Destiny has left its mark (Vampire Romance) (Completed)

20 ~ Faded

"You should forgive," Neo says, sitting next to me on the rock we found in this secluded spot.

 "Otherwise, you will always be a threat. And believe me, they don't like threats."

I can't help but respond, "A reject goes through the same good or bad experiences during their lifetimes. How can I not feel threatened by that?"

"You're not a reject, Daniella. You are an immortal because you have magic," he explains, his tone steady and reassuring.

Oh. I totally didn't think of that. It's a perspective I hadn't considered before, and it makes me feel a little lighter.

Neo continues, "You are not cursed. You can choose what happens to you now." His words hang in the air, and I let them sink in.

It's nice sitting where we are, in this secluded spot away from everyone else. The tranquillity of our surroundings gives me a moment to reflect. "The world has changed so much since Charlotte met you," I say, having had more visions that allow me to clearly see the differences in how things used to be.

"Can't argue with you on that," he replies, jumping up to a tree nearby and looking out over the landscape. "Do you remember Charlotte's nemesis?" I hear him even though I can't see him from my position.

Charlotte's nemesis? The question sparks something in my mind.

Neo jumps down from the tree again, landing right next to me as I stand up to face him. "Her niece was envious of her, even tried to ruin Charlotte's father's business. Her father was just as bad," he explains, his expression serious.

A name suddenly pops into my head. "Mary?" I ask, and a vision of a woman flashes through my mind, her face familiar yet distant.

"Yes," he confirms with a smile. "I was there the day Mary tried to make everyone believe that the dress she bought from one of your stores was ripped. A few friends gathered by her side outside, and the manager rushed out after he heard the small crowd yelling that the material they used ripped easily. Charlotte followed her father out, and that was when I first saw her." I can hear the fondness in his voice as he speaks about Charlotte, the memories clearly cherished.

"Wasn't there ever someone else? You keep mentioning Charlotte," I ask, my fingers playing nervously with the fabric of my clothes.

"Of course there were others," he replies, his tone casual but his eyes reflecting something deeper.

"Will you tell me?" I ask, intrigued by the man next to me who has lived for a very long time and seen so much.

He begins to tell me about the various women he met during his exploring dates after he left because of Charlotte. His words transport me to those moments that should have made him happy, but as he recounts his experiences, I can't help but think that Charlotte was always the one he truly loved. 

Finally, when he falls silent, I break the quiet. "None of them made you truly happy, did they?"

"Yeah," he admits after a short pause, his gaze distant. "Do you have feelings for my brother?"

That question brings a flood of memories back to me—memories of Charlotte and Elijah, even ones I never remembered until that very moment.

"Of course you do," he answers himself, reading me like an open book.

"Correct," I say, looking up into the dark skies above us, the stars twinkling beautifully against the backdrop of night. "But I'm not making the same mistake as Charlotte did."

"What do you mean by that?" he asks, his curiosity piqued.

"I will not get involved with him," I declare firmly, feeling a sense of resolve.