Buried Past, Breaking Point
473 Words
Chapter 19: Buried Past, Breaking Point
Leila didn’t sleep that night.
The photo burned a hole in her drawer… and in her mind.
She stared at the ceiling, Damian’s breathing steady beside her, unaware of the storm brewing in her chest.
Seventeen.
One night.
One mistake.
She’d buried it so deep, even Zara barely knew the truth. But now… someone had dug it up. And they were ready to use it.
The next morning, she dressed early and went to the rooftop garden — the only place in the mansion where she could think without being seen.
Zara called.
“I got your text,” Zara said. “You okay?”
“No,” Leila whispered. “Someone found the photo. That photo.”
A pause.
Then a soft curse from the other end.
“What do they want?”
“They didn’t say. Just a threat.”
“Leila…”
“I know,” she said. “I should tell Damian. But how do I explain that the perfect fiancée he’s fallen in love with… used to boost cars and run with street kids before she learned how to fake smiles and speak like money?”
“You’re not that girl anymore.”
“But she’s still part of me. And she’s about to blow up everything.”
Later that day, Damian found her in the kitchen, staring into a cup of untouched tea.
“You’ve been quiet,” he said, concern in his eyes.
“I’m just tired.”
“Of me?”
Her eyes widened. “No. God, no.”
He exhaled. “Then what’s wrong?”
She hesitated. The words were right there.
But before she could speak… her phone buzzed again.
Another unknown number.
Another message.
“Nice garden view this morning. Cute dress. Wonder what the press would think if they knew who wore it.”
Attached: a zoomed-in photo taken of her… that morning. On the roof.
Her blood turned to ice.
Someone was watching her.
She stood up abruptly.
Damian’s face tightened. “Leila—?”
“I need to go out. Just… give me some time, okay?”
He stepped toward her, but she stepped back.
He didn’t push. “Okay. But come back to me.”
Her throat tightened. “I always do.”
An hour later, Leila was in a café downtown — hoodie up, sunglasses on. Zara sat across from her, scanning the text message.
“This is stalking,” Zara said. “We need to go to the police.”
“With what? A blurry photo and a text?”
Zara leaned in. “So what do we do?”
“We find out who this is. Before they ruin everything.”
Because one thing was clear now:
Her past wasn’t just threatening her future.
It was already here.
- Writer
