Arista's POV
The bell rang, but no one moved.
Not really.
The nurse finally let me sit up, handing me water like it was a peace offering. My hands were still trembling, though I tried to hide it by gripping the glass tighter.
"I'm fine," I said for the third time.
No one believed me.
Meera stood near the door, arms crossed, eyes glossy. Advi hadn't stopped pacing. Zoe kept checking her phone like she was waiting for bad news to arrive late. Sana looked guilty in that quiet, heavy way.
And Kaelor—
Kaelor had stepped outside.
That somehow hurt more than if he'd stayed.
"Why didn't you tell us you were scared of the storeroom?" Meera asked softly.
"I didn't think it would be locked," I replied. "I didn't think it would—spiral."
No one judged me. That was the worst part. Concern was heavier than blame.
When classes resumed, the principal insisted I go home. I argued. Lost. As usual.
Walking out of school felt strange—like the building was watching me leave, holding onto a secret I hadn't fully understood yet.
And then I saw him again.
The car.
Same place.
Same distance.
This time, I was sure.
My stomach dropped.
---
Kaelor's POV
I didn't go back to class.
I stood near the staircase, hands clenched, replaying the image of her on that floor over and over again.
Locked in. Alone. Scared.
I hated myself for how fast my mind went dark when I saw her like that.
Sana came up beside me. "It wasn't your fault."
"I know," I said.
But I didn't feel like I knew.
Derek appeared near the lockers, pretending to scroll on his phone. He glanced up, smirked, then looked away.
That smirk.
I walked past him slowly.
"Whatever game you're playing," I said quietly, "end it."
He chuckled under his breath. "You're imagining things."
"No," I replied. "I'm observing."
For a second, something sharp flashed in his eyes.
Then he smiled again.
I turned away before my temper betrayed me.
---
Arista's POV
At home, Mom didn't say much.
She just pulled me into a hug that lasted longer than usual.
Dad asked questions—too many. Sarvin hovered near the doorway, pretending not to listen while listening to everything.
"Did someone lock you in?" he asked later, blunt and furious.
"I don't know," I admitted.
That was the truth.
That night, sleep refused to come.
Every creak sounded like a door locking.
My phone buzzed.
📩
Kaelor:
Did you reach home safely?
I stared at the screen for a long moment before typing.
📩
Me:
Yeah. I'm okay.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Then—
📩
Kaelor:
If anything feels off again, tell me.
I swallowed.
📩
Me:
Okay.
I didn't know why that single word felt like an agreement far bigger than it looked.
---
Kaelor's POV
I sat on my bed, phone in hand, staring at that last message.
Okay.
It wasn't much.
But it meant she'd let me stay close.
And that mattered.
My phone buzzed again—this time from Tarek.
Tarek:
You weren't subtle today.
I sighed.
Me:
Didn't try to be.
Tarek:
Careful. People are starting to notice.
I looked at the wall, jaw tightening.
Let them notice.
---
Next Morning, I went to School,
Whispers followed her.
Not cruel ones.
Concerned ones.
Teachers checked in. Friends hovered. The trip responsibility list quietly disappeared from the notice board.
No one mentioned the storeroom out loud.
But everyone felt it.
During lunch, Devin sat across from Arista, unusually quiet.
"You should've called," he said finally.
"I didn't have my phone," she replied.
He nodded, then hesitated. "That car… have you noticed it too?"
Her fork froze mid-air.
"You've seen it?" she asked.
"Twice," he said. "I thought I was overthinking."
So did I, she thought.
Across the cafeteria, Kaelor watched the exchange—not jealous, not angry.
Just alert.
Something was wrong.
And it wasn't just anxiety anymore.
-----
Arista's POV
That evening, I stood by my window, watching the street.
The car wasn't there.
But the feeling stayed.
Like the storeroom door never really unlocked.
Like something had begun.
And I knew—deep down—that fainting wasn't the scary part.
It was what came after.
The watching.
The waiting.
The way Kaelor now looked at me like he was bracing for impact.
Whatever this was…
It wasn't over.
---