The first day of school had finally dawned, tinged with anticipation and nostalgia. Caroline had warned me about prank day, so I felt a twinge of unease as I dragged myself out of bed, my mind still heavy with sleep. Gran drove me to school, her kind eyes glancing in the rearview mirror as I told her I'd catch a ride home with Caroline later.
As I exited the car, a bustling wave of students greeted me, but I didn't spot Caroline, Jeremy, or any familiar faces in the crowd. A sense of loneliness crept in, but I heard a voice calling out to me just then.
"Bella."
Turning toward the voice, I saw Rosalie striding toward me with her signature confidence. She wore a long, flowing grey shirt that hugged her silhouette perfectly, paired with crisp white jeans and stylish black boots that clicked against the pavement. As always, she radiated beauty, effortlessly drawing the eye.
"Rosalie, hello! When did you get back?" I asked, a smile breaking through my sudden apprehension.
"Last night. How was your summer?" she replied, warm yet curious.
I shrugged, feeling a mix of emotions. "So-so. How about yours?"
"Ugh. My grandparents are still racist," she said, rolling her eyes with exasperation.
"That's... uh..." I paused, searching for the right words. "Okay?"
"Were you in a hurry this morning?" she asked, a teasing grin overtaking her features.
"What?!" I exclaimed, suddenly self-conscious.
"Your outfit screams, 'I was in a hurry.'" She motioned to my attire, a blue plaid shirt layered over a white camisole, complemented by black sneakers.
I glanced at myself, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Yeah," I admitted, running my fingers through my messy hair, "apparently."
"So—"
"I think she looks delicious," chimed a sultry, accented voice behind us.
"Excuse me?!"
Startled, Rosalie and I turned to face the source of the voice. A gorgeous girl stood there, her light blonde hair cascading effortlessly around her shoulders. Her light blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and her full lips curved into an inviting smile.
The subtle freckles dotting her pale skin gave her an almost ethereal quality, and she seemed to glow with youthful vibrance, appearing around 16 or 17 years old.
She wore a fitted grey top, stylish jeans, and those same black boots that seemed to be the unofficial uniform of the season.
"She looks delicious!" the girl repeated, her gaze lingering on me.
Rosalie and I exchanged a puzzled glance before returning our attention to her.
"Uh... thanks?" I stammered.
"I'm Rebekah Mikaelson," she introduced herself, her smile unyielding.
"Rosalie," Rosalie said, a hint of caution in her tone.
"Bella," I added, my puzzled expression still in place.
"I'm new," Rebekah said, her eyes flitting between us as if gauging our reactions.
"No shit, Sherlock," Rosalie shot back, her bluntness making Rebekah's smile falter.
Rebekah's eye twitched, but she remained silent, clearly taken aback.
"Rose." I tried to redirect the conversation.
"What? Her accent is a dead giveaway!" Rosalie insisted. "So, where are you from?"
"All over," Rebekah replied, her smile bright but slightly awkward now.
"Another army brat," Rosalie sighed, rolling her eyes. "Just like Stefan Salvatore."
"You know Stefan Salvatore?" Rebekah asked, curiosity piqued.
"How do you know Stefan Salvatore?!" I echoed, urgency creeping into my voice.
"He's dating Elena Gilbert," Rebekah said quickly, her words tumbling.
"Okay, but how do you know him?" I pressed further, skeptical.
"Elena Gilbert and I grew up together," she claimed, her confidence wavering slightly.
Rosalie scoffed and theatrically covered her mouth. "Sorry," she said with a grin, "allergies."
"You know Elena Gilbert?" I challenged my brow furrowing.
"Do you?" Rebekah asked, her tone defensive.
"We know her," Rosalie confirmed, sharing a wary glance with me.
"We're old friends," Rebekah insisted, attempting to regain footing.
"Well, Elena Gilbert and I are not," I retorted, my tone sharper than I intended.
Rebekah blinked, surprised, and took a small step back, her smile fading. "Oh. Everyone else seems to worship her—"
"We have to get to class," Rosalie cut in, grabbing my arm and pulling me away. "Nice meeting you."
As we power-walked away from Rebekah Mikaelson, I could feel her gaze lingering on us. I whispered, "Liar."
"What?" Rosalie asked, glancing back.
"Nothing. Nothing," I shook my head, forcing a smile.
