Chapter 6 - Decisions

 And the countdown begins...

Nibble. Stare. Breathe. Repeat. 

My bed had become my best friend, the four walls around me my only companions. When you spend close to a week in isolation, this routine becomes second nature. Just like it did for me. Ever since I came back from the doctor’s, I had locked myself up in my room, sprawling across my bed, swearing to never move. Of course, that oath had been broken by the frequent trips to the bathroom and daily visits to the door where Caroline awaited with a tray of food and a sympathetic smile.

I wasn’t supposed to be this disheartened in life. I wasn’t supposed to be this broken. I was supposed to get back up, just like always. My heart had ached tremendously when my parents had abandoned me in a car accident when I was thirteen; swerving just over Wickery Bridge. But I didn’t let the tears drown me in misery, I got back up. I had to, for my younger brother Jeremy. I had heard my heart crumble into pieces when I left Damon three years ago. But I still got back up, reassuring myself that this was for the best. That I loved him enough to let him go. The tears had resurfaced, pushing me towards a dark abyss filled with weak whimpers and incessant sobs. And yet I promised to survive the next day, for Jeremy who had no one else to call family, for Damon whom my soul craved to see one more time. My heart had trembled the day I had opened my eyes to an empty bed. No note. No phone call. Just deafening silence mocking me as I repented my mistakes. Matt had disappeared, not ready for a responsibility as serious as pregnancy. And yet I got up, knowing very well the withdrawal he was going through. No matter how much reality taunted me everyday, I mustered courage to walk till the finish line this time. No turning back. No matter how much my past beckoned out to me.

I guess my heart was too broken to break again. I guess I was too tired of getting back up. 

It wasn’t until I saw how close I was to death that I realized how much I hadn’t lived. I still remembered writing a bucket list when I was younger, now tucked away in some box in the back of my closet. I had been so excited when preparing my list, admiring all the places I wanted to visit in the world, fascinated by all the adventures the world had to offer. I wanted to indulge in different cultures, meet new people, establish an identity for myself; by becoming a professional Tango dancer. Dance had been the best form of expression, a feeling of incomparable freedom as I matched my heart beat to the beats of the music. Every move conveyed emotions so strong it was hard to not indulge into it. I had everything planned, the naive yet excited pair of honey brown orbs imagining a future for herself.

And then reality happened.

Within a few years of my dreams, I realized my hobby had turned into my survival system; my sole escape from my morbid life. Within a few days into my absolute abandonment, I acknowledged the value of money, the need to remain strong for my brother. It was in times of desolation that I sought comfort in the world of novels. Of endless imagination and possibilities. Many stories felt relatable, some felt like a distant dream waiting to be fulfilled. Yet every book sparked a ray of hope. Every happy ending gave me the courage to wait for my own. So that’s what I pursued.

My reality had changed. But my dreams weren’t forgotten. Every time I would think of them, my mind would persuade the thought out of my head. That I would do all of this later, when I had the time. When I was financially stable enough to splurge on a world tour. When I was rebellious enough to leave my job for a Rumba dancing spree. When I was courageous enough to step out of my safe haven of a home to explore unpredictable possibilities.

Only, I didn’t have any time left anymore.

All that future planning gone to waste because I never considered my heart to give up on me. And while anyone in my place would want to live these last few months to the fullest, I didn’t. I didn’t want to pursue my dreams, I didn’t want to drown myself in overwhelming happiness. I didn’t want people to care for me, didn’t want myself to grow so attached to them. I didn’t want any of this in fear that I won’t be able to let it go.

My life would be too precious for me to give it up. I just wouldn’t be able to.

And so I resolved that I would live these last eight months for my baby. I had been given a chance to experience motherhood, and I promised myself to live it all in these few months. I will love my baby so much that he wouldn’t miss my presence, even when I’m gone. He won’t have to go through losing a parent, because he’ll never long for one. All these months I had pestered over the various challenges of being a single mother, complaining about this baby being nothing but a burden. But now I realized that my baby would be my salvation. My heart was already weak enough that letting him go would crumble and free me of whatever I had left. I would ensure my baby in the arms of a confident and loving woman, not the inexperienced, hesitant ones like my own.

I would do whatever it takes for my baby. Nothing else held any purpose anymore.

