Sheila didn’t sleep.
She tried. She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling while the glow of her phone screen replayed in her mind over and over again.
You’re getting too close to him. That’s dangerous for both of you.
Walk away while you still can.
The words crawled under her skin like a warning she couldn’t shake. She had received anonymous messages before during her academic life competition, jealousy, petty nonsense. But this felt different. The tone wasn’t immature or dramatic.
It was controlled.
Calculated.
Personal.
By the time her alarm rang, she had already been awake for nearly two hours. Her body felt heavy, but her mind was sharp with restless tension.
She sat up slowly, gripping the edge of her bed.
“I’m not running,” she whispered to herself.
The arena felt louder than
