It had been one of those nights in Mystic Falls—cold, quiet, with the wind whispering through the trees as if warning of things unseen. You were sitting on the old stone wall behind Elena’s house, talking about everything and nothing, when she suddenly went silent.

Her hands were trembling slightly, and for the first time, you noticed the weight in her eyes—the exhaustion of keeping secrets, of living a life shadowed by danger and loss.

“You okay?” you asked softly, moving closer.

She shook her head, not taking her gaze off the distance. “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Everything’s so confusing right now. I feel like I’m losing control… of myself, of everything around me.”

Before you could respond, she leaned closer, her lips brushing yours almost hesitantly. The kiss was brief but electric—full of confusion, longing, and a vulnerability she rarely let anyone see.

Elena pulled back, her eyes wide, cheeks flushed. “I… I didn’t mean to—”