"I think you gained a new admirer," she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Great," I sighed, a sense of dread settling in. "Just what I need."
"At least she's closer to your age," Rosalie added, trying to lighten the mood.
Suddenly, a voice interrupted us. "Hello, ladies."
Mr. Saltzman stood behind us, his presence both commanding and unwelcome. He tried to meet my gaze, but I turned away, feeling a mix of annoyance and apprehension.
"Good morning, Mr. Saltzman," we groaned in unison, a chorus of exasperation.
"Isobel—I mean Bella—" he began, his voice attempting to sound authoritative yet kind.
"I'm sorry, I can't talk right now; Jeremy asked me to meet up," I interrupted, desperate to escape the conversation.
"Okay," he replied, seeming slightly taken aback, but I was already focused on the door leading into the school.
Rosalie and I strode purposefully towards the stoner pit. The murmurs of laughter and idle gossip from our classmates faded as we stepped into the open air, a refreshing breeze rustling through the leaves overhead.
Rosalie turned to me, her eyes sharp with curiosity, clearly unsatisfied with the silence. "What did Jeremy want?" she asked her tone a mix of concern and interest.
"Nothing important," I replied quickly, the words spilling out as I rubbed the back of my neck, a nervous habit. "I just didn't feel like talking to him."
"Why not?" she pressed, her brow furrowing as she searched my face for answers.
"Because I'm—look, I'll explain it one day, but not here." My heart raced, the weight of my secret heavy in the air between us.
Her expression hardened slightly, and she crossed her arms. "He didn't do anything to you, did he?"
I shook my head firmly. "No! Absolutely not. It's honestly more complicated than it seems."
Rosalie's frown deepened as she considered my words, her eyes reflecting a blend of determination and concern. "Tell me something," she insisted, her voice steady.
"I'm… adopted," I finally revealed, the admission lingering between us like a fragile thread.
Her eyes widened slightly, taking a moment to process my revelation. "Oh," she said slowly, her mind racing. "Is he like your birth father?"
"God, no!" I erupted almost too forcefully. "I can't explain it all right now, but believe me, it's not that simple."
Rosalie nodded, her expression softening as she recognized the struggle within me.
"Fine," she said softly, her tone shifting to one of support. "I'll wait for you to share when you're ready."
"Look at you, being all fit," Stefan said with a teasing grin, his eyes sparkling under the sunlight. "Hey, are you going to the bonfire tonight? Sounds like fun, right?"
We were on the expansive school field, surrounded by the buzzing energy of cheerleaders.
Caroline, Bonnie, and a few others were stretching and preparing for their practice, their bright uniforms contrasting with the lush green grass. Tyler was engaged in spirited banter with the football team while Rebekah stood a short distance away, her piercing gaze fixed on us. Stefan jogged along the track, determined to keep pace with me.
"Seriously, Stefan," I scoffed, annoyance bubbling, "Leave me alone."
In defiance, I turned and sprinted in the opposite direction, but Stefan dared to run backward beside me, a playful smirk plastered on his face.
"You think I'm annoying now?" he teased. "Just wait until homecoming. By the way, who are you bringing? I don't want it to be weird."
At that moment, a guy accidentally collided with me, his face flaring with embarrassment. "I'm sorry," he apologized, a hint of surprise in his voice.
But before I could react, Stefan pushed him aside, the guy stumbling back and falling onto the ground.
"Watch it, jerk!" Stefan snapped, ire flashing in his eyes.
"Who do you think you are?!" I shouted at Stefan, my heart racing with frustration.
This was not the man I loved.
"I'm the guy assigned to protect a human blood bag. No offense or anything," he replied casually, mocking nonchalance in his voice. I stormed away, anger boiling inside me. "What?!" Stefan called after me, confusion lacing his voice.
I hurried into the school, my emotions spilling over as I stood in the girls' restroom, tears streaming down my face. I took refuge in one of the stalls, desperately trying to quiet my sobs when I heard footsteps approaching. I held my breath as two girls entered the bathroom.
"Okay, I could have sworn I saw someone come in here," Rosalie Hale remarked. "Your stalker is after Caroline now. Poor Caroline."
"Caroline can handle Rebekah just fine," Bella said.
"She seemed more interested in Tyler Lockwood,"
"Caroline or Rebekah?" Bella countered, raising an eyebrow.
