The rain had stopped, but the night air in Pune felt heavier than ever. Tina sat on her bed, laptop open, but her focus was scattered. The glow of her code editor was supposed to be calming—numbers, functions, logic. Things that made sense.
But her world was unraveling.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
"I warned you. Some memories never stay buried. Maybe everyone should see the real Tina Rathod."
Attached was a compressed file. Against her better judgment, she opened it.
Her breath caught. The images that loaded were horrifying.
Photos from her old school days—her face, her hair—edited onto someone else's bare body. The work was crude but believable enough to spread like wildfire if it got out.
Tina's stomach twisted.
Her hands shook so badly that the phone slipped from her grip.
Another message followed:
"Tell Ishaan to keep his distance. Or these go public."
She pressed the phone to her chest, as if she could crush the shame out of it. But the tears came anyway—hot, angry, helpless tears.
---
"Hey, are you okay?" Mira's voice startled her. She had just walked in, balancing a packet of chips and two cups of coffee.
Tina quickly wiped her face. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not." Mira set everything aside and knelt in front of her. "Tina, talk to me."
Wordlessly, Tina handed over the phone.
Mira's jaw dropped as she scrolled through the messages. "Oh my god. These are fake. Anyone can see these are edited. This is disgusting."
"It won't matter if they go public," Tina whispered. "People will believe what they want to believe. They always did."
Mira's face darkened with anger. "Dev. It has to be him. I'll—"
"No!" Tina grabbed her hand. "We can't go to anyone yet. I… I can't let this destroy everything. Not before the hackathon."
---
The Next Morning
Tina barely spoke during their walk to the innovation lab. Her shoulders were tight, her gaze locked on the pavement. Ishaan noticed immediately.
"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, falling in step with her.
"Nothing," she muttered.
"Liar," he said gently. "You look like you've been fighting a war."
She stopped, forcing a weak laugh. "What if I told you to stay away from me? For your own good?"
Ishaan frowned. "I'd say no. Why would I leave you when you need someone most?"
She looked at him then, really looked—and the weight of his steady eyes nearly undid her. "Because they'll try to hurt you through me. They already are."
"'They?'" His voice sharpened. "What happened, Tina?"
But she couldn't tell him. Not yet. If she said it out loud, it would feel too real.
---
During the hackathon's final prep, Riya made her move. She strolled over, dressed like she was attending a fashion show, and leaned casually against their table.
"You look tired, Tina," she said with a smile that could cut glass. "Big night? I heard… interesting things about you."
Tina's fingers froze on the keyboard.
"Don't," Ishaan warned, stepping between them.
Riya's smirk widened. "Protective, huh? Adorable."
"Get lost, Riya," Mira snapped. "Or I swear I'll—"
"Relax," Riya said, feigning innocence. "I'm just saying—if I were Tina, I'd be careful about the… photos going around."
Tina's blood turned cold.
---
That night, the messages worsened.
"You're one click away from everyone seeing you like this."
"What would Ishaan think?"
Her heart raced. Every notification felt like a hammer. She tried to breathe, but the room spun. She stumbled into the corridor, clutching the wall.
"Hey, hey, Tina—" Ishaan's voice came from behind her. He must have followed her from the lab.
"I… can't… breathe," she gasped, sliding down the wall. Her chest tightened, like invisible hands were squeezing the air out of her lungs.
"Look at me." Ishaan crouched in front of her, his hands gently gripping her shoulders. "Tina, listen to my voice. You're okay. In, out. With me. In, out."
She tried to match his breathing, her body trembling violently. Slowly, painfully, the panic ebbed enough for her to see his face—worried, yes, but unwavering.
"What's happening?" he asked softly.
She handed him her phone. She didn't have the strength to say it.
Ishaan's jaw clenched as he read the messages. His fingers curled into fists. "This is sick. Who sent this? Dev?"
She nodded, tears spilling. "If those photos get out—"
"They won't," he said, his voice like steel. "We'll find him. And we'll destroy every piece of this garbage. I promise."
---
To be continued…