'Jeremy, this is Bella. I'm on my way to your house. Call me.'

It was weeks after I watched Jeremy beheaded that guy, one of Klaus' hybrids, the morning of Caroline's 18th birthday.

Hybrids lurking around, running people over...

Who's next?

Gran?

Me?

Rosalie?

The thought of Rosalie getting hurt made my stomach churn.

Were they watching me now?

Klaus has hybrids watching Elena's family and friends; he knows Elena and I are sisters.

Are his hybrids watching Rosalie as well?

Was he going to go after my family and friends next?

Was Rosalie and her family in danger because of our friendship?

I knocked on the Gilberts' door until it flew open, and out walked Damon Salvatore.

'Well, well-'

'Shut up. Where's Jeremy?'

'No, good morning?'

'You're right. Good morning, I'm armed. Where's Jeremy?'

'Upstairs packing.'

'Packing?'

'Jeremy is going to stay with some family friends.'

'Is he and Elena going into hiding?'

'No.'

'But Jeremy would never leave Elena alone-' I stopped and shook my head. 'Never mind.' I turned around. 'Nevermind'

'I thought you wanted to talk to Jeremy.'

'We'll talk later, I guess.'

'Hang on.' He grabbed my arm, rolling his eyes. 'I have to say so everyone can shut up about it.'

'Shut up about what?'

'I'm sorry.'

I didn't expect it, but I didn't care if he was.

'Ok.'

'Is that all you have to say?!'

'What did you expect me to say?' I groaned. 'You literally broke my neck.'

'I've literally done that to everyone.'

'Is that how you killed Vicky?'

'Yes.' He said with indifference.

'And I'll never forgive you for it.'

Damon shrugged and let me go. 'Bella, you will have to talk to Elena eventually.'

I said nothing and went home.

Caroline was overwhelmed by the flood of Happy Birthday messages from everyone she had ever known since the stroke of midnight; it was becoming increasingly frustrating.

As she pondered the concept of vampire birthday celebrations, Caroline regretted not asking Stefan about it before he left. Just then, she spotted Bella walking out of Elena's house and called her over.

"Bella!" Caroline called out as Bella hurried over, stumbling a couple of times.

"Happy birthday," Bella greeted her with enthusiasm.

"Thanks," Caroline replied, mustering a smile.

"I got you something. Well, two things," Bella said, presenting a white bag covered in colorful "Happy Birthday" lettering.

Caroline found a CD by Sleigh Bells, a band she had never heard of, and a hundred-dollar mall gift card inside the bag. "Thanks, Bella," Caroline expressed her gratitude.

The conversation soon turned to Jeremy's recent developments.

"Yeah, I heard about it," Caroline sighed. "Jeremy deserves to have a normal life. Elena's a doppelgänger, Bonnie is a witch, Tyler is a hybrid, and the rest of us are vampires."

Bella paused and quickly changed the subject. "Matt and I–"

"Matt stays on vervain, and he wouldn't leave us. And you can resist compulsion," Caroline assured her. "Is–"

"Yes, I put vervain in everything my grandmother consumes and even use it for cleaning," Bella interrupted.

Caroline then inquired about the recent visit from Steve Kingsley, John Gilbert's lawyer.

"John planned to give me something for my birthday..." Bella trailed off, lost in thought.

Caroline then made an unexpected revelation, "Was John Gilbert your father? I heard Elena mentioning something about Isobel being involved with both–"

Bella swiftly interrupted, "No, John and I had a DNA test before he died."

"Why haven't you told Elena?" Caroline questioned.

"Because she is always surrounded by those two jerks, Damon and Ric," Bella retorted.

The conversation then turned to Mr. Saltzman. "What happened between you and Mr. Saltzman?" Caroline inquired.

"He never got over his wife," Bella explained. "He's fixated on Isobel, and because I kind of resemble her, he's fixated on me."

Caroline was visibly concerned, "He's not going to hurt you."

Bella sighed, "I hope not, but he makes me very uncomfortable, Caroline. It's only a matter of time before he–"

"Before he what? Hurts you?" Caroline interjected, her concern growing.

"I don't like being around him, especially when I'm alone," Bella confessed.

Caroline urged her, "You should tell Elena. Face to face."

"I don't really want to see her face," Bella admitted.

Caroline remarked, "Well, that's too bad. You two are connected."

'Yeah, the doppelganger and the spare.'

Gran and I were seated at the dining table, the aroma of our homemade dinner lingering in the air, when a sudden, sharp knock echoed through the house, making us both jump in our chairs.

"Are you expecting someone?" we asked in unison, glancing at each other with curiosity and apprehension before our eyes shifted toward the door.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach as thoughts of Klaus and his hybrids crept into my mind. I quickly rose from my seat and moved toward the door, my heart racing.