Perhaps the baby grew giddy at my resolution, for I suddenly found my stomach grumbling for something. I finally sat upright in bed, suddenly exhausted from lying around aimlessly. Shifting amidst the covers, I stood up, stretching my arms with a groan before running my fingers through my wavy hair. Tying it up in a messy bun, I checked for the time - 1:23 AM. This was odd; I barely felt hungry in the middle of the night.

Shrugging callously at the lack of logic in my stomach patterns, I tightened my silky lavender robe around the mid-thigh nightgown before opening my bedroom door for the first time in days. It was strange, yet relaxing to find my home just the way it was before my brief period of isolation. My stomach grumbled in defiance once more, reprimanding me for distracting myself. I rushed to the kitchen on the other end of the living room, thinking of making myself a sandwich. My belly growled in denial, forcing me to think out of my comfort zone. Perhaps, pizza? Too much. Pasta? Too heavy. Plain toast? Boring. A cup of coffee? Caffeine, again?

I huffed in irritation, going through cupboards to find something to my baby’s liking. It was as if he detested everything I liked. I frowned grumpily at the thought that my child and I had started battling on tastes already. It wasn’t until I opened a particular cupboard on the right, eyeing a jar I absolutely hated but found my stomach fluttering in excitement. This couldn't be true! No matter how much I tried to protest with other options, I ended up surrendering to the jar of supposed goodness.

Uncapping it, I found myself relishing it’s aroma before grabbing a spoon and diving right in. Oh how much my mind shrieked at my actions. Oh but how satisfying did it taste! I hopped onto the kitchen counter before taking another spoonful of its sweetness.

“Are my eyes deceiving me or is Elena Gilbert actually raiding my precious jar of Nutella?” I jumped at the male voice, turning my head in caution only relaxing a second later.

“You scared me, Damon!” I caught my breath, turning back to the bottle of chocolate in hand. 

He passed a dubious look as he approached me, “You’re scaring me more.” His look of apprehension made me giggle while he continued, “You’re hogging on something you absolutely despise because of its supposed ‘over sweetness’. I can’t believe this.”

I sagged in defeat, grabbing another spoonful helplessly, “I know! I hate that I love this right now but it just feels so good!” I moaned in delight, closing my eyes to savor its succulent taste.

My breath stuck in my throat as soon as I fluttered them open. Damon had inched a lot closer to me, stepping in just between my legs dangling from the kitchen counter. His orbs had darkened with a raw need I recognized too well, his uneven breath tickling my face as I tilted it upwards to meet his captivating gaze. My body shivered at the familiar proximity; in excitement or in fear I couldn’t quite decide. I suddenly became all too aware of my clothing; or the lack thereof. I hadn’t even worn a bra considering the time of day, and unfortunately his effect on me was still quite evident.

“Um...Damon?” I asked meekly, looking up at him.

He refused to say anything, his light blue orbs shifting from my honey brown ones to my lips. I nervously bit my lip out of instinct and wondered whether I had actually heard him say something in approval. His fingers trembled up to my face, his eyes wavering everywhere until the pad of his thumb brushed across the corner of my lower lip. I drew in a breath while his touch lingered, gently caressing before wiping something off. His finger returned, probably assessing the softness of my lip as he huskily whispered, “It does.”

“Hmm.” I leaned into his touch; feeling the silkiness of his hands, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne.

“I thought you’d left.” I whispered with a sigh as I faintly opened my eyes to his deep blue depths.

“I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” He murmured back, the intensity of his words breaking my reverie. I don’t know whether it was the guilt of what I did three years ago or the anger his words evoked, but I immediately stiffened, causing him to step back with caution. I hopped off the counter, lidding the jar of Nutella before storing it back in its place. The antique clock hanging on the adjacent wall chimed twice just as I washed off the spoon, leaving it to dry.

“You should go and get some rest, Damon. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” I advised tersely while pacing down the hall to my room.

“Elena.” His pleading voice halted me in my tracks as he repeated the words I once had, “We need to talk.”

“That’s a little too much to ask for, don’t you think?”

I grimaced at the frostiness of his tone as he barged in our home, throwing his suit jacket to one side before pacing lividly. I followed suit, hoping to fix what I did at his party.

“Damon, give me a chance to--”

“After everything, you still want me to give you another chance?” He lashed out, his eyes glittering fiercely.

“You hurtled into my annual official ball without even telling me, Elena!”

“You went off gallivanting with that Katherine Pierce without telling me, Damon!” I bit back.

He rolled his eyes before groaning out loud, “God how many times do I have to tell you, she’s just a client!”

