The small coastal town of Willow Bay felt like another world.
No vampires. No ancient grudges. No Council killers. Just the constant crash of waves against the shore, the smell of salt in the air, and the quiet creak of the old wooden floors in my tiny apartment above the bookstore.
I had been here for almost three weeks now.
Every morning started the same: nausea that hit me like a truck the moment I sat up. I'd rush to the tiny bathroom, throwing up what little I'd managed to eat the night before. Then I'd sit on the cold tile floor, hand pressed to my still mostly flat stomach, whispering the same words over and over.
"It's just you and me, little one."
The pregnancy was progressing faster than normal — I could already feel subtle changes. My breasts were tender. My emotions swung wildly. And the magic inside me seemed to react to the baby, making my powers unpredictable. Last week I accidentally shattered a glass just by looking at it too hard.
I missed Stefan so much it was a physical ache.
But every time I picked up my phone to call him, the image came back: Stefan's arms wrapped around Elena in the library. Her face buried in his chest. The way he comforted her so naturally, like muscle memory from years of loving her.
His ex.
The girl he had chosen first. The girl who looked like Katherine. The girl everyone still saw as his epic love story.
My hatred for Elena had been growing like a poison in my veins.
It wasn't fair. I knew that. Elena had been nothing but kind to me. She was my sister. But logic didn't matter when jealousy and pregnancy hormones collided. Every memory of her and Stefan together — dancing at the 50s dance, the way he used to look at her, the fact that she was the reason he came back to Mystic Falls — twisted inside me until I felt sick.
She got to have him first. She got the epic love. And now, even when he was with me, she could still pull him back with a few tears.
I hated her for it.
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That afternoon, I sat on the balcony overlooking the ocean, wrapped in one of Stefan's old hoodies I'd stolen before running away. It still smelled like him. My hand rested protectively over my belly as the breeze played with my hair.
My phone — which I'd finally turned back on — buzzed again.
Stefan: Myra please. I'm losing my mind. Tell me where you are. I love you.
Elena: Myra, we're all so worried. Dad is spiraling. Come home. I miss my sister.
I stared at Elena's message until the screen blurred with tears.
Miss my sister.
The words tasted bitter. She got to play the caring sister while I was out here alone, pregnant with Stefan's baby — a baby that might be dangerous, that this world might try to kill.
I typed a reply with shaking fingers, then deleted it.
Instead, I called the one person I knew wouldn't push me too hard.
"Bonnie," I said when she answered, my voice hoarse.
"Myra?! Oh my god, where are you? Everyone's freaking out—"
"I'm safe," I cut her off. "But I need you to do something for me. Don't tell anyone you talked to me. Especially not Elena."
There was a long pause. "What's going on?"
I swallowed hard. "I'm pregnant, Bonnie. Stefan's baby. And I… I can't come back right now. Not with my dad the way he is. Not with Elena still… being Elena."
Bonnie's voice softened with shock and worry. "Pregnant? Myra… that's… wow. Are you okay?"
"No," I admitted, tears slipping down my cheeks. "I keep thinking about how Stefan used to love her. How he always seems to run to comfort her. How she'll always be his first love. I hate feeling like this, Bonnie. I hate her for it."
"You know Elena would never try to come between you two," Bonnie said gently.
"Maybe not on purpose," I whispered. "But she doesn't have to. She just… exists. And every time I see them together, it reminds me I'm the replacement. The second choice."
We talked for nearly an hour. Bonnie promised to keep my secret for now and send me some grimoires and pregnancy books through a discreet delivery. When I hung up, I felt both lighter and heavier.
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That night, the loneliness hit harder than usual.
I lay in bed, hand on my stomach, remembering the last time Stefan and I had been together. The way he'd made love to me like I was the only woman in the world. The way he'd whispered "I love you" with every thrust, the way his body felt moving inside me, deep and perfect.
My hand slipped lower, remembering.
I closed my eyes and let the memory take over. Stefan's mouth on my breasts, his fingers inside me, the way he groaned my name when he came. I touched myself slowly at first, then faster, imagining it was his hand, his mouth, his cock filling me.
"Stefan…" I moaned into the empty room as I came, tears mixing with the pleasure.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
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The next morning, another text from Stefan arrived.
Stefan: Iknow you're hurting. I know you saw me with Elena. It was nothing. She was breaking down about Jeremy and your dad. I was just being a friend. You are the love of my life, Myra. Please come home. Or let me come to you. I can't breathe without you.
I stared at the message for a long time.
Then I typed back with trembling fingers:
Myra: I need time. Don't look for me. And tell Elena to stop pretending she cares. She's already taken enough from me.
I turned my phone off again and curled up on the bed, sobbing quietly as the baby — our baby — grew inside me in silence.
I didn't know how long I could keep running.
But for now, with my heart broken and my hatred for Elena burning hotter every day, running felt like the only way to protect what was left of me.