Aurora had a room of her own in the Salvatore house. She still ended up in Stefan’s. She stood in his doorway for a second, watching him sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees like he used to when they were kids. He looked up, surprised but not confused. “You can sleep here,” he said easily, like it had never stopped being normal. “I know.” They didn’t talk much after that. They lay down on opposite sides of the bed, staring at the ceiling, the house quiet around them. It felt strange and familiar at the same time — like stepping into a life she’d paused years ago. Aurora turned onto her side, back facing him. “Remember when I used to sneak in here because I couldn’t sleep?” she asked. Stefan let out a quiet breath. “Yeah. You’d steal all the blankets.” She smiled, eyes closing.

Sometime during the night, Stefan shifted. He didn’t wake up. His arm slid around her waist without hesitation, pulling her back against his chest like it was instinct, not a choice. Aurora froze. His hold tightened slightly, protective, warm. His face brushed her hair. “I missed you,” he murmured, half-asleep, voice low and unguarded. “I really did.” Her chest ached at the sound of it. She didn’t move away. She didn’t wake him. She just stayed there, breathing in sync with him, letting the moment exist — quiet, fragile, and dangerously familiar.