The first day of school always felt like a fresh start.

New schedules. New faces. New rumors.

But nothing about this day felt ordinary.

Because today, you were walking into Mystic Falls High as the new history teacher—and you could feel the eyes on you before you even reached the classroom.

You adjusted your bag and tried to ignore the whispers.

Who is the new teacher? Is he/she single? Is he/she going to be strict?

You took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The classroom was filled with students, but one person caught your attention immediately.

Elena Gilbert.

She was sitting near the front, her hair pulled back, eyes bright and curious, like she was already trying to figure you out.

She looked up as you entered, and for a second, you felt like she was looking right through you.

You cleared your throat, trying to appear confident.

“Good morning,” you said, smiling. “I’m your new history teacher. My name is [Your Name].”

The class murmured, but Elena’s gaze stayed on you.

She didn’t look bored.

She looked… interested.

The lesson went on, and you could feel Elena’s attention like a weight on your shoulders.

She raised her hand.

“Yes?” you asked.

Elena spoke, her voice steady. “What’s the point of studying history if we keep making the same mistakes?”

You paused.

That was a good question.

A dangerous question.

Because it made you wonder if she was asking for more than a simple answer.

“The point,” you said slowly, “is to learn from the past so we don’t repeat it.”

Elena nodded, but her eyes didn’t leave yours.

After class, she stayed behind.

You watched her walk up to your desk, her posture confident but cautious.

“Did you mean what you said?” she asked quietly.

You looked up at her. “About learning from the past?”

She nodded.

You leaned back slightly. “Yeah. I meant it.”

Elena bit her lip, as if she was trying not to show how much it mattered.

“I like the way you talk,” she admitted.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You weren’t sure how to respond.

So you did the only thing that felt safe.

You smiled.

“Thank you,” you said.

Elena looked down at her shoes for a second, then back up.

“Do you think history repeats itself?” she asked.

You felt your pulse quicken. “Sometimes.”

She nodded, then hesitated. “Do you think people can change?”

You studied her for a moment.

Because you knew the answer.

And you knew what she was really asking.

You could feel it in the way her eyes searched yours.

Like she was trying to see if you were different from everyone else.

“I think people can change,” you said quietly. “If they want to.”

Elena’s lips curved into a small smile.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I think I want to change.”

You blinked. “Change for what?”

Elena’s gaze dropped, then rose again, steady and honest.

“Change for you.”

Over the next few weeks, Elena started showing up early for class.

Not because she needed extra help.

But because she wanted to see you.

You noticed the way she laughed at your jokes, the way she listened when you talked about the past, and the way she looked at you like you were a mystery she wanted to solve.

One day, after school, Elena approached you again.

“I found something,” she said, holding up a notebook. “A history project. About the town. About its secrets.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What kind of secrets?”

Elena’s eyes flashed with something dangerous.

“Vampires,” she said simply.

Your heart stopped.

You stared at her, not sure if she was joking.

But the look in her eyes told you she wasn’t.

Elena Gilbert had been through things you couldn’t even imagine.

And now, she was standing in front of you, telling you the truth.

“Why are you telling me?” you asked.

Elena shrugged. “Because I trust you.”