CHAPTER 43
The video sat in my inbox like a heartbeat—quiet, steady, undeniable.
I hadn’t watched it again. I didn’t need to.
It wasn’t for me.
It was for the version of me who might not survive this fight.
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The campus felt different the next morning. Lighter in some places. Heavier in others.
Rumors had begun turning into questions.
Someone posted a second screenshot—anonymously again. This one showed a snippet of a call log between Tina and Steph, timestamped only hours before my disciplinary meeting months ago.
“Funny how timing works,” the caption read.
Lana’s idea.
People didn’t know what to believe. But that was the point. Certainty was slipping through their fingers. And in its place, doubt grew like wildfire.
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At lunch, I noticed it: how people were looking at me.
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