Mystic Falls had a way of turning normal things into chaos.

A town built on secrets, old grudges, and supernatural drama.

And now, somehow, you and Elena Gilbert were standing in a small, dimly lit office with a county clerk who looked like he’d seen it all—except this.

“Are you two sure about this?” the clerk asked, flipping through the paperwork. “Because once it’s filed, it’s filed.”

You and Elena exchanged a look.

Elena’s expression was hard, guarded—like she’d been forced to grow up too fast.

“We’re sure,” she said.

You could feel the tension in the air. Not just between you and the clerk.

Between you and Elena.

Because neither of you wanted to be here.

But both of you knew it was necessary.

You’d found out about the new threat in Mystic Falls the hard way—by being attacked, almost killed, and left with the terrifying realization that someone had a plan to expose the supernatural community to the whole town.

If the town found out the truth, it would mean chaos. It would mean danger. It would mean death.

And the only way to stop it was to create a story so convincing that no one would question it.

A story about you and Elena.

A fake marriage.

It was the kind of plan that only made sense in Mystic Falls.

You and Elena had been friends for a while, but you’d never crossed that line. Not because you didn’t want to, but because the timing had always been wrong.

And now, the timing was still wrong.

But the stakes were too high.

So you stood in front of the clerk, holding hands like you were actually in love, like you weren’t terrified of what you were doing.

The clerk slid the paperwork across the desk.

“Sign here,” he said.

You took the pen.

Elena’s hand brushed yours, and for a moment, the world felt quieter.

“Okay,” you whispered, mostly to yourself.

You signed.

Elena signed.

And just like that, you were legally married.

The first time you had to act like a real couple was at a town meeting, where everyone was suspicious and tired and looking for answers.

You and Elena stood side by side, pretending to be happy.

Pretending to be normal.

Elena’s hand found yours under the table, and you felt her squeeze gently.

You squeezed back.

The truth was—acting like a couple was harder than you expected.

Because you were pretending.

And pretending made your heart feel strange.

Like it was being pulled in two directions.

After the meeting, Elena led you outside into the night.

The moon was bright, casting a silver glow over the streets.

She turned to you, her eyes serious.

“Listen,” she said. “We can do this. We can make it work. But we have to be careful.”