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.”
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