FATED SEATS

CHAPTER 5

ARA'S POV

The philosophy class was a blur of existential questions and abstract concepts that swirled around me, making my head spin. I barely registered the professor's words, my mind a chaotic jumble of anxieties and self-doubt.

Suddenly, a voice broke through my haze. "Psst… Ara?"

I blinked, startled, and turned to my left. A boy with familiar features and a hesitant smile was looking at me. He had warm brown eyes and a friendly face, but I couldn't place him.

"Do I… know you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

"It's zen," he said, his smile widening. "We were in the same class back in seventh and eighth grade. Remember?"

Zen… The name vaguely registered, but his face remained a blank slate in my memory. The pandemic era was a haze of online classes and social isolation. I barely remembered anyone from that time.

"Oh," I said, feeling a pang of guilt for not recognizing him. "Sorry. It's been a while."

"No worries," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's been ages. But I recognized you right away. You haven't changed much."

I doubted that. The girl he remembered from seventh grade was a distant memory, a naive and optimistic child who hadn't yet tasted the bitter sting of failure and disappointment.

ZEN’S POV

I spotted Ara Dela Cruz the first day of class. I remembered her from junior high , quiet, bookish, but with a certain captivating aura. She'd always been pretty, but now, there was a haunted beauty about her that drew me in.

I knew she wouldn't remember me. I'd been just another face in the crowd back then, easily forgotten. But I had been watching her, observing her from afar, and I saw the change in her. The light in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a sadness that intrigued me.

I'm going to play with her like how the others are playing. I thought.

"She's a broken toy, zen", said another classmate

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh, Gab?" I said, feigning disapproval. Inside, a cold excitement bubbled within me. Ara Dela Cruz, the untouchable, the mysterious, was now fair game. And I was going to be the one to unravel her.

Gab shrugged. "Whatever, man. Just saying, be careful. She's got a reputation for being… fragile."

"Fragile is interesting," I said, a predatory smile creeping onto my face. "It's a puzzle, isn't it? Figuring out how much pressure something can take before it shatters."

Gab raised an eyebrow, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. "Just don't say I didn't warn you. Messing with her might bring some bad karma."

I laughed, dismissing his concerns. "Karma? Please. I make my own luck."

As I watched Ara walk past us, her head down, her shoulders slumped, I felt a surge of anticipation. This was going to be fun. A twisted game of cat and mouse, with her as the unsuspecting prey.

'I'll be gentle at first,' I thought, crafting my strategy. 'Gain her trust, her confidence. Then, slowly, I'll start to chip away at her defenses, exposing her vulnerabilities, her weaknesses. And when she's completely broken, I'll leave her in shattered pieces, just like the rest of them.'

I felt a pang of guilt, a faint whisper of conscience, but I quickly silenced it. Ara was just a means to an end, a tool to satisfy my twisted desires. And I wouldn't let anything, or anyone, stand in my way.

The next day, I made my move. During philosophy class, I deliberately sat next to her, feigning surprise.

"Oh, hey Ara," I said, my voice dripping with false sincerity. "Didn't see you there."

She looked up, startled, her eyes widening slightly. "Hi, Zen," she mumbled, quickly averting her gaze.

"Mind if I sit here?" I asked, gesturing to the empty seat beside her. "All the other seats are taken."

She hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. "Whatever," she said, her voice barely audible.

I grinned inwardly, pleased with my progress. "So, how are you finding philosophy?" I asked, feigning interest. "Pretty heavy stuff, huh?"

She shrugged again. "It's okay," she said, her voice flat and disinterested.

I persisted, determined to break through her defenses. "I'm really struggling with the concept of existentialism," I said, feigning confusion. "Maybe you could help me understand it better? You always seemed so smart back in junior high."

She looked at me, a flicker of surprise in her eyes. "I doubt I can help," she said, her voice laced with skepticism.

"Come on, don't be like that," I said, leaning closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm really desperate. Plus, it would be a good way for us to reconnect. We haven't talked in ages."

She hesitated, then sighed. "Fine," she said reluctantly. "But don't expect me to do all the work."

I grinned, my plan falling into place. "Deal," I said, extending my hand. "Friends?"

She looked at my hand for a moment, then shook it hesitantly. "Friends," she said softly.