My phone lay on the floor where it had slipped from my hand, the screen still lit, the image refusing to disappear.
I couldn't breathe.
My chest felt tight, like something heavy was pressing against it, stealing the air from my lungs. I tried to inhale slowly, but it only made the pain sharper.
"No," I whispered. "This isn't real."
My voice sounded foreign, broken.
I bent down and picked up the phone with shaking fingers. The picture was still there. Clear. Cruel. Unchanging.
My mother's familiar wrapper.
My uncle's rigid stance.
And standing between them, smiling like she belonged.....
Tara.
My best friend.
The girl who held me when I cried myself to sleep.
The girl who swore she would never leave me.
The girl who promised, "I'm on your side, no matter what."
My vision blurred. I wiped my eyes aggressively, hoping tears would distort the image enough to make it disappear.
It didn't.
My heart pounded violently as I scrolled back up to the messages.
Unknown: You deserve the truth.
My fingers hovered over the screen before I typed.
Me: Why are you doing this?
The reply came almost immediately.
Unknown: Because she's about to betray you again.
Again.
That single word sent a chill through my body.
Me: Explain yourself.
There was a pause. Long enough for hope to creep in, hope that this was some sick lie, that the picture was fake, that I was overreacting.
Then another message appeared.
Unknown: She helped them decide what to take from you.
My stomach dropped.
Memories rushed back all at once—the opportunities that disappeared, the documents that went missing, the sudden coldness from my family.
Through it all, Tara had been there.
Listening. Advising. Watching.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Ask her about the envelope.
Envelope?
Before I could process that, my door creaked open.
I jumped, my heart slamming against my ribs.
"Hey," Tara said softly. "You didn't reply my calls. I got worried."
She stood there like nothing was wrong, concern painted perfectly on her face.
For a brief moment, doubt crept in.
Maybe I was wrong.
Maybe this stranger was lying.
Maybe I was about to ruin the only safe place I had left.
Tara walked closer. "Are you okay? You look pale."
"I'm fine," I said quickly.
She smiled. "Good. You scared me."
My phone vibrated in my hand.
Tara's eyes flicked to it.
"What's that?" she asked casually.
"Nothing," I replied too fast.
She tilted her head, studying me. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
That line.
The same one she always used.
My heart thudded painfully as I forced myself to speak.
"Do you remember last year? When my family suddenly cut me off?"
Tara nodded. "Of course. You were devastated."
"And you said you had no idea why."
"I didn't," she replied smoothly.
I stared at her face, searching for something, guilt, fear, hesitation.
There was nothing.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown: Ask her where she was the night your uncle came back.
My throat tightened.
"Where were you," I asked slowly, "the night my uncle returned to the city?"
Tara blinked.
Just once.
"Oh," she laughed lightly. "I was with you. We watched movies."
We did watch movies.
But my uncle arrived that same night.
The coincidence twisted my stomach.
"Did you meet him?" I asked.
"Why would I?" she replied, her smile stiffening.
"I don't know," I said quietly. "You tell me."
The room felt heavier. The silence stretched between us.
"You're overthinking," Tara said calmly. "You've been paranoid lately."
Paranoid.
That word cut deeper than she knew.
My phone buzzed again.
Unknown: She has the envelope with her.
My heart skipped.
"What envelope?" I asked, my voice barely steady.
Tara froze.
Completely.
Then she laughed. "What envelope?"
My chest burned. "The one you were given."
Her expression changed. The warmth drained from her eyes.
"You shouldn't trust strangers," she said. "People lie."
My phone vibrated one last time.
Unknown: Check her bag.
My gaze dropped to the handbag by her feet.
Tara noticed immediately.
Slowly, she pulled it closer.
"Open it," I whispered.
"You're being ridiculous," she said.
"Open it," I repeated, louder now.
We stared at each other.
Best friends.
Or so I thought.
With an annoyed sigh, she opened the bag and reached inside.
At first, there was nothing.
Then she pulled out a brown envelope.
My name was written on it.
In my uncle's handwriting.
My knees went weak.
Before I could speak, the front door downstairs slammed open.
Heavy footsteps echoed through the house.
A voice called my name.
My uncle's voice.
Tara's face drained of color.
And in that moment, I realized...
This betrayal wasn't finished.
It was only just unfolding.
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