Aria's POV
I woke up before my alarm.
That alone told me it was going to be one of those days.
I stared at my ceiling for a while, listening to the early morning sounds of the house my mother moving around the kitchen, the faint clatter of plates, the radio murmuring in the background. My phone was on the bedside table, screen dark, but my mind already knew it wouldn't stay that way for long.
I got up, dressed, and tied my hair in front of the mirror. I checked my phone once. No new messages yet. That didn't calm me. It only made my chest feel tight, like I was waiting for something inevitable.
Downstairs, my mother was standing by the counter, flipping through a small notebook.
"Good morning," she said without looking up.
"Morning," I replied, dropping my bag by the chair.
She sighed and tapped her pen against the notebook. "Do you know how much tomatoes cost now? Yesterday I went to the market, and the woman had the audacity to tell me one basket is almost double the price."
I smiled faintly. "Again?"
"I'm serious, Aria," she said, finally looking at me. "First rice, then oil, now tomatoes. At this rate, we'll start planting our own garden."
"That wouldn't be so bad," I said, pouring myself tea.
"And transport," she continued, warming up now. "Your uncle called me yesterday complaining about fuel. Everything is just… rising. Even bread is smaller, but the price is bigger."
She shook her head and clicked her tongue.
I nodded, stirring my tea slowly. "You always say this country is doing experiments on us."
"And it's true," she replied quickly. "How do you expect families to survive like this?"
She slid a plate toward me. "Eat. You barely touched your food yesterday."
"I will," I said, even though my appetite wasn't really there.
She watched me for a second, then softened her tone. "You've been quiet lately. School stress?"
"Something like that," I answered carefully.
"Well, don't let it swallow you," she said. "Talk to me if anything is wrong."
"I know," I said.
I finished eating, grabbed my bag, and kissed her cheek.
"Don't forget your lunch," she called after me.
"I won't."
The walk to school was loud and ordinary. Cars passing. Students laughing. Someone arguing over earbuds. Everything looked normal, yet my thoughts kept drifting.
By the time I reached school, I felt like I'd already lived half a day.
Mia was waiting near our usual spot.
"You look like you're somewhere else," she said as soon as she saw me.
"I kind of am," I replied.
"Any messages this morning?"
"Not yet."
She frowned. "That's worse, isn't it?"
I nodded. "It usually means they're waiting."
We walked to class together. I sat by the window, as always. The classroom smelled like dust and perfume and early-morning boredom. Students were talking loudly, dragging chairs, complaining about assignments.
I had just opened my notebook when my phone vibrated.
I didn't flinch this time. I just sighed and picked it up.
A new message.
You didn't sleep well. I could tell.
My fingers tightened around the phone.
Mia leaned over. "What does it say?"
"That I didn't sleep well," I whispered.
She scoffed. "They're really committed to being annoying."
I typed back slowly.
You enjoy stating the obvious.
The reply came almost immediately.
I enjoy hearing you respond.
I rolled my eyes, but my heart was beating faster.
Mia shook her head. "You see why I don't like this?"
"I know," I murmured.
Another message came in.
You look distracted today. Your mother talked too much at breakfast.
My breath caught.
Mia stiffened. "Okay. No. That's not funny."
I stared at the screen, anger mixing with that familiar unease.
You really need to stop pretending you're everywhere, I typed.
There was a pause this time.
Then the reply came.
Relax. I just notice things.
"That's not reassuring," I muttered.
Before Mia could say anything else, the classroom door opened.
"Good morning, everyone," the teacher said.
Groans filled the room as students hurried to their seats.
She placed her bag down and smiled. "Before we start today's lesson, I have an announcement."
Everyone immediately became alert.
"There will be a school excursion next week," she said. "A one-week trip to Columbia Beach. Consent forms will be shared today."
The class exploded with excitement.
"A whole week?" "No classes?" "This is real?"
"Yes," she laughed. "But only for students with signed permission slips."
