"Are you just gonna stand there?" Darian asked without looking away from the screen.
"I don't want to sit," Vanessa replied quietly, her arms folded tightly across her chest.
The noise of the game, the laughter, the offhand remarks—they all felt like static around her. Every second she stood there reminded her why she left this place. It wasn't just the building—it was the weight of the people inside it.
She didn't trust any of them anymore.
"Vany... can we talk?" Catalina said softly, standing from the couch and walking over to her.
Vanessa turned to her, her voice sharper than she meant it to be.
"Don't call me that. We're not close like that anymore."
Catalina nodded, stung but understanding.
"Fine. But still—can we talk? Just for a minute." She glanced over her shoulder. "Darian, you mind?"
Darian didn't look up.
"Go ahead. Just bring her back."
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
"Bring me back?" She took a step forward. "Am I a prisoner now? You're seriously taking this too far."
Darian's grip on the controller didn't falter.
"I'm taking it this far because it's you."
Her voice rose.
"And you think I like being dragged here, treated like I owe you something?"
This time, he didn't respond.
He just kept playing—silent, but tense. The room grew heavier.
Vanessa turned back to Catalina.
"Let's talk. Now."
She didn't wait for a response. She was already walking toward the back exit, away from the smoke, the screens, and the ghosts she never asked to face again.
"What do you want to talk about?" Vanessa asked as they stepped outside, her voice cold, arms still crossed.
Catalina hesitated. "About..."
"No," Vanessa cut her off. "Let's not talk about that."
But Catalina didn't back down. "Will you ever forgive me?"
Vanessa's eyes sharpened.
"Forgive you? You stood by and watched while Darian played Hanna. You saw how bad it got. You saw her spiraling—and you did nothing."
Catalina flinched.
"I... What was I supposed to do, Vanessa? Hanna wouldn't listen. You know how she was."
Vanessa stepped in closer.
"It's not that you couldn't do anything. It's that you didn't. You chose to stay silent. You chose to stay close to him."
Catalina's eyes burned with sudden frustration.
"Tch. When are you going to stop being a bitch about it, Vany? How many times do I have to apologize before you pull your head out of your high horse and actually hear me?"
Vanessa's jaw clenched.
"You don't get to decide when I'm done being hurt."
She turned her back and walked toward the street without another word.
"Tell Darian I'm leaving," she said over her shoulder, not slowing down.
She didn't care if he followed. She didn't care if Catalina yelled again.
She was done pretending any of them still knew who she was.
At the exact moment Vanessa stepped out of the alley, she nearly collided with someone.
"Vanessa?" Vince said, freezing mid-step.
She blinked, just as surprised. "Vince?"
From behind him, Theo's eyes lit up.
"See? I told you I saw her!"
A beat of silence hung in the air, broken only by the distant sounds of the city.
⸻
A few minutes later, Vince and Vanessa sat together at a small park across the street from the chicken shop. The late evening breeze carried the scent of fried food and charcoal. Dale and Theo were still inside, arguing over sides and sauce, giving Vince and Vanessa a moment alone.
Vince leaned back on the bench, glancing at her.
"So... what were you doing in that alley?"
Vanessa kept her eyes forward.
"I went for a walk."
He raised an eyebrow.
"A walk? That far out of your neighborhood? Should I pretend to believe that, or..."
She turned to him, her voice a little sharp.
"Are you interrogating me now?"
Vince held his hands up with a slight smile.
"Nah. Just curious. That's all."
The air between them settled into silence again—not awkward, just... fragile.
Looking for something to shift the mood, Vince's gaze landed on a small swing set nearby. One of the swings was slightly larger than the rest—still made for kids, but big enough for someone their size.
He stood up suddenly and nodded toward it.
Without thinking, Vince reached out and gently took her hand.
Vanessa blinked, caught off guard, but didn't pull away.
"What are you—?" she began, but he was already guiding her toward the swing set.
She let him.
He helped her onto the seat without a word, then stepped behind her and slowly started to push the swing, the chains creaking softly in the quiet park.
"I don't know what you were doing before," he said finally, "but I couldn't shake that look on your face. So I figured... if I can give you even a second of peace, it's worth it."
She glanced over her shoulder, eyes narrowed slightly.
"You're weird. Who puts a girl on a swing to make her happy?"
"Someone who wants her to stay happy," he replied simply.
She looked forward again, gripping the chains.
Vince's words had that effect—sometimes unsettling, sometimes comforting. It was strange how someone she barely knew could say things that echoed so deeply inside her.
Like he was already leaving brushstrokes on her life.
And that scared her.
But it also... calmed her.
"Aren't you curious why I'm really here?" she asked softly.
Vince didn't hesitate.
"I am. But I'm not going to force it. I'll wait. You'll tell me when you're ready."
He pulled the swing back a bit and gave her another gentle push.
There was a long pause.
Then she spoke, barely above a whisper:
"Vince... thank you."
He smiled.
But from across the street, behind a parked car, someone else wasn't smiling.
Darian stood still, jaw clenched, watching them.
Eyes locked on Vanessa.