The low hum of conversation filled the Mystic Grill, warm lights reflecting off polished wood and glasses. You sat tucked into the booth beside Elena Gilbert, half-listening as Caroline Forbes animatedly talked about some town event, while Bonnie Bennett nodded along.

But your attention kept drifting.

Back to him.

Enzo St. John leaned casually against the bar, one elbow propped up, a glass in hand. He looked… effortless. Like he always did. Smirking at something the bartender said, dark eyes flicking lazily around the room—unbothered, confident, magnetic.

Yours.

At least… he was supposed to be.

You swallowed, fingers tightening slightly around your drink. That familiar feeling crept in again—quiet, unwelcome. The one that whispered you’d been second before. That maybe you always would be.

“You okay?” Bonnie asked softly, her eyes flicking to you.

You forced a small nod. “Yeah. Just… tired.”

Caroline didn’t buy it, but before she could say anything—

The door opened.

And like something out of a bad cliché, she walked in.

Brittni.

You didn’t even need to ask. The way she carried herself—overly confident, just a little too loud, like she wanted every eye in the room on her. And somehow… she got it.

Including his.

Your heart dropped, just a little, as her gaze locked onto Enzo almost instantly.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Caroline muttered under her breath.

Brittni didn’t hesitate. Didn’t look around. Didn’t care who she passed.

She made a straight line to the bar.

To him.

You felt it before you even fully saw it—the way she leaned in just a bit too close, the way her smile lingered too long. Her laugh—light, practiced—rang out, and Enzo glanced down at her.

You couldn’t hear what she said.

But you saw his reaction.

A small smirk.

Your chest tightened.

It wasn’t a big thing. It wasn’t even wrong. Enzo was charming—he smiled at everyone like that. You knew that.

So why did it feel different?

Why did it feel like the beginning of something slipping?

“Hey,” Elena said gently, her hand brushing yours on the table. “Look at me.”

You did, barely.

“He’s not choosing her,” she said, steady and sure.

You nodded again, but your eyes betrayed you, drifting right back to the bar.

Because Brittni had stepped closer.

And Enzo hadn’t moved away.

Your throat felt tight, thoughts spiraling faster than you could stop them. She’s prettier. Easier. Louder. The kind of girl people notice first. The kind of girl you’d always come after.

The kind of girl who replaces you.

You didn’t even realize you’d gone quiet until—

The sound of a glass setting down a little too firmly cut through the noise.

And suddenly—

Enzo’s eyes weren’t on her anymore.

They were on you.

Locked in.

Sharp. Focused. Like the rest of the room didn’t exist.

Brittni was still talking, still smiling—but he wasn’t listening now.

Not really.

Because something in his expression shifted the moment he saw your face.

And without a word, he straightened, stepping away from the bar—

From her—

Like it was the easiest decision in the world.

And started walking toward you.