"Both, but I thought Caroline was dating Matt Donovan."
"They broke up,"
"Damn, how do you know that?"
"Caroline told me," Bella explained with a shrug.
"Oh, but I guess Matt's sister's death took a toll on their relationship,"
"I wouldn't know anything about that," Bella replied quietly, her voice dropping. "I don't have any siblings."
Her words struck me harder than I anticipated; how dare she!
"You—you said that you were adopted…" Rosalie mused, her tone shifting to curiosity.
"Yeah?" Bella replied, her voice thick with emotion.
"What about your biological parents? Don't they have any kids?"
"I met my birth mother's mother," Bella said, dodging the question.
"What's she like?" Rosalie pressed, genuinely interested.
"She's wonderful. I wish I had met her before her daughter passed away. She's everything her daughter could have become if she'd lived long enough"
"Is she racist?"
You don't just ask someone if they're racist, I thought, feeling the tension rise.
"Holly cow," Bella exclaimed, her eyes wide. "You really hate your grandparents, don't you?"
"I don't hate them," Rosalie insisted, her tone resolute. "I just despise the fact that I'm related to them."
"I know the feeling," Bella muttered, her voice low as I remained hidden in the stall, heart racing.
"Did you notice Stefan Salvatore shove that guy?" Rosalie asked, shifting the topic as their voices drew closer.
"I noticed," Bella replied absentmindedly.
"What do you think is going on there?"
"Maybe it has something to do with Elena's aunt and uncle being dead—"
"Isabella?"
That was Stefan's voice, cutting through the conversation like a knife.
"This is the girls' room," Rosalie fired back sharply.
"Yeah… Rosalie, could we have a moment alone?" he requested, his tone firm yet calm.
"What?!"
"Stefan—"
"Rosalie—"
"I'm not going—"
"Rosalie, just tell Bella you'll see her later and leave."
"I'll see you later, Bella," Rosalie said reluctantly as she stepped out.
The door swung shut behind her.
"Stefan! What—"
"You and I need to talk," he said, his expression unreadable.
Bella fell silent momentarily, then mumbled, "What about?"
"Your sister."
"Stefan—"
"Are you going to the bonfire?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"What does this have to do with—"
"Good, because I need to babysit Elena, Rebekah, and Tyler, and I don't need you trying to beguile me."
"What?"
"I'm saying that you're seductive, and I don't want you—"
"Why would you need to babysit Elena and Tyler?" Bella sidestepped his remark.
"Well—"
"And how long have you been back?"
"Bella—"
"And how do you know Rebekah?"
"One question at a time, Isabella."
A long silence stretched between them until Bella murmured, "How do you know Rebekah?"
"She's Klaus' sister."
"What? Is she an Original, too?"
"Didn't anyone tell you?" he replied, i could hear smirk in his words.
"No."
"Hm."
"That would explain the 'yummy' comment."
Yummy comment?
"Do you need a ride home?" he offered, changing the subject.
"Sure…" she said hesitantly.
"Let's go."
I heard Bella complain as they stepped out, and in a rush, I unlocked the stall and hurried after them, my heart pounding with a mix of emotions.
"Check it out," Rosalie nudged me playfully, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Look who wants to be a cheerleader."
I followed her gaze and spotted Rebekah standing confidently next to Caroline, who wore an expression that clearly said she was not amused. Her arms were crossed tightly, and her brow was furrowed in irritation.
The final school bell had rung, signaling the end of the day, and while I longed to approach Caroline, I told Rosalie that I wanted to meander around the track instead. She insisted on joining me, her curiosity piquing as we kept a watchful eye on the new sports reporter nearby.
"Caroline can handle Rebekah," I said, trying to ease my curiosity as I glanced up the track and noticed Elena and Stefan chatting.
My heart raced—when did Stefan return?
Suddenly, a guy bumped into Elena, and without hesitation, Stefan sprang into action, swiftly shoving the guy to the ground. I watched Elena storm off, her fury palpable, leaving Stefan momentarily stunned. When he turned and waved in my direction, Rosalie gripped my arm tightly, her eyes wide with excitement.
"Did you see that?" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her enthusiasm.
"I did," I replied, still processing the scene before me.
"Trouble in paradise, perhaps?" she asked, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Yeah..." I mused, feeling the tension in the air.
"What's the story there?" Rosalie pressed, her curiosity swirling. "Do you know?"
