The next morning, Vince slipped out of the house like a thief. Every step was calculated—avoiding the kitchen where his mom usually sat, ducking past the hallway to avoid his sister, who for some reason was still at the family house instead of with her fiancé.
He didn't want to deal with questions. Not with his face looking like this.
By the time he made it to the school gates, the air was already heavy.
Dozens of eyes turned his way. Whispers rippled through the crowd.
Everyone could see the bruises—his split lip, the swelling around his cheek.
To most, Vince was a contradiction. The rich, privileged kid who looked like a delinquent. But for those who had actually spoken to him, or worked alongside him during school events or fundraisers, they knew better. Vince was the first to roll up his sleeves, the first to help without being asked.
Still, bruises had a way of shaping narratives.
"Vince!"
Dale jogged up, his own cheek still purple from the fight. The stares followed him too, but he seemed unbothered.
Vince smirked. "Hey. Did your dad give you hell for showing up like that?"
Dale shook his head, adjusting the strap of his bag. "You know my old man doesn't care what I do."
Vince chuckled. "Figures. For a book nerd, those scars weirdly suit you."
Dale rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. And what about you? Your mom notice?"
Vince pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head.
"Not a word," he said under his breath. "Let's keep it that way."
"Ah, so she doesn't know," Dale said, nodding as they walked. "Honestly, that's probably better. Knowing your mom, she'd lose it."
Vince gave a dry laugh but said nothing.
Dale's tone grew serious. "About Darian... he's not gonna let this go."
"I know," Vince replied, his eyes darkening. "I still haven't forgotten what he did to Karina. And now he's suddenly clinging to Vanessa."
"Yeah. Same here," Dale muttered.
They stepped through the school gates, the buzz of chatter following them into the hallway. After a bit more talk, the two split off to their separate classrooms.
For Vince, it was the first time in a while he didn't head straight to the art room to see Vanessa. Instead, he dragged himself through classes, face throbbing with every hour that passed.
By third period's end, he was gathering his books when a classmate leaned against his desk.
"Hey, Vince. There's a girl waiting for you outside."
Vince didn't think much of it. Probably Karina—she must've heard from Dale or Theo about his injuries.
But the moment he stepped into the hall, he froze.
It wasn't Karina.
It was Vanessa.
Her blonde hair caught the light from the windows, but what struck him most was her expression—her brows furrowed, her lips pressed tight with concern.
"Vanessa... you're the one here?" Vince asked, his voice carrying a hint of surprise.
She didn't answer. Instead, she stepped closer, her hands reaching up to gently trace the bruises on his cheek and jaw.
Vince could already see it in her eyes—the guilt. She blamed herself. She probably had all night.
And though the pain was sharp where her fingers brushed his skin, Vince found himself smiling faintly.
Because in that moment, her concern for him meant more than the bruises ever could.
Vince caught Vanessa's hands gently, holding them still against his bruised face.
"Hey, I'm fine. Don't blame yourself for this. I was the one who threw the first punch."
Her voice was quiet but heavy.
"But I was the cause of it."
Before he could respond, another voice cut in—sharp, familiar, and laced with irritation.
"What are you two doing?"
They turned. Karina was standing there, arms crossed, her expression tight with anger. She stepped forward and, without hesitation, shoved herself between them.
"Karina—what are you—?" Vince started, but she ignored him.
Instead, she grabbed his shoulders and began fussing over him, eyes darting over his injuries as if she were inspecting battle damage.
"You're hurt all over—look at you!" she snapped.
Vince winced, jerking back slightly.
"Ow—stop! That hurts."
"But you're injured!" she shot back, raising her voice.
Their back-and-forth drew stares from students walking by.
"What's going on over there?" one whispered.
"Isn't that Vince? And... Vanessa? And Karina?" another murmured.
The hallway buzzed with curiosity.
Vince sighed heavily, stepping back.
"I said I'm fine. Vanessa—I'll see you at lunch."
Without waiting for either girl to respond, he turned and walked off, leaving the two behind.
Karina's eyes snapped toward Vanessa, sharp as knives.
"You! Did something happen?"
Vanessa met her glare with a calm, flat tone.
"It doesn't concern you."
She pivoted on her heel and walked away in the opposite direction, her hair swaying behind her.
Karina clenched her fists, hissing under her breath.
"Tch... these two."
But beneath her frustration burned something harsher—fear that she was losing Vince.