Chapter 3 Unfortunate to Meet Him Again

Helena POV - Few days later

When the commercial bus stopped in front of a snacks store, I hurriedly got off to grab a piece of hamburger. After paying the seller, I started enjoying my quick snack. Amidst the sounds of the bustling street, I suddenly heard yells that drew my attention. Curious, I turned to check what was happening.

Across the road, I witnessed a disturbing scene: a man, his back facing my direction, was berating an old man. Concerned, I realized the situation was serious. Without a second thought, I rushed to the other side of the road to intervene and prevent any harm to the elderly man.

"Let him go!" I exclaimed as I positioned myself between the aggressor and the old man, forcefully pulling the latter out of the man's grip. As I did so, I caught a clear view of the impolite young man's face. It was the same guy I had bumped into a few days ago at the mall – the arrogant Grumpy rabbit.

Recognizing me, he uttered, "So it's you again," with a smirk.

"Yes, it's me. How dare you do this to an old man?! Didn't your momma teach you manners, huh?!" I bellowed at him.

"Stay out of this; this is none of your business," he scoffed. "This old worthless fool damaged my car's headlight, and to top it all, he gave my car a scratch."

"Dear, it was a mistake," the old man interjected with a faint voice, tears in his eyes. "I was in a haste to see my wife. She is waiting for immediate treatment in the hospital, that's why I was rushing there to pay the required fee for her treatment."

"To hell with your wife!" He scoffed callously.

Enraged by his heartless response, I retorted, "You have no compassion, no decency. How can you be so heartless to someone in need? Your car can be fixed, but the pain you're causing this man is irreparable."

I stood my ground, a fiery determination burning in my eyes.

"You seem to enjoy giving people a dose of their own medicine, huh?" he taunted, a smirk playing on his face.

I shot back, unyielding, "Maybe you need a taste of your own arrogance to understand how it feels."

He scoffed, "Arrogance? This is reality, sweetheart. No one cares about some old man's sob story. It's a dog-eat-dog world."

Unfazed, I retorted, "Well, I care. And if being compassionate is considered a weakness, then I'd rather be weak."

Our heated exchange caught the attention of passers-by, who slowed down to witness the unfolding confrontation. The busy street seemed to hush as the clash of principles echoed between us.

He, with a dismissive laugh, said, "Look around, no one else cares. You can't change the world with your bleeding heart."

I stood firm, "Maybe not the world, but I can change this moment for him."

"Your bleeding heart won't change a thing," he retorted, his tone growing more hostile.

"Maybe not, but at least I'm not heartless like you!" I shot back, my determination undeterred.

He sneered, "Heartless? In this world, you either win or lose. I choose to win."

I shook my head, "There's more to life than just winning. What's the point if you trample on others in the process?"

His eyes flashed with anger, "You think you're making a difference? You're just a naive girl with unrealistic ideals."

"I'd rather be naive than a heartless cynic," I replied, pushing back against his harsh words.

He, seething with rage, said, "You're infuriating. I can't stand people like you."

"Maybe because deep down, you know there's truth in what I'm saying," I retorted, fully aware that I was enraging him.

The intensity of our argument escalated, drawing more attention from the growing crowd of onlookers. Passers-by slowed down, their curiosity piqued by the clash between two opposing ideologies on a seemingly ordinary street.

"I care less about you or this old man," he declared coldly. "He will pay for the damages, or I will call the police."

I felt a surge of pity for the old man, who stood beside me, helpless in the face of the escalating situation. "You can't be serious about involving the police over a scratched car," I urged him.

He, unmoved, insisted, "It's not just about the car. It's about respect. He needs to learn a lesson."

The old man, looking distraught, began to plead, "Please, sir, I didn't mean any harm. I'm struggling to cover my wife's medical expenses. I'll find a way to repay you, just spare me the police."

Ignoring the old man's pleas, he remained resolute, "No excuses. He will pay."

Frustration and sympathy clashed within me. "Have some compassion! This man is struggling, and you want to make it worse for him?"

He, unyielding, replied, "Compassion won't fix my car. Money will."

As the standoff continued, the onlookers, now fully engaged in the drama, observed the clash of principles and the plea of an elderly man caught in the crossfire of a relentless pursuit of justice. The scene unfolded, a complex interplay of emotions and values on a busy street where humanity clashed with cold pragmatism.

"Hey, he said it was a mistake. Don't you get it? He was in a rush!" I said furiously.

"It's none of your business. All I know is that this man is not leaving here until he pays for the damage," he said, unwavering.

"Please, sir, let me go and see my wife; you can take my car."

"Your car? Is this a car?" he rhetorically asked with a sneer. "Even if I sell this crap of a thing you call a car, it will not get me up to 100 cents. It's totally crap..."

"Then let it be," I cut in sharply, turning to the old man. "Go, I'll pay for the damage." The old man thanked me gratefully and drove off. I faced the jerk, catching him staring at me with a mocking smile.

"So, how are you going to pay for the damage, Mother Teresa?" he taunted.

"Well, you're a rich guy, so just turn a blind eye over it."

"Oh, look at her. You mean I should turn a blind eye to my headlight being broken, huh? And you let the stupid old man go without paying me like you're a super-rich icon, right?!"

"You know, God values humanity, and you..."

"Oh, cut the crap and give me my money! Right now, you acted like you were a heroine in a sci-fi convention, but should I tell you something? You should have played better. I knew that you had no money, and your efforts to conceal that were so ill-conceived."

"Hey, just hold it! How much does it cost for the damage?"

"Well, to repair this and polish my car, I would cut you some slack for your unappreciated bravery, so just give a thousand bucks and nothing less. So, do you have it?"

"What! So much? Honestly, I don't have that cash..."

"Then follow me," he said, grabbing my arm and pushing me into his car. He quickly entered and drove off, leaving me bewildered and uncertain about what awaited me next in this unexpected turn of events.