"Who's there?" I called out, trying to sound brave.

"HENRY FLEMMING," came the voice from the other side, deep and gravelly.

I turned back to Gran, who was slowly making her way to the door, her posture stiff with indignation. "What do you want?!" she barked, her voice sharp as a knife.

"May I come in?" he replied, surprisingly calm.

"Get off my porch, or I'll call the sheriff!" She retorted fiercely, her eyes blazing with protectiveness.

"Gran—" I started, but she interrupted me, her voice booming with authority.

"That man is dangerous," she insisted, her words heavy with warning. "I do not want you to have anything to do with him."

I hesitated, my heart in my throat, and quietly moved to peek out the window. Through the glass, I saw an old man shuffling away into the dimming twilight, his figure contrasting starkly against the dusky sky.

Dear Diary,

Jeremy left town, Bonnie hates me, Klaus had Tyler bite Caroline, and Stefan has lost his mind.

Time dragged on. Caroline is safe, but I hate that Klaus holds that against her.

Bella still wouldn't talk to me, but at least she waves now, so that's something. She looks like she wants to tell me something, but Damon and Ric are around.

I should probably text her...

What should I say?

What do you tell a half-sister that fate keeps tethered to you despite your efforts to sever ties?

I sat on the edge of my bed, the dim light of the room casting soft shadows on the walls as I stared intently at the unopened letter from John Gilbert. My heart raced in silence until my cell phone buzzed, slicing through the stillness and making me jump.

"Hello?"

"Hello, who's this?" I asked, still trying to shake off the shock. The voice was unfamiliar and slightly muffled, making it hard to tell who was on the other end.

"Who's it sound like?!" snapped an annoyed voice, sharp as glass.

"The Ghost of Christmas Past?" I ventured, attempting to lighten the mood with a bit of humor.

"Bella!" the voice growled, unmistakably belonging to Elena, and my tension ebbed slightly.

"Is that you, Elena Gilbert?"

"How many people do you know that sound like me?" she retorted her tone a mix of irritation and familiarity.

"I can think of at least one," I challenged, smirking.

There was a brief pause, and then her voice softened slightly. "Yes, it's me."

"Hey, Bella," another cheerful voice said, brightening the conversation.

"Who's that?" I asked, curious.

"Bonnie," Elena replied, sounding slightly more relaxed.

"We're on a road trip," Bonnie added, her excitement palpable.

"A road trip?" I echoed, trying to wrap my head around it. "To where?"

"To find my mom,"

"Your mom?!" I exclaimed, disbelief coloring my tone.

"Yeah."

"Okay, that's—are you adopted too?" I inquired, my curiosity piqued.

"Nope, abandoned," Bonnie shot back, her words sharp but tinged with sadness.

"Oh…" That was a heavy response, leaving a weighty pause between us.

"What's up with you?" she asked, redirecting the conversation.

"Nothing..." I replied, feeling the pressure of her gaze even across the phone.

"For goodness' sake, Bella," Elena scoffed, frustration simmering beneath her words. "Could you at least try to engage with me?"

"You called me," I reminded her, a hint of defiance creeping into my voice.

"Yeah, to talk. Now talk!" she commanded, her impatience clear.

"How about I just hang up instead?" I suggested a rebellious spark igniting within me.

"Fine by me," she snapped as if my dismissal didn't faze her.

"Ladies, ladies," Bonnie interjected with a soothing tone. "I'm dealing with my own problems, and I don't think I have the emotional strength to referee this."

"Sorry, Bonnie," I apologized, the tension diffusing just a bit.

"Well, if Bella would just open up—" Elena started, determined to keep the conversation alive.

"Leave me be, Elena," I cut in, using the strength of my voice to stand my ground.

"I called you to be nice," she scoffed, her irritation boiling. "But you're being a bitch. It's fun to share."

"Okay, fine," I sighed in resignation. "Your voice is annoying, and it makes me want to die. You're right; it's fun to share."

"I can't stand you," Elena snapped, the exasperation clear in her tone.

"And yet you always find a way to interact with me," I countered, a smirk creeping onto my face.

"What's going on with Isobel's parents?" Bonnie asked, redirecting the conversation once again.

"Oh, well," I began, gathering my thoughts. "I met Henry Flemming."

"Okay..." Bonnie replied, intrigued.

"Who's that?" Elena probed, her curiosity piqued again.

"Isobel's father," I explained, feeling the weight of the revelation.

"What? When?" she demanded, a sudden urgency lacing her voice.

"He showed up on my doorstep a couple of weeks ago. He wants to meet—"

"I want to meet him!" Elena screeched, her voice cutting through the air like a knife.

"I don't know what—"

"I want to meet him!" she insisted, her voice growing louder.

