Bound by Fate

Chapter 6

Genevieve

Chili’s stood just across the road from the main gate of the school, adjacent to the residential area where faculty members resided, including my current home.

It was a spot I passed by daily.

Fast-casual dining joints like Chili's and Applebee's are often labeled as high-calorie, junk food, cautioned against by some parents for their children.

For kids from other families, though, it was a kind of "luxury" they eyed with longing, occasionally resisting the urge to splurge as they walked past.

Vincent belonged to the former category, naturally.

From my recollection, I used to be in that category too. But after my dad's business went under, leading him to take his own life and leaving the loan sharks to snatch away all our family savings, I found myself transitioning to the latter category.

Vincent seemed puzzled for a moment. He opened his mouth, paused, then smiled, "Sure."

And so, Vincent led the way to the Chili’s just across the street from our school.

For me, the chicken wings at Chili’s were a delight, leaving me craving more. My fingers bore not only traces of oil but also crumbs, which I mindlessly licked.

Raising my gaze, I caught Vincent's deep, mesmerizing stare. It was a look I knew well, as if there were molten lava simmering in the depths, radiating a fiery warmth amid the darkness. In the past, that look often left me flustered, frightened, yearning to flee. But now...

"What are you staring at?"

He glanced at my still-greasy fingers, grabbed one, and reached for a tissue to wipe off the oil. "Don't lick your fingers in public, it's not polite."

I was caught off guard. Was he reprimanding me for l*****g my fingers just now? Had I misread his intentions? Acting on impulse, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. Then it dawned on me that he was holding my hand.

Considering we had just met, this guy had no reservations!

As the realization hit me, I swiftly withdrew my hand.

"I can handle it myself," I said uneasily, taking the tissue and lowering my head to clean my fingers.

Compared to his later overbearing and unreasonable conduct, the Vincent I encountered at this moment could indeed be seen as courteous, even refined. But I knew his true nature.

"I won't lay a hand on you, but listen up, Genevieve." He cornered me in a deserted section of the school, through gritted teeth. "As long as I'm around, don't even think about being with anyone else."

The other guy attended a nearby school, a frequent patron of Noah's establishment. He pursued me and followed me onto the school grounds. When Vincent caught sight of him, things turned violent.

The guy appeared sturdy, but whether he could withstand a blow from Vincent remained uncertain.

I was genuinely terrified of Vincent. Every time I spotted him from a distance, I would flee. He cornered me on a few occasions, effectively blocking my path. When he questioned my fear, I trembled, and only then did he realize my apprehension of physical harm.

He vowed never to raise a hand against a woman and reiterated his proposal for me to be his girlfriend.

Despite my fear of him and his pledge not to harm me physically, I still rejected him. Vincent nearly lost his temper, trapping me against the wall and issuing those chilling words. After that, no boy from VAU and SU dared to pursue me.

Vincent was a truly intimidating figure.

But...

I glanced up, finding Vincent smiling at me. His raised eyebrows and curved lips emitted that familiar air of confidence I recognized. His domineering, obsessive, and ruthless traits hadn't surfaced yet. I was well aware of his true nature, the fear he instilled in me. But could someone as violent as him seek revenge for me after my death? Could someone as obsessed as him, destroy himself for me? Wasn't that just wishful thinking?

"Are you from Albertville?" Vincent initiated the conversation, his smile warm. "I am too. My hometown is there, and we moved to the capital when my grandfather was around..."

"I noticed you have business classes in Building C on Tuesdays."

"The teacher who instructs you in market theory also taught us; we call him Big-Head Harris because of his big head."

My responses were curt.

"Yes."

"Oh."

"Okay."

My demeanor toward him was far colder than the initial politeness, courtesy, and hint of respect I exhibited in my previous life. Our first meal together in past life, was in the cafeteria. The complimentary porridge had been tainted; he had someone fetch a replacement and then engaged me in conversation. I was a freshman; he was a senior. I treated him with politeness, respect, and a touch of deference. Not like now, avoiding eye contact, my gaze fixed on the tabletop, eyelashes lowered.

Truthfully, I paid little attention to his words; he was merely attempting to find conversational topics with a girl. My mind, on the other hand, was preoccupied with thoughts of altering our fates. Continuously rejecting him had proven futile in past life, only fueling his persistent pursuit. He vanished off next year, bringing me a sense of relief only then.

A couple of months later, I leaped off the building. I had no knowledge of how long it took Vincent to exact revenge after my demise. My soul wandered, consciousness hazy, and the scenes I witnessed seemed like disjointed fragments of a dream, lacking coherence of time. Nonetheless, he departed from school. I perished, he returned, and sought retribution for me. His life was ruined, and in a haze of uncertainty, someone who appeared to be his adversary seized upon this opportunity, leading to his imprisonment.

A bullet ended his young life. Now, reborn, I vowed not to fall into that individual's trap again, ensuring my safety. Vincent need not face the death sentence for avenging me. But what lay ahead? I sighed involuntarily.

Sensing something awry, I raised my eyes to find Vincent leaning on the table, chin resting on his hand, a playful glint in his eyes. Seeing my gaze, he checked his watch and remarked, "Two minutes."

I was puzzled.

"I haven't spoken in two minutes. And you..." he arched an eyebrow. "In those two minutes, you've 'yeah-ed' twice, 'oh-ed' once, and even sighed?"

I fell silent, slightly lowering my head, and apologized, "Sorry..."

"What's on your mind?" Vincent brushed aside my rudeness, "Why the sigh?"

Of course, I wouldn't disclose to him that I was contemplating our future. I offered a feeble excuse, "Nothing, just ate too much, feeling a bit sleepy."

"I'm full." Glancing at the time, I suggested, "Otherwise..."

For relative strangers, this inquiry was somewhat impolite. Yet earlier, Vincent had endeavored to initiate conversation, only to be met with my spectacular daydreaming.

"I need to work. It's getting late; let's head back to school."

Vincent persisted, "Where do you work?"

I knew even if I didn't divulge it, he would soon uncover the truth and start frequenting Noah's café, occasionally intimidating Noah, leaving him shaken.

"Ambrosia," I replied, "It’s a Greek mythology-themed café."

Vincent

She responded promptly, and a wave of relief washed over me—this girl had been ignoring me too much, making me feel as uninteresting as a plate of greasy chicken wings.

"Oh. I'll check it out later." I turned my phone around, displaying the screen to Eve. "Do you recognize this person?"

Her attention shifted to the screen.

Displayed on the phone was a photo of a man with bruised cheeks, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, and a missing tooth. Tears and mucus streaked his face, conveying his agony and terror through his expression.

She immediately identified him; it was the creepy man from the bus yesterday.

Observing her reaction transition from indifferent to... solemn? This change intrigued me.

"I saw you confronting him on the bus yesterday," I explained, "Coincidentally, my car was right behind, so I got off and inquired about the situation, caught up with him, and gave him a warning. I've already cautioned him, so if you encounter him again, don't hesitate to call me."

Only after speaking did I realize she hadn't been afraid to begin with. In fact, she had even stabbed the creepy man's hand with a pen; I had seen the wound myself. My gaze involuntarily lingered on her.

Seemingly delicate, as if she could be carried away by a gust of wind, yet unexpectedly possessing a feisty demeanor.

"Why do you think it's okay to resort to violence?" she gritted her teeth, her expression steely. I raised an eyebrow.

"Why not involve the police? Why opt for violence to resolve issues?" I could see her anger rising, flames seemingly flickering in her dark eyes.

Her slender, delicate frame concealed an unexpected strength, poised to erupt at any moment.