Chapter 3
The sound of metal clanging against metal resonated throughout the shop, punctuated by the low hum of the engine Vi was working on. Her movements were practiced, each turn of her wrench smooth and precise, as though she could dismantle and rebuild any car in her sleep. The grease smeared across her fair skin didn't diminish her presence—it only made her look more at home in this world of grime and mechanics. There was something undeniably magnetic about her, her pink cropped hair a sharp contrast to the harsh environment of the garage. She didn't belong to the polished, pristine world you were used to, but somehow, that only made her more fascinating.
You shifted uncomfortably in the corner of the shop, sitting on a rusted metal chair that creaked under your weight. The silence between you both had been heavy at first, broken only by the sound of Vi working on your car, the occasional clink of a tool dropped, and the soft hiss of the engine as she examined it. You were still trying to make sense of everything—your breakdown, the tow to this rundown part of the city, and the gruff, strong woman who had taken the reins of your car with such confidence.
Vi didn't look up from her work, her hands steady as she tightened a bolt on the engine. "what about you?" Vi asked, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, smudging a streak of dirt across her forehead. "You're not exactly a mechanic. What's someone like you doing in a place like this?"
You hesitated, caught off guard by the directness of her question. You had never been one to open up to strangers, especially not about the things that made you different from the world around you. But there was something in the way Vi looked at you—her fierce eyes, soft but intense—that made you feel like she wasn't judging, just curious.
"I'm from a rich family," you said, finally breaking the silence, your voice quiet but steady. "Everything's always been taken care of for me. I never really had to learn how to do anything myself." You glanced down at your hands, still unsure of how to explain the privilege you had grown up with. "I guess you could say I've always been sheltered. I don't know what it's like to struggle the way you do."
Vi's expression softened for a fraction of a second, as though she understood something unspoken between you, before her usual tough demeanor returned. She straightened up, wiping her hands on her already stained shirt, and gave you a lopsided grin.
"Must be nice," she said dryly, "not having to worry about where your next meal's coming from or whether you can afford to fix your car." She didn't sound bitter; instead, there was a note of something far more practical in her tone. "But hey, I'm not gonna judge. It's not like I chose to grow up here, either."
You blinked, a little surprised by her honesty. Vi didn't seem angry or resentful of your background—just matter-of-fact. It made you rethink your assumptions about her. You'd thought that someone like her would resent people like you, people who had everything handed to them without having to fight for it. But there was none of that in Vi's words, just a quiet understanding that life wasn't always fair.
"Do you ever wish things were different?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.
Vi's hands froze for a moment, and she glanced at you, her gaze sharper now, more focused. She didn't seem offended, just considering the question carefully.
"I don't know," she said slowly, her voice quieter this time. "Maybe. But wishing for something different doesn't change anything." She gave a half shrug, her shoulders rolling with the motion. "I've got what I've got, and I'm not gonna sit around and cry about it. Things could be worse. At least I get to work with my hands. Some people don't even have that."
There was something profoundly real in the way she spoke—like she had learned long ago that life wasn't about dreaming of a different future, but about making the best out of the one you had. And as much as her words were a reflection of her strength, they were also a window into the vulnerability she rarely showed. You saw it in the way she carried herself—strong and unyielding, but with a softness beneath that strength.
You sat there for a moment, thinking about what she had said. There was no self-pity in her voice, no bitterness, just acceptance. And that realization hit you harder than you expected. Vi had fought for everything she had, while you had simply been given your world on a silver platter.
"So, how do you do it?" you asked, more to yourself than to her. "How do you keep going when everything seems so... hard?"
Vi stopped working for a moment, considering your question. Then, she gave you one of her half-smirks, the kind that made her look both tough and approachable at the same time.
"You just keep going, that's all. No one's gonna fix things for you, so you have to fix them yourself. No one's gonna hand you a happy ending." She stood up and wiped her hands on a rag. "But you do what you can. That's what keeps you going."
Her words stuck with you long after she returned to her work. There was something about the way she carried herself—the way she faced every challenge with determination and confidence—that made you feel like maybe you had a lot to learn from her. You had always relied on other people to solve your problems, but Vi didn't have that luxury. She had learned to fight for herself, and it made her stronger, more resilient than anyone you knew.
The conversation lulled for a few moments, the only sounds in the shop coming from Vi's work. But now, instead of feeling like a stranger in her world, you felt oddly at ease. Vi's brashness no longer felt like a barrier—it felt like a challenge, one that you were curious to meet. There was something about her that made you want to peel back the layers, to understand what drove her, what made her tick.
And though you had only known her for a few hours, you couldn't deny that there was a spark between you—something you couldn't quite name yet, but something undeniably real.
You shifted in your seat, glancing at the clock on the wall. "How much longer do you think this will take?" you asked, hoping to make conversation again.
Vi's eyes flicked over to you, and for a moment, she seemed to hesitate, almost like she was considering something. Then, she smiled—the smile of someone who knew exactly what they were doing, even if they didn't always show it.
"Maybe a couple more hours. You're welcome to hang around if you want."
For a brief moment, your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but feel that, despite the awkwardness of the situation, despite the stark differences in your worlds, this was only the beginning of something far more intriguing. Something you were both just starting to discover.