“‘Just a client’, yeah right.” I mocked under my breath.

He took two steps towards me, “Why are you jealous? You told me yourself you wouldn’t feel jealous, Elena.” He reminded me accusingly.

I met his eye with equal force, “I said that when we were together, Damon.”

“We still are.” He looked away, the conviction in his tone suddenly wavering. 

I stepped up to him, my hands desperately reaching for his face, “Why doesn’t it feel like it? Why does it feel like you’re drifting away from me?”

He retreated immediately, the rejection coursing through my body making me feel lower of myself than ever.

He ran a hand through his mussed hair, his other hand fitted perfectly in his pocket. “Nothing like that.” He whispered, looking away.

Had I committed such a grave sin that he refused to even spare me a look?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, finally expressing the biggest fear I had in me, “Are you...are you sleeping with her?”

The gaze he held for me was never benign anymore. His eyes always ignited in fire, his face always cold and hostile.

“You’re seriously asking me this?” He accused with bewilderment.

My voice trembled hysterically, “I don’t hear you denying it.”

“No, Elena. I’m not sleeping with her. I wouldn’t cheat...I thought you knew that.” He fumbled, allowing guilt to engulf me.

I approached him with caution this time, my steps hesitant as the cream colored gown sashayed across the floor.

“It feels like I don’t know you anymore, Damon.” I whispered, gently cupping his face in my dubious cold hands. He finally looked at me; his eyes an ocean of vulnerable emotions.

“Let me know you again…” I pleaded desolately before feathering his lips with my own while my eyes drifted shut. 

I wanted to remain slow, letting him decide whether he wanted this moment, but as soon as my lips reunited with his, my control snapped. It had been too long since I had felt the softness, longer since I had felt the love emanating from him. 

Love that he had for me.

And so I clutched his face tighter, moulding my lips to his by tilting my head. I took in the intoxicating taste of champagne with every kiss, no longer aversing to its bitterness. I took in the musky scent of him, a scent that was so uniquely Damon. I felt his hands slowly slither around my waist, pulling me closer. I abided with eagerness, delving my fingers into his silky hair, tracing every inch of his enticing lips before biting his lower one that made him growl. I smiled to myself, diving deeper with our kiss, letting our tongues dance together, feeling shivers bolt down my spine. My hands trailed lower, opening the first two buttons of his white shirt, eager to feel his skin under my fingertips. I needed to know that he loved me. I needed to know that I hadn’t lost him forever.

I would lose myself if I lost him.

Maybe I feared too soon, for his hands shackled my wrists, stopping me from going further. I opened my eyes to his hesitant ones, the shades of darkness of raw passion silently ebbing away.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

“It’s because of what I did, right?” I stepped away guiltily.

“I--I’m trying to understand, but I can’t forget it, Elena.”

I nodded obediently, my head lowered in shame, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, no matter how much I try to.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“It is, Damon. I asked for your forgiveness, I confessed why I did what I did but--”

“It’s not that easy to move past this, Elena.” He sighed, turning away from me.

I finally let out the question I had been desperate for an answer to.

“Is it too much to ask for?” My words echoed through him when I tried to walk away.

I turned on my heel to find Damon Salvatore in his regular checkered pajamas and white tee, waiting for an answer.

“Alright.” I finally relented, unable to take the lingering tension any longer. 

He walked over to the beige colored couch centered in front of the TV, not before grabbing two spoons and the jar of Nutella from the kitchen.

Once he motioned me to join him with a raise of eyebrows, I walked over to the couch, perching myself on his right with my legs folded in front.

“What do you want to talk about?” I finally asked.

“You.” He replied with sincerity, his orbs suddenly intense as he passed a stainless silver spoon in my direction.

“I know you don’t like pity. And I’m sorry I made you feel like that the other day.” He apologized, leaving me startled. Three years, and this man still understood me so well.

“It’s okay.” I smiled in acceptance before he continued, “But I want to know your thoughts on this matter. How you’re coping up with this news.”

I reached for a spoonful of chocolate spread before deciding to reveal, “It took me a while to accept all of this.”

He nodded, his eyes full of understanding, “It’s ironic, considering the number of times I’ve gone through heartbreak in my life.” I tried to giggle but managed to weakly scoff. “I never thought it would be equally damaged as an organ too.”

His orbs clouded with pain as he hunched over his shoulders, his elbows on his knees. I shifted enough to rest a hand on his forearm in comfort, “Don’t blame yourself for any of this, Damon.”

