at least that was the plan. Instead, I found myself drawn to the pile of family photos.

Most of the pics were of my parents and grandparents when they were younger. The ones of Charlie and Renee during their early days together always get to me—like the snapshots from their first date and that sweet moment when Charlie popped the question.

Then there were these high school photos of Renee that made me smile, especially when she's trying to look cool while leaning against her locker.

What really stuck out was the guy behind her. He couldn't have been much older than I am. Taller than Renee at about six feet, with pale skin, thick dark brown hair, and striking blue eyes. He was dressed casually in a blue shirt, jeans, and sneakers—pretty much my style.

I flipped the photo over and saw "Renee (17) and Beau (14) Higginbotham."

My Uncle Beau.

As I kept flipping through the rest, I found another picture of Beau hanging out with two guys and a girl. They all looked

familiar, but I couldn't place them.

When I turned the photo over, I only found the initials BH, WT, JG, and IF. It felt like there was a whole story behind those names that I needed to figure out.