LOGINBelleās POVI didnāt press play again.Not yet.The silence after the last attempt still lingered in my ears, like the sound hadnāt fully leftālike it was waiting just beneath the surface, ready to rise again the moment I let it.My fingers rested lightly on the edge of the diary.Not moving.Not tracing.Just⦠waiting.Because something had changed.The music wasnāt just music anymore.And the diary wasnāt just something to decode.It was leading me.Somewhere real.My eyes dropped back to the page.To the marking.That small curve near the bottom.It didnāt belong.Not to the flow.Not to the rhythm.Not to anything I had learned so far.My breath came out slower as I leaned in slightly.āOkayā¦ā I whispered.This time, I didnāt just trace it.I followed it.Curve.Pause.Angle.My head tilted slightly.āā¦left.āThe word slipped out before I could stop it.Because thatās what it felt like.Not a shape.A direction.My fingers moved again, repeating it more deliberately now.Curve.Pa
Belleās POVI shouldnāt have pressed play again.I knew that.The first time had been enough to prove it wasnāt just music. Enough to prove something was hidden inside itāsomething deliberate. Something meant.But knowing that didnāt stop me.It made it worse.Because now I couldnāt not hear it.My thumb hovered over the screen for half a second.ThenāI pressed play.The sound slid back into my ears, soft at first, almost normal. A melody I used to know. A melody that used to mean something simple.Now it felt layered.Too layered.Like there were things sitting underneath it, buried just out of reach.I leaned forward slightly, elbows resting against the table, eyes locked on the diary. My fingers hovered above the page againābut this time, they didnāt hesitate.They followed.Left.Pause.Curve.Drop.Rise.The rhythm matched.Not perfectly.Not obviously.But enough.My breathing slowed, syncing with the pattern as I traced it again, more carefully this time. I wasnāt just listeni
Belleās POVMorning didnāt feel like morning.It felt like something pretending to be it.The light came in the same way it always didāsoft through the curtains, stretching across the floor, touching the edge of my desk like nothing had changed.But everything had.I stood in the middle of my room longer than I should have, staring at the space near the window.At nothing.At where he had been.My chest tightened slightly.āLukeā¦ā I whispered.The name still didnāt feel wrong.That was the problem.It feltāRight.Too right.And that alone made everything else feel unstable.Because Luke was supposed to be gone.Not missing.Not hidden.Gone.That was what I had believed for three years.That was what I had remembered.And nowāNow I didnāt know if that memory was mine.Or something given to me.I grabbed my bag.My movements slower than usual.Heavier.Like I was carrying something invisible with me.Maybe I was.The diary stayed hidden between my books.I didnāt hesitate to take it.
Belleās POVThe room didnāt go back to normal.That was the first thing I noticed.Not the silence.Not the cold.Not even the fact that I was still staring at a window that had just swallowed someone I thought was dead.NoāIt was the absence of normal.Like something had been disturbed too deeply to settle again.I sat on the edge of the bed, my hands resting against the sheets, fingers slightly curled like I was holding onto something invisible.Maybe I was.Maybe I had been this whole time.My eyes drifted slowly to the window again.Closed now.Still.Nothing there.No sign he had ever been.No sound.No movement.No proof.ExceptāMy chest tightened.I could still hear his voice.Clear.Close.You still shiver.My arms pulled in slightly again, instinctively.That small, automatic reaction made my stomach twist.Because he had known that.Not guessed.Not assumed.Known.āLukeā¦ā I whispered, the name softer this time.He hadnāt denied it.He hadnāt corrected me.And thatāThat m
Belleās POV---The message was still on my screen.> Itās still here.I didnāt move.Didnāt breathe properly.Didnāt think.Because thinking meant choosing what was realāAnd I wasnāt ready for that.The room had gone too quiet.Not empty.Quiet.Like something inside it had decided to listen.The air felt⦠occupied.Not moving.Not shifting.JustāThere.Behind me.My fingers tightened around my phone until it almost slipped.Donāt turn.The thought came suddenly.Sharp.Instinctive.Like something in me already understoodāTurning would change everything.But not turning didnāt make it go away.It made it worse.Because nowāI could feel it.Closer than before.Not just watching.Present.Aware.Waiting for me to acknowledge it.My throat tightened.āYou donāt get to just stand there,ā I whispered, my voice barely holding. āYou donāt get toāāāYou still shiver.āThe voice cut through me.Soft.Low.Familiar.My entire body locked.Not because it was strange.But because it wasnāt.
Belleās POVThe note didnāt move.I donāt know why I expected it to.Maybe because everything else had stopped making sense.Maybe because a part of me still believed this would unravel if I looked at it long enoughālike the words would shift, rearrange, turn into something harmless.They didnāt.Stop digging.Two words. Simple. Clear.Deliberate.I read them again.And again.Each time, they felt heavier. Not louder. Not sharper. Just⦠heavier. Like they were settling deeper into the room. Into me.My fingers tightened around the edge of the paper.āDigging into what?ā I whispered.The question didnāt sound like mine.It sounded small. Uncertain.Like I already knew the answer and didnāt want to say it out loud.My eyes moved slowly to the diary.It hadnāt changed.Not at first glance.Still open. Still quiet. Still pretending to be nothing more than ink and paper.But that wasnāt true anymore.It hadnāt been true for a while.I placed the note down carefully. Not because I was calmā







