Fate in Shadows

Rain pelted the windshield in staccato bursts, the world outside reduced to a blur of wet lights and shadows. Vic sat still, watching the house across the street, his gaze unflinching. It was late, the kind of hour where every corner of the world felt empty, but he knew she'd be here soon. The same routine.

He was right.

A car pulled into the driveway, headlights cutting through the night. She stepped out, heels clutched in one hand, the dampness of her hair clinging to her neck. The rain had softened, just enough to let her voice slip through the crack of his window.

"You're… Vic, right?"

He nodded. The same calculated, practiced movement. "Yeah. I was with Maya the night of the crash."

A pause. She adjusted the strap of her bag, eyes narrowing as she tried to place him, the recognition slow but inevitable. "God. Thank you. You don't know how much that means to me."

He offered a smile—half-smirk, half something more elusive. "She's lucky to have a mother like you."

Her smile was tired, but it softened the lines of her face. "I'm just glad she's alive."

Vic didn't answer right away. He simply watched her for a moment, taking her in. She doesn't know what she's walking into, he thought. Doesn't know the game has already started.

The next time he saw her, it was at the store. Then again, a week later, on the path she walked every Friday. He wasn't following her, not exactly. But he made sure to always be there—at the dry cleaner, at the café. Never too close. Always just a little further than she could see, but enough to make her notice.

At first, she was confused. But then she began to smile back, almost without thinking.

"You again?" she said one morning, balancing her coffee and keys in one hand.

He smirked, taking in the soft curve of her lips. "Maybe it's fate."

And just like that, it wasn't. It wasn't fate. It was a plan, and every meeting was just another thread being pulled. Maya's mother didn't realize she was being woven into something darker, something Vic had set in motion long before they'd even met.

Back at home, Maya sat still on the edge of her bed, the sheets cool against her skin. The door remained closed, as it always did these days. Her mother was present, but her presence felt like a shadow—a cold, silent thing that never seemed to reach Maya anymore.

There were meals shared, but no words. No warmth. Just the sound of forks scraping plates and the hollow echoes of their shared space. Maya could feel her mother's eyes on her sometimes, but it was nothing like it used to be. They didn't even fight anymore. Just silence. And that was worse.

Maya didn't trust silence anymore.

When Eddie picked her up the next day for school, she didn't say much. Just slid into the passenger seat and let the engine hum. Eddie shot her a look, brows furrowing, but he didn't press. He knew better by now. Still, he waited. Always waiting for her to break the silence.

"He's going to show up today," Maya said, her voice flat.

Eddie didn't look surprised. "I know."

And Vic did.

He stepped into the school like he belonged there—like he had a right to be in every room, to slide into every conversation. Shirt crisp, hair neat, that same old glint in his eyes. Zeke froze when he saw him. Sally reached for Luna's arm, gripping it tighter.

Maya froze too, but for a different reason. She couldn't look away, couldn't stop the tightness in her chest as Vic scanned the hallway, eyes landing on her. It was like nothing had happened. Like the crash, the threats, none of it mattered.

Eddie was the first to move. He stepped forward, a quiet growl in his chest, but Vic raised a hand, a slow gesture that stopped him.

"Just wanted to talk," Vic said, his voice casual.

Students circled around them, whispers crackling through the air like static.

Maya didn't blink. "Stay the hell away from me."

Vic tilted his head. "Is that any way to talk to someone who saved you?"

Maya didn't flinch, didn't let the words have their effect. "You didn't save me. You tried to kill us."

A ripple of gasps moved through the crowd. Murmurs spread like wildfire. Jackie pushed through, striding into the circle like she owned the place.

"Wow." Her voice rang out, sweet and venomous. "Really? You're blaming him? The guy who risked his life for you?"

Maya didn't take her eyes off Vic. "He staged the whole thing."

Jackie's laugh was sharp, cruel. "You're unbelievable."

Vic didn't argue. He just stood there, taking the blows like he was above them, like none of this mattered. "I guess people see what they want to see," he said, his gaze never leaving Maya's.

Eddie was about to move again, but Sally grabbed his arm, Zeke stepped forward, and the moment passed. The crowd was too loud to hear the truth. Too blind to see.

Vic turned, walking away with that same swagger, and Jackie followed. But behind the gym, away from the crowds, Vic stopped. Jackie wasn't laughing anymore.

"You were amazing," she breathed, voice soft, as if this was all just part of a game.

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her toward him with an unsettling force. His fingers tightened around her throat.

"You ruined everything," he hissed, eyes narrowing. "Your pathetic plans made her hate me more."

Her breath hitched. She tried to speak, but nothing came out. His grip was tight, suffocating.

"All your games, Jackie," he continued, his voice low, deadly calm. "Your little jealous stunts. And now she's with him. Because of you."

She struggled against him, but he didn't relent. His fingers dug deeper.

"You wanted to help?" He let his words hang in the air. "Then stay the hell away from me."

He released her with a shove, and she crumpled to the ground, gasping for breath. Tears streaked her face, mascara running. She didn't look at him as he walked away, didn't try to stop him. He didn't wait for her to recover. He didn't care.

The following weeks blurred into each other. Every meeting with Maya's mother felt like a step closer, a deeper entanglement. Vic was always there, always just a little closer than he needed to be. The moments were subtle, each one leaving a lingering taste of unease in her mouth.

Maya knew something was wrong. She could feel it. The air between her and her mother was heavier than ever. She was slipping away, and she didn't know why. Or maybe she did, but she wasn't ready to admit it.

Every time Vic appeared, it was like a clock ticking louder. Every word spoken, every glance exchanged, built a slow, dark crescendo.

Maya was sure of one thing. This wasn't over.