I stood there, phone in hand, grappling with the decision to call her.

I had the option to reach out and lay bare the truth.

It felt a bit cowardly, I would admit, but the thought of seeing her face made my stomach twist.

Alright. I needed to do this.

I could do this.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Elena," I responded, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside.

"Bella?" Her tone shifted, suddenly sharp and alert.

"Yeah, it's me. Thanks for bringing my food."

"You're welcome."

Now was my chance—tell her everything, Bella.

But I knew this wasn't the sort of thing I could blurt out over the phone.

She needed support—someone to steady her in this turbulent moment.

Was Stefan still there?

He could serve as her backbone.

"Are you—"

I mentally hesitated. Was it just Stefan in the background, or was the whole goon squad waiting? I opted for a change of subject instead.

"Is Jeremy there?"

"Yes," she replied quickly.

"What about Caroline?"

"I'm here." Caroline's voice cut through, filled with concern. "Bella, what's going on? I'm really worried about you! I had a terrible dream about you."

A dream about me?

Was it possible we had shared the same nightmare?

"We were at the park, the three of us and Jeremy," I ventured.

"And Bonnie didn't come because her grandmother was sick," Caroline added, her voice hesitant.

"What?" Elena gasped, surprise evident in her tone.

"You ran away from us," I pointed out decisively, dismissing her previous worries. "Why did you do that?"

"Because that woman was a stranger!" Caroline exclaimed, her voice betraying a mix of childishness and genuine fear. "I ran to get Jenna, but she was talking to Logan Fell. She could have been a kidnapper!"

"Caroline, what woman are you talking about?" Elena pressed, her curiosity piqued.

"It was Isobel," Jeremy stated, his voice firm and unwavering.

A heavy silence fell, punctuated only by Caroline's muttering, "I told you so."

"The three of you had the same dream. That can't be a coincidence," the Saltman ventured, his brow furrowing in thought.

So she wasn't alone.

"Maybe it's a memory," Jeremy suggested thoughtfully.

"Then why don't I remember it?" Elena countered, a hint of frustration creeping into her voice.

Not everything is about you, Elena, I thought, but I held my tongue and instead asserted, "Isobel seemed particularly interested in me; she liked my name. Why not ask your aunt Jenna?"

"I don't want to involve her," Elena replied firmly as if closing a door.

"She has answers, Elena." I sighed, feeling the weight of the conversation. "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. You need to engage her."

My instincts told me I could almost feel Elena's indecision radiating through the line.

"Is your grandmother involved?" she challenged, determination creeping into her tone.

"Yes. She filled me in on Beau's complicated relationships with John and Isobel."

"What did she say?" Damon demanded, his voice dripping with urgency.

This feels like an ambush!

She had her loyal followers lying in wait.

"What did John say about it? Did you ask him?"

"I—"

"Let me guess, you don't want to involve him, or you've decided not to speak to him?"

"She doesn't trust him," Damon interjected, mocking yet profound.

"All the answers are from people she refuses to confront or those too stubborn to share what they know. She won't get anywhere with that mindset."

I could almost hear the collective groans as I rubbed my tired eyes. "Well, this has certainly been enlightening—"

"Wait," Stefan cut in, urgency in his voice, "are you coming to school tomorrow?"

"On April Fools' Day?" I replied incredulously.

"We need to talk."

"Talk to John first," I replied, a steely determination in my voice.

'Stefan,' called Elena's voice when she walked inside, 'you're home.'

'Elena.' I breathed. 'Rose?'

She shook her head.

Rose is dead, poor Damon.

He tried.

He made her last moments as comfortable as he could.

'I um...I called Isobel.' I said to change the mood.

'I know.' she sighed.

'I'm sorry, I had to.'

It's okay. Did you find her?'

'Not exactly.' John's voice answered from behind me. 'Hello, Elena.'

'Uncle John?'