The screenshots spread faster than the truth ever could.
By morning, Halecrest isn’t whispering anymore. It’s roaring.
Rina feels it before she even unlocks her phone. The air on campus is sharp, electrically charged, like everyone woke up hungry for blood and finally found a name to chant. Conversations falter when she passes. Laughter cuts off mid-sentence. Eyes linger—curious, judging, cruel—then slide away too late to pretend innocence.
She locks her door behind her and leans back against it, chest tight, breath shallow.
Her phone trembles in her hand when she finally looks.
Messages she never sent.
Replies she never wrote.
A conversation that never existed—stitched together with precision, malice, and just enough truth to make it believable.
She scrolls, heart pounding harder