"No," I answered, shaking my head. "But let's get moving; I really don't want anyone to overhear our conversation."
We stepped into the dimly lit school hallway and pushed open the door to the girls' restroom. It seemed empty at first, with the faint echoes of our footsteps resonating against the tiled walls.
"I could have sworn I saw someone slip in here," Rosalie murmured, her gaze darting to the stalls. "Looks like your stalker has moved on to Caroline now," she said, casting a concerned look my way. "Poor Caroline."
"Caroline can hold her own against Rebekah," I replied confidently, dismissing her worry.
Rosalie arched an eyebrow, then returned to inspecting the stalls. "She seemed more interested in Tyler Lockwood lately."
"Are we talking about Caroline or Rebekah here?"
"Both! But I thought she was dating Matt Donovan,"
I shook my head, a hint of sympathy in my expression. "They broke up not too long ago."
Rosalie turned to me, her eyes widened in surprise. "Damn, how do you know that?"
"Caroline told me," I admitted, recalling our last conversation.
"Oh," she murmured, her voice softening as she turned back to the stalls. "I guess his sister's death really affected their relationship."
I let out a quiet sigh. "I wouldn't know anything about that. I don't have any siblings."
"You— you mentioned you were adopted..." she said, her curiosity piqued.
"Yeah?"
"What about your birth parents? Don't they have any kids?"
"I met my birth mother's mother," I replied, a bittersweet smile crossing my lips.
"What's she like?"
"She's wonderful. I truly wish I'd met her before her daughter's passing. She embodies everything her daughter could have become if given the chance to grow old."
"Is she racist?" Rosalie asked, a playful smirk on her face.
"Holy cow, you really dislike your grandparents strongly, don't you?" I laughed softly.
"I don't hate them," Rosalie insisted, her grin widening. "I just can't stand that I'm related to them."
As I listened to her, I felt a pang of nostalgia as thoughts of Elena crept into my mind.
"I know exactly how you feel."
Suddenly, Rosalie pointed towards the second-to-last stall, and I noticed a pair of Chuck Taylors vanish from sight, presumably as someone stood on the toilet.
"Did you see Stefan Salvatore shove that guy?" she whispered, her eyes wide with intrigue.
We inched closer to the stall, straining to hear what was happening.
"I noticed," I replied, the tension rising.
"What do you think is going on there?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Elena's aunt and uncle are dead. Maybe—" I was cut off as thoughts raced through my mind.
"Isabella?"
A voice suddenly interrupted us, and we both jumped, startled. Stefan Salvatore striding toward us with an intense focus, his piercing gaze fixed solely on me.
"This is the girls' room," Rosalie said, her tone sharp as she turned to face him defiantly.
"Rosalie, could we have a moment alone?" Stefan asked smoothly, his voice like honey yet edged with authority.
"What?!" she exclaimed, clearly taken aback.
"Stefan—" I began, wanting to intervene.
"Rosalie—"
"I'm not going—" Rosalie huffed, unwilling to back down.
"Rosalie," he said, gripping her arm as he bore into her with an unwavering stare. "Tell Bella you'll see her later and leave."
Reluctantly, she turned to me, her voice strikingly robotic as she stated, "I'll see you later, Bella."
Rosalie left us momentarily, the air thick with tension. "What?! Stefan—" I exclaimed, my eyes wide as I focused on him.
"You and I need to chat," he said, his expression serious.
My knees felt weak under the intensity of his gaze as if they could give way at any moment. I struggled for words, searching for something to say as the silence stretched between us.
"What about?" I finally managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Your sister."
l didnt want total about her. "Stefan—"
"Are you going to the bonfire tonight?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"What does that have to do with—"
"It doesn't matter. It's probably for the best that you're not going. I need to watch Elena, Rebekah, and Tyler, and I don't want you to enchant me."
"Enchant you?" I repeated, perplexed.
"Yes, you heard me," he replied, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he stepped closer to me. "You have a way of captivating people, and I don't want to fall under your spell—"
"Why do you need to babysit Elena and Tyler?" I pressed, sensing he was trying to change the subject.
Even if I was flattered by his compliment, my resolve remained firm.
"Well—"
"And how long have you been back?" I cut in determination fueling my questions.
"Bella—"
"And how do you know Rebekah?" I pressed further, frustration inching into my tone.