I knew from his face what he had been recalling; the doom of our relationship. He was well aware of my parents and the impact of their absence on me. I suppose he was still oblivious to the identity of the father of my baby, but could relate to the heartbreak no less.

“I am to be blamed though, Elena. If only I had looked past that night, if only I worked enough on our relationship, you wouldn’t have suffered through all the pain alone.” He looked away in misery.

“It was too much to ask for.” I found his gaze reconnecting with mine.

“I probably didn’t understand then, but I do now. Asking for a second chance after what I did was unreasonable. I had broken your trust.” I admitted.

“But I loved you.” The sudden jolt of trepid fluttering from the admission of those magical words soon lessened to a throbbing lull as reality dawned upon me. ‘Loved’. This love for me no longer existed.

I heaved a sigh, “Love deserves love in return too. Not betrayal.”

“Elena, it took two to ruin that relationship. Not just you, but me too.” He confessed, taking my hand in his.

“I gave up on us so easily. I--”

“Damon, please.” I stopped him tersely. Having him around had helplessly been reminding me of memories I wished to forget. But hearing him talk about it, wanting to revisit those days filled with accusatory screams and painful silences was just too difficult for me.

“I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” I instantly remembered his words after repeating them without thought.

“Whatever we had, or didn’t, it’s over. It was in the past. There’s no point going over things we’ll never be able to correct.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. 

I waited patiently, hoping he would understand what I wanted to say.

“Yeah. We moved on. I’m married and you’re…” He left his sentence hanging as his eyes nervously shifted from mine to the slight, almost non-existent bump in my lower abdomen.

“...pregnant. I know.”

“So what have you thought about this entire...situation?” He diverted, leaning back against the couch to look at me intently.

I positioned myself on the edge of the sofa, my fingers battling with each other as I debated on the best way to present my resolution.

I guess there was no other way than to directly come clean, “I’ve mentally prepared myself to consider the remaining eight months of my pregnancy as the last months of my life, Damon.”

He straightened immediately, about to protest when I intervened, “I know you’ll object to this. But just hear me out once, please.”

My babymate forcibly let go with a frown, which was all the sign I needed to continue.

“Let’s face it, my heart’s already weak. Figuratively, maybe, but literally for sure. My pregnancy is going to pressure this organ even more in the following weeks, but I don’t consider this a burden. Because it’s giving me a chance to experience something I never thought I would; motherhood.” I confessed, watching a timid smile reciprocate on his face too.

“I know from my symptoms that I won’t be having a mild case of mitral stenosis that is easily curable. And there’s only a certain limit on the dosage of my medicines to prevent its effects on my baby. I can’t let anything happen to him, Damon.” I persuaded, wrapping an arm around my stomach.

“He’s the only one I have left. He’s the only one I have to call my own. Even if it’s for a little while.” A tear rolled down my cheek as I looked away.

“I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my baby, Damon. These eight months are for him, no one else.”

His eyes burned through mine as he bit his lip and forced tears back. “And what about after your baby’s born? You’ll just abandon it?”

“I won’t. I’ll find a  decent foster couple, a mother who’ll take the best care of him. I’ll give him the perfect family so that he won’t remember me at all.”

He swallowed before leaving my hand, “It won’t be it’s mother.”

“It’ll be much better. I’m not capable of being a mother, Damon.” I tried to convince.

“Not this again.” He grew perturbed.

I approached his forearm again, “I know what you said the other day. But I also know the reality. I can’t be a mother when I couldn’t even be a good girlfriend.”

He shook his head vehemently, scoffing cynically as he got up, “I’m not supporting you in this suicide mission, Elena.”

I stood up too, walking up to him, “It’s not suicide when I don’t have a choice, Damon!”

I watched him stiffen when I whispered, “I am going to die, Damon.”

He tersely turned, grasping my face in his hands ever so gently as he pleaded, “No. I won’t let you. I can’t let you.”

The intensity of his orbs as he bored them into mine was so fierce it made me break down. He seemed so vulnerable, so young, so sad like he had towards the end of our relationship.

I clutched his hands on my face, squeezing them lightly in persuasion as I sniffed, “You need to let me go, Damon.”

His forehead touched mine as his lips quivered, “I’m incapable of letting you go, ‘Lena.”

‘Lena.

He called me ‘Lena.

