The rain had a rhythm that evening — soft, steady, like it had a story of its own. At the café on the corner of Bluegate Street, the kind with fairy lights and old music humming in the background, Zarah sat alone at her favorite window seat, sipping a vanilla latte. She wasn’t waiting for anyone. She rarely was.

Zarah had learned how to keep her heart guarded. At twenty-one, she had survived too many promises that broke too easily and friendships that turned cold. But she smiled anyway — a quiet, mysterious smile that made people wonder what she was hiding.

She liked it that way.

Then he walked in.

Tall, soaked from the rain, and wrapped in a black hoodie, the stranger looked around as if he didn’t belong anywhere — and didn't care. Their eyes met for barely two seconds, but it was enough. His eyes were a storm — gray, unreadable, dangerous. And something in her chest fluttered.

He walked past without a word, but not without leaving something behind: curiosity.

Zarah turned back to her coffee, pretending she hadn’t just built a whole fantasy in her mind. But before the day was over, that stranger — Rayen — would no longer be a stranger.

The Next Day

“Zarah, you need to live a little,” her best friend Amira laughed, bumping her shoulder as they walked to their university lecture hall. “You’ve been so... serious lately.”

“I’m not serious,” Zarah said with a smirk. “I just don’t have time for fairy tales.”

Amira raised a brow. “Says the girl who spends all day at a fairy-light café.”

They both laughed, but deep inside, Zarah knew something had shifted last night.

And that something showed up again.

Rayen. At her university.

Standing by the art studio, headphones in, sketchbook open, and somehow even more mysterious than before.

Their eyes met again. He smiled this time — but it wasn’t warm. It was like he knew her, like he was warning her.

She ignored the shiver that ran down her spine.

Meanwhile…

In another part of campus, someone else had his eyes on Zarah. Daniel, her coursemate — charming, funny, the kind of guy everyone liked. Unlike Rayen, Daniel made people feel safe. He made Zarah laugh. He showed up with coffee when she was tired. He remembered small things, like how she hated pickles on burgers and loved the scent of fresh books.

And most importantly, he was already falling for her.

But love triangles are never simple. Especially when one of them is hiding a past...

And the other is hiding a motive.

And Amira? Her “best friend forever”?

She’s hiding the deepest betrayal of all.

Zarah couldn’t sleep.

The message from the unknown number replayed in her mind like a haunting melody. "You shouldn’t trust everyone you smile with… Especially not your best friend."

She stared at the ceiling, eyes wide, thoughts tangled.

Could Amira really be hiding something?

They had been friends since their first year. Laughed together, cried over heartbreaks, shared secrets. But that glance — that quiet exchange between Amira and Rayen — wasn’t nothing. It was too familiar. Too hidden.

Zarah needed answers.

The Next Morning

Campus buzzed with the usual chaos: students rushing, lecturers arriving late, couples whispering under trees. Zarah walked toward the studio building, a plan forming in her head.

If Rayen was hiding something — she’d find out.

She walked in casually, pretending not to notice him sketching alone again, headphones on. His eyes flicked up as she passed. She paused, turned back.

“Hey,” she said softly.

He blinked, surprised. “Hi.”

“You’re in my Art Theory class, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah. And you like vanilla lattes.”

Zarah froze slightly. “Excuse me?”

Rayen’s lips curled faintly. “You go to Echo Café. Same order. Every time.”

There was silence for a moment too long.

“You’ve been watching me?”

He leaned back. “You’ve been watching me too.”

Touché.

Zarah hesitated, then said it: “Why were you talking to Amira?”

Rayen didn’t answer at first. Then:

“She didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

But he stood, zipped his hoodie, and walked out, leaving a single word in the air:

“Ask her.”

That Evening – Confrontation

Zarah met Amira in their favorite spot behind the library — a quiet garden with a single wooden bench. Amira came smiling, sipping bubble tea like nothing had changed.

“Amira,” Zarah said slowly, “how do you know Rayen?”

Amira blinked. “What?”

“You heard me.”

She looked away for a second too long. “He’s... just someone I used to know.”

“You never mentioned him.”

“I didn’t think it mattered,” Amira said too quickly. “Zarah, you’re overthinking—”

“Am I?” Zarah interrupted. “Because someone texted me. Said not to trust you.”

Amira's face went pale.

“Who?” she demanded.

“I don’t know. But why would they say that? What are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!” Amira snapped. Then, quieter, “Okay... I used to like him. Last year. It was nothing. He ghosted me. End of story.”

Zarah searched her face.

“I swear, Zar. I wouldn’t hurt you. You’re my best friend.”

But something in her voice didn’t match her eyes.

Later That Night

Zarah sat on her bed, going through her messages again, trying to trace the number. Nothing.

Then, a new message.

Unknown Number:

> “She lied.”

> “He ghosted her because she lied to him first.”

Zarah’s heart pounded.

Another text came.

> “Check her locker. Bottom shelf. Behind the notebooks.”