"One question at a time, Isabella," he replied, calm yet commanding.
His tongue lingered over each letter of my name as he spoke; it sent a shiver down my spine.
Why did he say my name like that?
"How do you know Rebekah?" I asked again, my curiosity piqued.
"She's Klaus' sister."
"What? Is she an Original, too?"
"Didn't anyone tell you?" he replied, raising an eyebrow as if it were obvious.
"No."
"Hmm," he mused, a small, knowing smile on his face.
"That would explain the 'yummy' comment you made," I added, recalling her earlier words.
"Do you need a ride home?" he asked casually as if the gravity of our conversation had lifted.
"Sure..." I replied hesitantly.
Without warning, he gripped my arm and pulled me towards the exit.
"Hey, what are you doing?!" I exclaimed, startled.
We moved quickly towards his car, almost gliding across the pavement. He pushed me into the passenger seat, the door slammed shut, and I didn't stop driving until we reached my house.
"Elena was in there with you," he stated flatly.
"What?" I replied, my heart slipping into a whirlpool of confusion.
"Elena was eavesdropping on your conversation with Rosalie," he explained, his tone giving nothing away.
Anger welled inside me, but it didn't come as a surprise.
"And I bet everyone will try to justify it somehow," I said, turning to him, my tone sharp. "What's going on with Tyler?"
"He's a hybrid now, the first successful one," he admitted, his voice steady.
"What happened to the others?" I asked, needing to know more.
"They're dead," he replied curtly.
"Oh. Wait, how did Tyler become a hybrid?" I whispered, my mind racing.
"When Klaus killed him," he explained, looking straight at me.
"I'm sorry, what?!" I gasped, my breath catching in my throat. "When did this happen?!"
"Bella, Bella," he said, his hands gently cupping my face, his thumb brushing over my cheek. "It's okay. I'll have Tyler explain it to you later."
"Wait, wasn't Elena supposed to die for the curse to work?" I asked, my mind struggling with the implications.
"No, that was all bull shit. All hybrids must complete the transition by drinking the doppelganger's blood," he clarified.
"So she's essentially a human blood bag now?" I asked, my stomach twisting at the thought.
"Essentially," he confirmed, his expression nonchalant.
"How do you feel about that?" I probed, searching for more answers.
He shrugged, a flicker of indifference crossing his features.
"Am I supposed to feel something?"
"You don't fool me," I said, shaking my head.
"You really are out of the loop, Isabella. Didn't anybody tell you? I'm with Klaus now," he revealed, his gaze shifting away from mine.
"Keeping the peace?" I asked, hoping to understand his choice.
He averted his eyes. "Do you think about it?"
"Think about what?" I questioned, my curiosity piqued.
"Us. Making out in your bed," he stated, his voice low and sultry.
Yes, I thought.
"It hasn't crossed my mind," I lied, trying to sound convincing.
"You're a bad liar," he said, moving closer, an almost predatory glint in his eyes.
"Am I?" I breathed as he tangled his fingers through my hair, the electric connection between us intensifying. "Why are you on Klaus' side?"
"Ugh," he sighed, turning away, a hint of frustration threading through his voice. "I don't want to talk about that."
"What do you want to do then?" I pressed, refusing to let the topic drop.
"I want to talk about the many things i want to do to you," he said with a mischievous grin, "but i want to show you instead."
"You probably want to eat me," I shot back jokingly, flustered and intrigued.
"Not in the way you think," he replied, the smirk never leaving his face.
"Yeah, right."
"Why do you doubt that?" he challenged.
"Doubt what?"
"Doubt yourself. You turn heads, Bella."
"It's just being an awkward weirdo," I countered, folding my arms defensively.
"No, it's called being hot," he insisted, his gaze unwavering.
"I doubt—"
"You're sexy when you blush," he teased, watching my cheeks flush with warmth.
"You can't say things like that! Not when you're with Elena," I protested, feeling my heart race.
"That didn't stop you from kissing me," he shot back, his tone playful yet sincere.
"I was... I was... I shouldn't have done that to you. Besides, Elena wouldn't do that to you!" I argued, feeling a sting of guilt wash over me.
"You really think Elena's been living like a nun since I've been gone?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.
The thought threw me off balance. "She's been looking for you the whole summer!" I said, scrambling to defend her.
