LOGINBelleâs POVI didnât press play again.Not yet.The silence after the last attempt still lingered in my ears, like the sound hadnât fully leftâlike 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 wasnât just music anymore.And the diary wasnât 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 didnât 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.âOkayâŚâ I whispered.This time, I didnât just trace it.I followed it.Curve.Pause.Angle.My head tilted slightly.ââŚleft.âThe word slipped out before I could stop it.Because thatâs what it felt like.Not a shape.A direction.My fingers moved again, repeating it more deliberately now.Curve.Pa
Belleâs POVI shouldnât have pressed play again.I knew that.The first time had been enough to prove it wasnât just music. Enough to prove something was hidden inside itâsomething deliberate. Something meant.But knowing that didnât stop me.It made it worse.Because now I couldnât not hear it.My thumb hovered over the screen for half a second.ThenâI 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 againâbut this time, they didnât 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 wasnât just listeni
Belleâs POVMorning didnât feel like morning.It felt like something pretending to be it.The light came in the same way it always didâsoft 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.âLukeâŚâ I whispered.The name still didnât feel wrong.That was the problem.It feltâRight.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 nowâNow I didnât 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 didnât hesitate to take it.
Belleâs POVThe room didnât 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.NoâIt 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.ExceptâMy 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.âLukeâŚâ I whispered, the name softer this time.He hadnât denied it.He hadnât corrected me.And thatâThat m
Belleâs POV---The message was still on my screen.> Itâs still here.I didnât move.Didnât breathe properly.Didnât think.Because thinking meant choosing what was realâAnd I wasnât 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.JustâThere.Behind me.My fingers tightened around my phone until it almost slipped.Donât turn.The thought came suddenly.Sharp.Instinctive.Like something in me already understoodâTurning would change everything.But not turning didnât make it go away.It made it worse.Because nowâI could feel it.Closer than before.Not just watching.Present.Aware.Waiting for me to acknowledge it.My throat tightened.âYou donât get to just stand there,â I whispered, my voice barely holding. âYou donât get toâââYou still shiver.âThe voice cut through me.Soft.Low.Familiar.My entire body locked.Not because it was strange.But because it wasnât.
Belleâs POVThe note didnât move.I donât 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 enoughâlike the words would shift, rearrange, turn into something harmless.They didnât.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.âDigging into what?â I whispered.The question didnât sound like mine.It sounded small. Uncertain.Like I already knew the answer and didnât want to say it out loud.My eyes moved slowly to the diary.It hadnât changed.Not at first glance.Still open. Still quiet. Still pretending to be nothing more than ink and paper.But that wasnât true anymore.It hadnât been true for a while.I placed the note down carefully. Not because I was calmâ







