Max’s POV

Okay. Something is definitely off.

I walk into the bookstore like I always do—nearly knock over a display (classic me), flash my signature grin (10/10 charming), and yet… nobody reacts.

Nobody scolds me. Nobody groans. Nobody even breathes right.

And that? That’s weird.

Instead—

Amina looks like she’s seen a ghost (or worse—her exam results).

Sophie is scanning the room like she’s five steps ahead of a murder investigation.

Rayhan has that face—the one where he’s either plotting a crime or solving one.

And Elias?

Oh, Elias is still. Too still. And that is never, ever good.

So, naturally, I do what I do best.

I open my big, beautiful mouth.

"Uh… Did I miss something?"

Silence.

I blink.

Okaaay, that’s not normal.

I might be a walking disaster, but I notice things.

People think I don’t. That’s their first mistake.

Like how—

Amina’s fingers are gripping something like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. A letter? A note? Bad news, whatever it is.

Rayhan is standing too close. He plays it cool, but I see the tension in his stance, like he’s seconds away from—what? Burning this whole place down?

Sophie isn’t just watching. She’s tracking. Reading everyone’s movements like a puzzle, her sharp gaze flicking between us like she’s piecing something together.

And Elias?

Elias hasn’t moved.

Elias is always moving. Scribbling. Tapping. Observing. Not today.

That? That makes my stomach twist.

So, I push again. Casual. Light. A joke, because that’s what I do.

"Okay, so no one’s gonna answer me? Cool, cool, very mysterious, love the vibe, but I’m getting some horror movie tension here, and I don’t like it."

Amina shifts uncomfortably. Sophie sighs.

"We found a letter."

A letter. A freaking letter.

I frown. Why are we acting like someone just died over a piece of paper?

"Right. And this is… bad?"

Amina shoves it into my hands.

Okay, rude.

I glance down. The handwriting is neat. Precise. Familiar in a way that makes the back of my skull itch.

And then—

I read the words.

You don’t know who to trust.

Okaaaaaay. That’s… dramatic.

I open my mouth to joke, because that’s my thing, but—

My brain won’t let me.

Something about the handwriting feels wrong.

Not just wrong. Familiar.

Like a song I’ve heard before but can’t place.

Like a memory that isn’t mine.

And suddenly—

The bookstore isn’t the same anymore.

The shelves seem taller. The light is too dim. The air is too thick.

I scan the room again.

They’re waiting. Watching.

They think I don’t know what’s happening.

And… okay. Fair. I don’t.

But I do know one thing.

That letter?

It wasn’t meant for Amina.

It was meant for me.

A whisper of sound.

A flicker of movement.

A shadow shifts—where there shouldn’t be one.

My pulse jumps. I glance up, sharp—but there’s nothing.

The bookstore is quiet. Too quiet.

My fingers tighten around the letter.

I blink.

The ink is—

Smudging.

No. Not smudging.

Moving.

The letters twist, shift, slither across the page.

I stare, unblinking.

The message changes.

"You were always meant to find this."

My stomach drops.

Something in the air cracks, like the space around me just tilted.

I drop the letter like it’s burned me.

The ink still moves.

And then—

I hear it.

A sound so light, so close, so quiet—

A laugh.

And it isn’t mine.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***