I forced a smile, clapping lightly like everyone else.
Inside my bag, my phone vibrated again.
I didn't need to check it to know.
Whoever had been watching me all this time had heard the announcement too.
And suddenly, a one-week trip didn't sound exciting at all
---
The bell rang, but nobody moved.
Normally, the sound meant notebooks opening, pens clicking, someone already complaining about how long the lesson would feel. Today, it meant nothing. The classroom stayed loud, buzzing, alive in a way it usually wasn't.
"A whole week?" someone repeated from the back.
"At a beach?" another voice added, almost screaming.
The teacher raised her hand, smiling but firm. "Yes, yes. Calm down. You'll all get the details."
Mia turned to me immediately. "Columbia Beach. Do you know how expensive that place is?"
"I've only seen it online," I said. "It looks unreal."
"Unreal like bikinis-all-day unreal," she whispered, grinning.
I nudged her arm. "Behave."
But I couldn't deny it a week away from school, classes replaced by sand and water and night campfires? It sounded like something out of a movie.
The teacher continued, "You'll receive permission slips today. They must be signed by your parents or guardians. No signature, no trip."
Groans followed that part.
"Also," she added, "there will be strict rules. Curfews. Group activities. Supervision at all times."
"Always spoiling the fun," someone muttered.
I laughed softly, but my fingers tightened around my pen.
My phone vibrated again.
I didn't check it immediately. I didn't want to. I didn't want to feel that familiar tightening in my chest, the way excitement and fear were starting to mix too easily these days.
Mia leaned closer. "You okay?"
"Yeah," I said, then hesitated. "Just thinking."
She gave me a look. "About the trip or… the messages?"
"Both," I admitted.
Around us, conversations had already shifted.
"Bro, I'm bringing like five swimsuits." "My parents will never agree." "My mom will say it's unsafe." "Imagine the night parties."
Noah turned in his seat, resting his arm on the back of his chair. "Aria, you're going, right?"
I looked up, slightly startled. "I...I don't know yet."
"Why wouldn't you?" he asked, genuinely confused. "It's literally the best trip we've had all year."
Mia answered before I could. "Some of us actually have parents that ask questions."
Noah laughed. "Mine will sign immediately."
Leo leaned over from the other side. "Same. My dad will probably pack my bags himself."
Kai didn't say anything. He just listened, eyes calm, unreadable.
For some reason, that unsettled me more than if he'd spoken.
The teacher finally passed the slips down the rows. When it reached me, I stared at the paper longer than necessary.
One week.
Overnight.
Beach.
Camping.
My phone buzzed again.
I glanced down this time.
You went quiet when the trip was mentioned.
I swallowed.
Mia noticed my expression immediately. "What now?"
I showed her the screen under the desk.
Her smile vanished. "Okay, that's getting creepy."
I typed back carefully.
You don't miss anything, do you?
The reply came slower this time, like it was being thought through.
I just pay attention to you.
I locked my phone without responding.
The rest of the class dragged. The teacher talked about assignments, deadlines, behavior expectations, but nobody was really listening. Everyone kept whispering about the excursion, about rooms, about who would bunk with who.
When the bell finally rang, chaos broke loose.
"So we're rooming together," Mia said instantly.
"That wasn't even a question," I replied.
She laughed. "Good."
Noah caught up with us in the hallway. "You guys think they'll allow beach walks at night?"
"Absolutely not," Mia said. "And that's exactly why people will sneak out."
Leo joined in. "I'm already planning my outfits."
I smiled, but my thoughts felt distant, like I was watching everything through glass.
My phone vibrated again.
I didn't check it.
Instead, I slipped it deeper into my bag.
For the first time, the idea of leaving town didn't feel like escape.
It felt like stepping into a place where whoever had been watching me might follow even closer.
And that scared me more than I wanted to admit.
---
Aria's POV
The house smelled like onions and tomatoes when I stepped in.
