The rain poured against the windows of the dimly lit mansion in Chicago. Klaus was out. Rebekah too. But Stefan? Stefan stayed behind—by choice.

You stood in the doorway, heart pounding louder than the thunder outside. You knew you shouldn’t have come. Elena didn’t know. Damon definitely didn’t. But this wasn’t about them. Not anymore.

This was about him.

Stefan said lowly from the shadows. The way he said your name—it was as if he hated the sound. But his eyes betrayed him. They lingered. Burned. Ached.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the storm. “I just needed to see you.”

His jaw clenched. The cut along his cheekbone was still healing, a memento from his latest spiral. Blood dried at the corner of his mouth. He didn’t even wipe it away.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growled, stepping out of the shadows. “I’m not safe for you. You don’t belong in this part of my life.”

You stood your ground. “I’m not here to save you, Stefan. I just… I can’t stop missing you.”