The town of Savannah feels wrong.

Too quiet. Too human. Too final.

You stand just inside the doorway, arms folded tight across your chest like they might hold you together if everything else gives way. Stefan’s place smells like cheap coffee and resignation. The kind of place someone hides in when they don’t want to be found.

Stefan stands across from you, arms crossed, eyes flat. Not guilty. Not relieved. Just… distant.

“You should’ve stopped,” he says coolly. “Both of you.”

Your breath stutters. “Stopped what?”

“Looking for me. Looking for answers. Looking for hope that isn’t there.” His jaw tightens. “Damon’s gone. Bonnie’s gone. And you—” he gestures vaguely toward you “—you’re clinging to ghosts.”

That one lands.

Enzo bristles beside you, already half a step forward, but Stefan doesn’t look at him. He looks straight at you.

“I’m done cleaning up everyone else’s mess,” Stefan continues. “I tried. I failed. And I’m not destroying myself again because you need your brother to save the day.”

Your throat closes. “I didn’t ask you to save anything. I asked you not to disappear.”

He exhales, sharp and impatient. “I don’t owe you that.”

Something in your chest fractures—quietly, completely.

“Fine,” you say, voice too steady. “Then I won’t waste any more of your time.”

You turn before either of them can stop you, before Stefan can see what he’s done, before Enzo can say something that gets his neck snapped—which, unfortunately, happens anyway.

You’re halfway down the stairs when you hear it.

A dull crack.

You don’t turn back.

The car is cold when you slide into the driver’s seat. Too quiet. Your hands shake as you grip the steering wheel, staring straight ahead like if you don’t blink, you won’t fall apart.

That’s when your phone rings.

“Elena” flashes across the screen.

You swipe to answer, forcing air into your lungs. “Hey.”

“Hey you. Put on some party clothes and come to Whitmore. Tyler’s coming over and we are going out.”

You swallow. “You sound good.”

“I am good,” Elena says, bright and hopeful. “I ditched all my classes and hung out with Rick. We talked about Bonnie. I had a good cry and… I don’t know. I really feel like things are taking a turn for the better. So get your ass down here and let’s have some fun.”

Your lips tremble into something like a smile. “Well, how ’bout I sneak into the dorms later and spend the night. For old time’s sake.”

“Sounds perfect. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You hang up.

And the second the screen goes dark, the dam breaks.

You fold forward, forehead resting against the steering wheel, shoulders shaking as silent sobs rip through you. Your brother is alive—and somehow that hurts worse than not knowing.

The passenger door creaks open.

Enzo groans as he slides into the seat. “Well,” he mutters, adjusting himself, “that was a bit of a bust.”

No response.

Your head turns slightly toward the window, tears still slipping free. You stares out into the trees, jaw clenched, praying your voice doesn’t betray you.

Enzo notices anyway.

“Hey.” Nothing. “Hey,” he repeats, leaning closer this time.

He reaches out, gentle fingers tilting your chin until you had no choice but to look at him.

And there it is.

Tear-stained cheeks. Red-rimmed eyes. That look people get when something breaks and they don’t know how to put it back together.

His expression shifts instantly—anger bleeding through concern. He brushes his thumb under your eye, wiping away a tear with surprising care.

“…I’ll be right back,” he says quietly.

Before you can stop him, Enzo steps out of the car, shuts the door with controlled force, and turns back toward the cabin—jaw set, eyes dark, already halfway to confronting the brother who just reduced you to tears.