Stefan Salvatore was gone. No one knew for how long, or if he’d ever come back — but for Elena Gilbert, it felt like the world had stopped spinning.

You saw her that night on the Mystic Falls bridge, staring out at the water like she was waiting for something to rise from it. You didn’t say anything — just stood beside her, hands in your pockets, sharing the silence.

“Everyone keeps telling me to move on,” she said quietly. “Maybe they just mean… keep living,” you offered.

She gave a small, humorless smile. “That’s not the same thing.”

It started small. Coffee runs that turned into walks. Walks that turned into late-night talks on her porch. Talks that turned into her falling asleep with her head on your shoulder, the ghost of her heartbreak still clinging to her but fading, piece by piece.

You never asked for more. You knew you were standing in the shadow of a love that had nearly destroyed her.

But then came the night she showed up at your door — mascara smudged, hair still damp from the rain.

“I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered. You didn’t say “I know.” You just let her in.

She kissed you like she wanted to forget. You kissed her back like you wanted to make her remember what it felt like to be alive.

After that, she kept showing up. Sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, sometimes pretending she wasn’t either. You didn’t ask her what you were to her — not yet.

But you saw the way her eyes lingered longer. The way she smiled softer. And maybe… the way her heart began to beat for you instead of against the memory of him.

One night, she confessed. “I know what this looks like,” she said, her voice trembling. “I know you think I’m using you to get over Stefan.”

You looked at her, steady. “I don’t think that.”

She swallowed hard. “Then what do you think this is?”

You hesitated — then said the only thing that felt true. “I think it started as something broken. But maybe it doesn’t have to stay that way.”

She stared at you for a long moment — and then, she smiled. It wasn’t the bright, effortless Elena Gilbert smile the world adored. It was something smaller. Real.

“Then let’s see where it goes,” she whispered.