"With Damon," he replied pointedly.
"Well, she needed protection from what was out there!" I exclaimed, frustration creeping into my voice.
"There are a lot of vampires and werewolves that want to get in Klaus' good graces; no one would touch her," he replied, his expression unwavering.
"What about your Katherine?" I asked, trying to dig deeper.
"She's more scared of Klaus than anyone," he said dismissively.
"Of course, Damon has been putting the moves on her; that's just the type of guy he is," I said, shaking my head. "But I don't think she would do that to you."
"What do you know?" he challenged.
"You can't truly believe that," I insisted.
Just then, we heard a loud banging on my window that made both of us jump. I turned to see Caroline, Jeremy, Elena, Damon, and Mr. Saltzman standing just outside, their faces filled with concern.
"Bella!" Caroline called with urgency in her voice.
"Let her go," Mr. Saltzman demanded, his tone all business.
"I think Elena told them I abducted you," Stefan muttered, casting a sideways glance at me.
I sighed, reaching up to unbuckle my seatbelt. "I don't want to deal with them and their badgering questions," I said, exasperated.
"You wont."
"How do you know?"
"Call your grandmother," he instructed firmly.
"Why?" I asked, puzzled.
"Just do it; I have a plan," he insisted, his expression serious.
Reluctantly, I complied and handed my phone to Stefan. "Hello, Mrs. Higginbotham, it's Stefan Salvatore. Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am. Yes, ma'am, we're outside. Bella told me she was uncomfortable, and everyone hovering around my car wasn't helping her. Yes. Yes, ma'am, we can wait."
"Did you have to tell her that?" I said, exasperation lacing my words.
"Give it a minute," he replied, a hint of a smile creeping onto his lips.
They sat inside the car, the air thick with tension as Caroline glanced out the window, her brow furrowed in concern. "What do you think Stefan is doing with Bella?" she wondered aloud, her voice barely above a whisper.
Is he feeding off her?
Is Bella in danger?
The questions churned in her mind like a storm.
"Maybe we should get Bella's grandmother involved," Caroline suggested, her heart racing at the thought of the elderly woman being protective of her granddaughter.
Jeremy nodded in agreement, but the others- Damon, Elena and Alaric- seemed more interested in creating anxiety around Bella than helping her.
They were too eager to hound her until she finally spilled the secrets they sought, ensuring that Bella would retreat further into herself.
Suddenly, an angry voice cut through the air.
"Get away from her!" shrieked Mrs. Higginbotham, her cane clicking sharply against the pavement as she made her way toward them, determination etched onto her face.
'Caroline, did you call Bella's grandmother?' Damon asked as he turned to her.
Caroline turned sharply to see Stefan, a smirk playing on his lips, nonchalantly waving Bella's cell phone. His confidence felt like a taunt.
'No, Stefan did.'
Mrs. Higginbotham hobbled closer, her worry for Bella evident in her every step as Stefan exited the vehicle and moved to stand by Bella's side. Caroline's heart sank; it was as if he had turned Mrs. Higginbotham's concern into a weapon against them.
If Stefan were still the man she cared for, he would never act like this—never turn his back on them or Bella.
"Mrs. Higginbotham—" Jeremy and Caroline began, but Stefan interrupted them.
"Bella is all right," he said, his voice calm yet dismissive. "It's just that today is the anniversary of Vicky's attack." Caroline noticed Jeremy stiffen at the mention of the tragic event, a raw emotion flickering across his face. Stefan continued, "Along with the anniversaries of Mr. Tanner's death and her own attack," he glanced at Caroline, a piercing look that shattered her fragile self-acceptance. "It all got to be too much."
With a protective stance, he moved between them just as Mrs. Higginbotham reached the car door and opened it with trembling hands.
"Bella?!" Mrs. Higginbotham was half-sobbed, half-sighed, her weary eyes searching frantically for her granddaughter.
"I'm fine. I'm fine," Bella insisted, her voice strained as she inched away from Elena, Mr. Saltzman, and Damon. "I just needed to get away from the crowd."
"I want to talk—" Elena began, her tone insistent, but Stefan swiftly cut her off.
"That's too bad; you're the one causing Bella's anxiety."
Mrs Higginbotham glared at Elena as Stefan gave her- them- a taunting smirk.