"Elena, calm down!" Bonnie insisted, trying to mediate the rising tension.

"Bella—" she pressed, ignoring Bonnie.

"I don't know if he knows about you," I said, attempting to defuse the situation.

"How does he know about you?!" Elena demanded, her voice sharp with suspicion.

"Margaret told him," I explained, the simplicity of that sentence hanging heavily in the air.

"Right!" Elena cried, her frustration bubbling over. "Because you're the preferred daughter."

"Elena—"

"Goodbye," she concluded abruptly, slamming the metaphorical door on our conversation.

I rushed through the darkness, my life on the line, driven by an unyielding force propelling me forward.

But why?

What was my purpose?

Where was I heading?

Suddenly, Matt's voice pierced the darkness, calling out for Elena. Despite not being Elena, she raced ahead, oblivious to my presence.

I pursued her, my shouts swallowed by the void surrounding us until we reached Wickery Bridge.

Gasping for breath, I witnessed Matt and Elena on the edge of the rails. "Matt!" I bellowed, but they leaped into the water.

"Elena!" My cries were lost in the splash. I dashed to the river's edge, frantically calling her name.

"Get back!" Stefan's urgent command barely registered as he plunged into the water.

Moments later, Matt and Stefan emerged, but there was no sign of Elena.

Panic and despair enveloped me.

No, not her! Not Elena!

I dove into the water, resolute in my mission to find her.

"Bella," Elena's faint voice reached out to me.

She was further away, but I refused to give up. I could reach her.

I had to.

As we drew closer, relief flooded over me, and Elena managed a weak smile.

But before I could grasp her, Rebekah emerged from the depths and dragged Elena under.

"Bella!" Elena's cry pierced the water.

I fought to reach her, but it was a losing battle. Rebekah's grip was unyielding.

Suddenly, I spotted something else – Alaric Saltzman at the riverbed, reaching out for us.

Then Victoria emerged, swimming towards us.

Faced with an impossible choice, I couldn't save both of us. I couldn't save Elena.

As her pleas echoed in my ears and Stefan's voice joined in calling my name, I was left with an agonizing decision to make.

I was shook violently for a bit before I recognized Gran's voice.

'Gran?'

I was in my bedroom.

'You were having a nightmare.'

'What time is it?'

'It's 3:33 a.m.; my grandmother used to say that was the witching hour. What were you dreaming about?'

'Drowning, Elena was- nothing. I just... I just miss Jeremy.'

'You screaming Elena Gilbert's name.'

'Yeah.'

'Do you want to talk about it?'

'No, I'm fine. I want to listen to some music.'

'Ok.'

Gran kissed my forehead and left the room, and I turned on the radio.

'I'll paint it on the walls

'Cause I'm the one at fault

I'll never fight again

And this is how it ends

I don't know what's worth fighting for

And why I have to scream

But now I have some clarity

To show you what I mean

I don't know how I got this way

I'll never be alright

So, I'm breaking the habit

I'm breaking the habit

I'm breaking the habit tonight

I don't even like this song, yet since I returned home, its

catchy melody has looped in my mind like a stubborn echo.

I glanced at Bella's bed; her light glowed softly in the dimness of the room. Was she awake, too, lost in thoughts like I was?

Thoughts of her had been swirling around in my mind since our earlier conversation. Was she thinking about me similarly, or was I imagining it?

A sudden impulse urged me to go over there, to confront her and coax an honest conversation.

Setting my diary aside, I quickly threw on a pair of comfortable sweatpants and sneakers and slipped quietly downstairs.

As I crept out of my house, the cool night air wrapped around me like a crisp blanket. I started down the familiar street when, to my surprise, I saw her—Isabella Swan—walking toward my house.

Our eyes met, and she paused, uncertainty flickering across her face. There we stood, two solitary figures beneath the stars, in front of the two houses that sat between ours. The house she faced was a vibrant green, mirroring her hoodie, while the one I stood in front of blazed red, echoing the color of my top.

A heavy silence settled between us, stretching out like the night itself, before one of us finally broke it—most likely me,

though it could have been her—by commenting on how chilly the air felt.

"Of course, it's cold; you didn't cover your arms," Bella snapped, her voice sharp yet playful.

"Excuse me for being human," I retorted, feigning annoyance while a smirk tugged at my lips.

Another quiet moment enveloped us.

"Why are you up so late?" I ventured, wanting to bridge the distance between us.

"Bad dream," she replied softly, her gaze dropping to the ground as if recalling something troubling.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked gently, sensing that she needed a listening ear.

After a brief pause, Bella nodded slightly, a hint of vulnerability surfacing in her expression.

"We should go inside," she murmured. "We need to talk."

"Should we go to my place or yours?" I asked, eager to find the right space for our conversation.