Chapter Nineteen: Guilty But Not Guilty

Cara was still deeply immersed in her thoughts as she sat at her desk, scribbling in her diary. Her pen glided across the pages with a sense of urgency, trying to record every detail of the dream that had been haunting her since her therapy session. Her therapist, Jean, had told her that documenting her dreams was crucial to unlocking their hidden meanings, pushing her to be as thorough as possible. It wasn’t just a casual assignment; it was part of her journey to better understand herself, to untangle the threads of her subconscious mind. The idea of writing fiction about her own life felt strange, almost surreal, but Jean had explained that it was a way to externalize her feelings and memories in a creative form.

As Cara wrote, she revisited the dream she'd experienced during her last session. It had been vivid, unsettling, and oddly personal—like a puzzle she needed to solve. The images and symbols weren’t just random; they seemed to carry a deeper significance, like fragments of a memory she had long forgotten. She couldn’t quite make sense of it yet, but she could feel the weight of its meaning pressing against her mind. It was like her subconscious was trying to communicate something that her waking self was avoiding. She couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Lost in these reflections, she was abruptly snapped out of her thoughts when the professor entered the room, his presence commanding her attention. Cara quickly closed her diary, tucking it under her desk as he began his lecture. She shifted her focus to the material at hand, though her mind still wandered back to the dream. The lecture felt distant, like the words being spoken had little relevance in the context of the emotional turmoil she was processing. Her professor’s voice faded into the background as the images from her dream swirled in her mind.

The class finally ended, and Cara gathered her belongings. Her thoughts remained consumed by the dream. She needed a moment to collect herself before the next period, so she headed to the powder room. The quiet space allowed her a brief respite, but even as she touched up her makeup, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was tied to that dream.

When she finished in the restroom, Cara stepped back into the hallway, the noise of students moving between classes filling the air. As she walked toward her next class, the familiar rhythm of the campus seemed oddly comforting—until she heard footsteps behind her. She instinctively turned her head, only to lose her balance and stumble. In that moment of panic, she fell into the arms of someone she had only recently met—Vince.

For a fleeting moment, time seemed to slow, and Cara felt as though she were living in one of those rom-coms she sometimes watched for an easy escape. Vince’s strong hands caught her before she hit the ground, and she found herself staring into his warm, brown eyes. There was a split second where everything else around her ceased to exist, and she could only focus on him. It was cliché, yes, but it felt real—too real. In the back of her mind, she felt an odd connection to him, though she couldn’t explain it.

Vince immediately helped her up, his expression serious. "You should be more careful when you're walking, especially when someone else is heading in the same direction," he said, his voice calm but direct.

"Yeah, thanks," Cara replied, her voice barely above a whisper, the heat of embarrassment spreading across her face. She couldn’t help but replay the awkwardness in her mind, the way her paranoia had nearly made her trip.

Vince seemed unbothered, though. “I’m heading to our class, just so you know,” he added. “We’re in the same class, remember?”

Cara felt a bit confused by his bluntness. Did I offend him somehow? she wondered, but chose to ignore it, shrugging off the moment. She continued to walk toward the classroom, heading straight to the front row as usual, trying to keep her distance from him. But by the time she entered, the only empty seats were in the front, and Vince followed right behind her, sitting next to her without a word.

The class began, and Cara tried to focus, but her mind kept wandering back to the strange encounter.

Later, Vince couldn’t help but think back to his own childhood. He remembered his aunt's harsh words, “Forget your friends here, especially her.” It was strange how he couldn’t recall much of his past—his memories were like fragments, never fully coming together. But one thing stood out: his parents' tragic car accident, a memory that haunted him every day.

After his parents died, his aunt had taken him in, but it wasn’t a loving home. She resented the financial burden he represented and, in the end, he was adopted by a new family. His aunt’s words lingered in his mind: Forget your friends here…

It wasn’t until recently, when he returned to his old neighborhood, that something clicked. He saw a familiar face—Cara. Could she be one of his childhood friends? he wondered. He'd been trying to piece together his past, but Cara was a part of it he couldn’t quite remember.

His curiosity led him to follow her one morning, watching as she drove to school. He kept a distance but was aware of her every move. After her first period, he followed her again, and this time, she noticed him. But when she turned around to face him, she tripped and fell. Vince, acting on instinct, caught her before she hit the ground.

Trying to make light of the situation, he told her with a serious expression, "You should be more careful when you're walking. You never know who might be behind you."

"Yeah, thanks," she said again, a bit flustered.

Vince sat beside her in class, though he’d rather have kept his distance. He’d never been so unsure of his own feelings. Was he really following her, or was it something deeper, something he couldn’t explain?

At the start of the class, he leaned in, speaking quietly, “Hey, can I ask you something important later?”

Cara gave him a confused look. "What's so important that you can't ask me now?"

Vince hesitated but pressed on, "Do you really not remember what happened in the library?"

His question seemed to catch her attention. Her expression shifted, clearly intrigued by his inquiry. The moment they’d shared in the library had clearly left an impression on her, and now, Vince was determined to figure out why it mattered.