The hatred had eaten me alive.
I no longer cried every night. I simply stared at the ceiling, one hand on my swollen belly, the other clenched into a fist so tight my nails drew blood. Six and a half months pregnant, and I felt like a shell of the girl who once believed love could conquer Mystic Falls.
The baby kicked hard, as if protesting the storm inside me.
"I know," I whispered hoarsely. "I'm sorry, little one. Mommy's not okay right now."
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Stefan hadn't come back in five days.
He was respecting my ultimatum. No contact with Elena. No more "comforting" her. But the silence hurt worse than his presence. I missed him so much I ached between my legs and in my chest at the same time.
I was touching myself again that night — desperate, angry, lonely.
Legs spread on the bed, I imagined Stefan's mouth on me, his tongue fucking me deep while he looked up at me with those green eyes full of love and lust. My fingers moved faster, rubbing my swollen clit, dipping inside my soaked pussy as I chased release.
"Stefan… fuck—Stefan!" I cried out as I came, back arching, thighs trembling.
It wasn't enough. It never was.
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The next morning, I woke up to sharp pain in my lower abdomen.
I gasped, clutching my belly. The baby kicked frantically. Panic surged through me as another cramp hit.
"No… no, please," I whispered, tears instantly falling. I grabbed my phone with shaking hands and did the only thing I could think of.
I called Stefan.
He answered on the first ring, voice rough with exhaustion and fear. "Myra?!"
"Stefan… something's wrong," I sobbed. "The baby—there's pain. I'm bleeding a little. I'm scared."
"I'm already on my way," he said, and I could hear him moving, car door slamming. "Stay on the phone with me, baby. Breathe. I'm coming. I'm coming right now."
He talked to me the entire three-hour drive, voice steady even though I knew he was terrified. When he finally burst through my apartment door, he looked wrecked — but the moment his eyes landed on me curled up on the couch, he dropped to his knees beside me.
"Myra…" He gently lifted my shirt, his large hand covering my belly. The baby kicked against his palm. "Hey, little one. It's Daddy. You're okay. We've got you."
He helped me to the bed, then called a doctor he compelled locally. The diagnosis was stress-induced contractions. The baby was okay, but I needed rest and to lower my stress levels immediately.
After the doctor left, Stefan crawled into bed behind me, wrapping his body around mine protectively. One hand rested on my belly, the other stroked my hair.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm not leaving you again. Not ever."
I turned in his arms and kissed him desperately. The kiss turned hungry fast. Pregnancy hormones and weeks of separation made us ravenous.
Stefan peeled my clothes off slowly, kissing every inch of my changed body with reverence.
"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured against my rounded stomach, pressing soft kisses there. "Carrying my child. Fuck, Myra… I love you both so much."
He made love to me gently but deeply. I was on my side, one leg hooked over his hip as he thrust into me from behind, slow and perfect. His hand rubbed my clit while he kissed my neck and whispered how much he loved me, how he would never choose anyone over us.
I came with a long, broken moan, clenching around him. Stefan followed, burying himself deep and filling me as he groaned my name.
We stayed connected afterward, his hand never leaving my belly.
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But the darkness returned the next morning.
While Stefan was making breakfast, my phone lit up with a message from an unknown number. It was a screenshot from Elena:
Elena:Tell Myra I'm here if she needs anything. I love her. I just want our family back.
The hatred exploded.
When Stefan came back with food, I was sitting up, eyes cold.
"You blocked her?" I asked quietly.
"I did," he said carefully. "But she's still reaching out through others. Myra, she's your sister—"
"If you let her back in," I said, voice shaking with pure venom, "even through other people, even one message, I swear to God, Stefan… I will take my own life and the baby's before I let her near us."
Stefan looked like I'd driven a stake through his heart.
"Myra… please don't say things like that."
"I mean every word," I said, tears falling even as my voice stayed ice-cold. "I hate her, Stefan. I hate her for what she represents. For being the one you loved first. For still having a hold on you. If she comes near my baby, I will end everything."
Stefan pulled me into his arms, holding me so tight I could barely breathe. He was crying.
"I'll cut her off completely," he whispered brokenly. "No more. No indirect contact. No nothing. You and our baby are my whole world. I'll prove it every single day."
He kissed me then — desperate, tear-soaked, full of pain and love.
But even as we made love again, slow and emotional, I felt the fracture inside me widening.
The hatred for Elena had poisoned me.
And I didn't know if I could ever get rid of it.