Mom was in the kitchen, standing over the stove with her sleeves rolled up, wooden spoon in hand, stirring like she was fighting the pot. The radio hummed softly in the background — one of her old love songs she always played when she was tired.
"You're late," she said without turning.
"Not really," I replied, slipping my shoes off. "School ended late."
She glanced at the wall clock. "Late enough."
I dropped my bag by the couch and walked closer. "What are you making?"
"Stew. And don't touch it," she warned. "Go wash your hands."
I did, scrubbing a little longer than necessary, my mind already on the folded paper inside my bag. The permission slip felt heavier than it should have. Like it knew it was about to start something.
When I came back, Mom was plating rice.
"So," she said casually, "how was school?"
I hesitated.
This was always how it started. Innocent questions. Calm voice. Then the real interrogation.
"It was… okay," I said. "Busy."
She raised an eyebrow. "Busy how?"
I pulled out a chair and sat. "They announced something today."
Her spoon paused mid-air. "Announced what?"
"A school excursion."
She turned fully now. "Excursion where?"
"To Columbia," I said quickly, before I could overthink it. "The beach."
Silence.
Not the loud, angry kind. The quiet kind that made your heart beat louder.
"The beach," she repeated slowly.
"Yes. For a week."
"A week," she echoed.
I reached for the permission slip and slid it across the table like evidence. "They gave us this."
She didn't touch it immediately. She just stared at me.
"Aria," she said carefully, "since when does your school take children to beaches?"
"It's supervised," I said fast. "Teachers, chaperones, security. It's educational too — ecology, teamwork, leadership—"
She picked up the paper now, scanning it with sharp eyes. "Camping?"
"Yes, but—"
"Overnight?"
"Yes."
"With boys?"
I swallowed. "Mom…"
She sighed and leaned back. "Don't 'Mom' me. Answer."
"Yes," I said quietly. "But separate accommodations."
She read more, lips moving slightly.
"And swimming," she added. "Night activities."
"Curfews," I said. "They're strict."
She looked up. "And you want to go."
It wasn't a question.
"I do," I admitted. "I really do."
She studied my face for a long moment. "Why?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
Because everyone else is going.
Because I want to feel normal.
Because staying behind feels like hiding.
"I just… want the experience," I said instead. "I've never done anything like this."
She nodded slowly. "And your grades?"
"They're fine."
"Your behavior at school?"
"Also fine."
She exhaled. "And nothing strange is going on?"
My chest tightened just slightly.
"No," I said. Not a lie. Just… not the full truth.
She folded the paper neatly. "We'll talk about it."
My heart sank. "That doesn't sound like a yes."
"It's not a no either," she replied. "I need to think."
I watched her pick up her spoon again, like the conversation was done.
But my phone buzzed in my bag.
Once.
Then again.
I ignored it.
Mom noticed anyway. "Your phone has been restless lately."
"It's nothing," I said quickly.
She gave me a look. "Nothing usually doesn't vibrate that much."
I stood up, helping her serve the food. "I'll set the table."
During dinner, she asked about groceries.
"We need oil," she said. "And tomatoes. And you finished the cereal again."
"Sorry," I muttered.
"And next time you go out with Mia, let me know earlier. I don't like surprises."
"I know."
She ate quietly for a moment, then said, "You've been distracted lately."
I froze. "Have I?"
"Yes," she said. "You listen, but you're not here."
I forced a smile. "Just school stress."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't push.
After dinner, I went to my room.
I locked the door.
Then I checked my phone.
Did you enjoy dinner?
You looked thoughtful today.
My fingers trembled slightly.
I typed back.
You shouldn't know that.
The reply came almost immediately.
I notice small things.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding.
Downstairs, I heard Mom moving around, the sound grounding me.
I wasn't alone.
I wasn't helpless.
But whoever this was they weren't going away either.
And tomorrow, that permission slip would either stay blank…
or be signed in ink that changed everything.