He called me by the name he had lovingly given me.

I looked up at him in astonishment, his gentle caress breaking another dam of tears, “Don’t do this Damon. Don’t make this hard on me.”

“Don’t leave me, then.” He insisted, his hands falling from my face to clasp my own.

I bit back on tears, “You’re not alone, Damon. You’ve got a family. But I won’t be able to live without one any longer.”

His eyes glistened as his voice cracked, “You have this baby. You have me.”

I shut my eyes and shook my head before pursing my lips, “Just for eight months. I’m not fortunate enough to experience so much love and belongingness all over again, Damon.”

His lips curved inwards into a grim line as he held onto my hands, rummaging for another reason. I waited patiently, knowing I’d treasure this moment for the rest of my life. 

“You’re depriving this baby of it’s mother.” He frowned.

“I told you--”

“It won’t be the same. It’ll never be the same.” He protested.

I tilted my head to one side, rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand, “It’ll be better. So much better. I’ll give my baby the future he deserves.”

“How will it know you?” He countered, his eyes vulnerable with fear.

I reached up to caress his face, “I trust you and Caroline to tell him all about his birth mother. But only the good things, okay?” I tried to joke but only ended up sobbing even more.

I clutched the back of his neck with one hand, hiding my head in his chest, “Promise me you won’t forget this baby, Damon. Promise me you’ll visit him sometimes.”

I felt a soft kiss in my hair as I pulled back, “I know you have a life of your own, a family to take care for. Katherine might not approve, but--”

“Hey, hey.” He hushed my rapid train of thoughts with a pad of thumb wiping away my tears. 

I sniffled, tilting my head upwards to meet his gaze, “I’ll need to know that you’ll be there for him, even when I won’t.”

He took me in his embrace, the warmth radiating to my soul as I sighed. His arms wrapped around me as he soothed, “I’ll give this baby the future it deserves, ‘Lena. I’ll give it to it's birth mother, the best mother.”

“Damon…” I protested but he silenced me with a hush.

“You say you won’t live longer than the birth of this baby. But I say this baby will give you a new lease on life. A life filled with happiness you always wanted. A family you always craved for. Love that you deserve.” 

His voice lowered to a whisper, his words as tender as a feather, “You’ll get past this, like you have with everything else. Because you’re a strong woman who deserves to live, Gilbert.”

He tightened his arms around me while I surrendered further into his arms. No matter how much I could predict the end of my life, his words held so much conviction they made my heart helplessly leap in hope.

A little hope wouldn’t do any harm.

I hummed in satisfaction when he pointed out, “Question. How do you know the baby’s gonna be a ‘he’?”

I pulled back with a frown, suddenly realizing how I had unknowingly been referring to my baby that way.

“I don’t know actually. I think it just happened naturally.” I explained with a chuckle.

He shook his head before playfully tapping my nose, “It’ll be a baby girl.”

“Your liking for women extends to babies too?” I shrieked with horror, hiding a mischievous smirk.

“Oh shut up.” He groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Damon Salvatore the infamous womanizer has eyes for little girls too! That would make a juicy headline for a tabloid.” I giggled, falling back on the couch.

He joined me similarly as I continued, “God, Damon. That’s just too much, even for you.”

He scowled at me before smirking, “What does that say about your standards, considering we dated for three years?”

I gasped at how the tables had turned before scrutinizing my eyes at him, “My boy won’t grow up to be a womanizer, I’ll ensure that.”

“It’s going to be a girl, I’m telling you. She’ll be as stubborn as you and as wicked as me.” His lips curved into a sly smirk.

“You’re a bad influence on my son.”

“I’m the best influence on your daughter.”

“Really?” I asked with a raise of brows.

“Of course. I’ll tell her all about bad boys that she’ll swear off them.” He chuckled to himself as I noted, “I never thought you’d hope for a girl. I mean you have a boy yourself…”

“Louis.” He revealed as I smiled over the name, “Louis. I like it.”

“I’ve always wanted a daughter. It’s just...I don’t know. There’s something about the connection between a father and a daughter that’s so special.” His eyes sparkled with childlike excitement. It was an emotion I had rarely seen on his face these days, an expression I basked along with other precious memories.

“Maybe you will.” I promised, covering his hand with mine.

I didn’t bother to specify it would be with Katherine. He didn’t point out either.

Maybe we both wanted to escape reality.

Maybe we both craved to live a ‘happily ever after’ with each other.