Aira didn't sleep.
The screenshot of Revan's chat haunted her—every word replaying like an echo she couldn't silence.
Was it real?
Was it edited?
And most of all… who the hell was Naila?
---
The next morning, Aira went full detective mode.
She skipped first class. Sat in the library alone. And hacked into the student portal using a trick her brother taught her.
She searched the name.
Naila Rahmadani.
Class 11-C. Transfer student. Zero social media. No photos. No record of extracurriculars.
Ghost.
Aira frowned. It didn't make sense.
She looked around the library, fingers tapping restlessly on the table.
Someone was watching. She could feel it.
Aira stood up, turned—and saw him.
Revan.
He looked… tired. Dark circles under his eyes. Jaw clenched.
"You didn't reply," she said coldly.
"I was dealing with something."
"Like your chat with Naila?"
He froze.
Then—
"That's not what you think."
She crossed her arms. "Then explain."
"She's my cousin."
Aira blinked.
"What?"
"She's been helping me trace the stalker. She's good with tech. We've been trying to catch whoever's messing with us."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because I didn't want you dragged deeper. Because I thought I could handle it myself."
His voice cracked. For the first time, he looked… real. Vulnerable.
But Aira wasn't sure anymore.
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I expect you to trust me."
She hesitated.
Then slowly, she pulled out her phone.
"Then help me trace this."
She showed him the message. The screenshot. The number.
He stared at it. Then nodded.
"Give me 24 hours."
---
That night, Aira received a new message.
> You're not supposed to look deeper, Aira.
Attached: A photo.
It was taken seconds ago.
Of her.
Standing at her window.
Inside her room.
She dropped the phone, heart racing, eyes darting to the window behind her.
No one.
Just the curtain blowing.
She stepped back.
Then froze.
On her desk, a note.
Not there before.
Written in red marker.
> Stop. Or next time, it won't just be a photo.