"Maybe you should lie down," Jeremy suggested, his voice empathetic. He turned to Mrs. Higginbotham, a flicker of hope in his eyes. "Maybe if Bella were in her room, she'd feel safer."
Caroline understood Jeremy's reasoning; as far as she knew, Bella hadn't invited any vampires into her home, herself included.
As far as they knew...
But what did they really know?
Could Stefan and Klaus have approached Bella before they turned Tyler, coaxing her into inviting them in?
No, Bella wouldn't—
No, she wouldn't. She wouldn't allow Klaus anywhere near her. But Stefan...
The man dreamt of marriage and commitment.
Damon had mentioned that Stefan killed the woman he was dating on Elena's birthday; what if he had sought out Bella right after or even right before encountering Damon?
Panic washed over Caroline.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Stefan stride into Bella's house, his back turned to them, oblivious to the chaos he was about to unleash.
"Wait, Stefan's actually going inside Bella's house?!" Jeremy shouted, his voice laced with disbelief and fear. "Wasn't she compelled—" He abruptly went silent, realization dawning on him. "When did Bella invite Stefan into her home?"
"Maybe Damon wasn't the only person Stefan came to see when he returned," Caroline said, her own voice trembling with uncertainty as the gravity of the situation settled in.
Stefan and I stepped into Gran's cozy living room, the scent of freshly baked cookies wafting through the air. He gently guided me toward the well-worn couch, its fabric soft and inviting.
"Sit down, Bella," Gran said, her voice warm but firm.
However, an inexplicable urgency surged within me. I quickly followed Stefan to the door, where Damon loomed just outside, his presence radiating a tension that nearly crackled in the air. An unseen barrier held him back, preventing him from crossing the threshold.
I realized I hadn't invited him in.
"What's the matter?" Stefan teased, a playful smirk on his face. "Can't get in?"
"Invite me in," Damon commanded, his tone demanding as he locked eyes with me.
"No," Stefan replied sharply, his protective stance firming.
Elena rushed to Damon's side, her expression a mix of concern and frustration, as Stefan tightened his grip on Gran's wrist. "Stefan—"
"Hey," Gran protested, surprise flickering across her face as Stefan cupped her face gently yet firmly. "What—"
"Stefan—" I began, my voice shaky, but I faltered when I spotted Gran's vervain bracelet dangling precariously between his fingers, its significance heavy in the air.
"Don't let my brother in your house," Stefan said, his gaze piercing Gran's. "He and Elena only want to hurt Bella."
"They only want to hurt Bella," Gran echoed, the gravity of Stefan's words sinking in.
"Bella," Elena interjected, her voice rising with urgency, "you have to invite Damon inside. It's the only way you and your grandmother will be safe."
"Ah, yes," Stefan said, a sarcastic edge creeping into his tone as he moved closer to me. "Invite him in, so he can protect you." He wrapped an arm protectively around my shoulders. "After all he's done."
In all honesty, faced with the choice between Klaus and Damon, I would choose Klaus without hesitation.
"Did I ever tell you how Vicky died?" Stefan asked, his voice low as he stared at me intensely and sorrowfully. "Did anyone mention what went down between Damon and Caroline while she was dating him?"
No, they hadn't.
Stefan and I had never really discussed the tragedy surrounding Vicky, let alone the complications with Damon and Caroline's relationship.
"Did anyone mention what he did to Jeremy or how he bragged about turning Isobel?"
"It's not like that," Elena cried, desperation etched in her features.
"Ask Caroline. Ask Jeremy," Stefan insisted as he strode toward the door, each step infused with purpose. "All to torture me, or in Jeremy's case, because of Elena." He turned back to me, his voice steady. "Do you think he would hesitate to do the same—or worse—to you or your grandmother?"
"No," I admitted, my heart racing as the truth settled in.
He hadn't hesitated when I was nothing...
"I don't want those people in our home," Gran declared resolutely, focusing on Damon and Elena.
"You heard the lady," Stefan said, firmly shutting the door, cutting off Elena's pleading tone.
"Stefan—" I started, my voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.
"Mrs. Higginbotham," Stefan said, his expression softening as he turned back to Gran, taking her by the shoulders with a gentle yet serious demeanor. "Isabella and I are going upstairs for a while. Please don't disturb us." Gran retreated into the kitchen, her footsteps fading against the wooden floor as Stefan extended his hand toward me. "Shall we?"