Chapter 43

Keisha left the apartment anyway.

Not to run.

Not even to think clearly.

Just to feel something normal again.

The hallway outside Malik’s unit smelled faintly like bleach and old carpet.

Somebody downstairs was arguing over music too loud through a half-open door.

A delivery driver passed her carrying grocery bags.

Ordinary.

Everything looked painfully ordinary.

And somehow that made the fear worse.

Because none of it matched the atmosphere inside the apartment.

Keisha stepped outside into the afternoon heat and inhaled deeply.

The city moved around her in layers.

Cars rolling past.

People crossing intersections.

Phones ringing.

Laughter somewhere nearby.

Real life.

Concrete life.

She needed that.

Needed noise.

Needed randomness.

Needed proof the world still functioned normally outside Malik’s orbit.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket.

Keisha froze instantly.

Then got angry at herself for freezing.

Slowly, she pulled it out.

Unknown Number.

Again.

Her stomach tightened before she even opened it.

You always leave when it starts happening.

Keisha stopped walking.

The message felt different.

Not threatening.

Personal.

Like someone continuing a conversation that had already happened before.

She looked around instinctively.

People everywhere.

Nobody watching her.

Nobody suspicious.

Still, unease crawled slowly up the back of her neck.

Another buzz.

Don’t let him make you feel guilty for needing distance.

Keisha stared at the screen.

The scariest part was how emotionally accurate the message felt.

Because guilt had already started forming inside her.

Not from Malik directly.

From his exhaustion.

His fear.

The visible damage in him.

Alina understood that.

Whoever she was now, she understood emotional pressure extremely well.

Keisha typed before she could stop herself.

What do you want from me?

The typing bubble appeared almost immediately.

Too immediately.

Like the response already existed waiting for her.

I wanted someone to warn me too.

Keisha’s chest tightened unexpectedly.

Because the message didn’t read like obsession.

It read like grief.

She hated that.

Hated that empathy kept slipping into places fear should’ve stayed.

Another message came before she could respond.

Ask him why every woman around him starts feeling responsible for saving him.

Keisha locked the phone immediately.

No.

That one hit too close.

Because she had already started feeling it herself.

The urge to stabilize him.

Protect him from himself.

Stay longer than she should because he looked emotionally fractured in ways that triggered compassion.

That realization unsettled her deeply.

Keisha kept walking.

Fast now.

Past storefronts.

Past traffic.

Past people sitting outside restaurants laughing like reality was simple.

Her thoughts spiraled harder with every block.

What if Alina was manipulating her?

What if Malik was?

What if both of them were so psychologically damaged that truth stopped existing clearly between them years ago?

Her phone buzzed again.

She ignored it.

Buzz.

Again.

Ignored.

Buzz.

This time she stopped walking entirely.

Anger finally overpowering fear.

She unlocked the phone sharply.

Three new messages.

You think he’s different with you.

He thought that about me too.

Then:

Look at the dates in the red folder again.

Keisha’s heartbeat slowed strangely.

The red folder.

There had been multiple folders in the compartment.

But she only skimmed most of them.

How did Alina know which one she looked at?

Unless—

No.

Her breathing tightened.

No.

Keisha turned around immediately and started heading back toward the apartment.

Fast.

Too fast.

Her thoughts crashed into each other the entire walk back.

Because now a new fear had formed.

Not that Alina was watching them.

That Malik might already know more than he admitted.

By the time she reached the building again, her pulse was hammering.

She barely noticed the elevator ride.

Barely noticed fumbling her keys.

The apartment door opened before she could knock.

Malik stood there already tense.

Like he’d been waiting directly behind it.

“You left your location on,” he said immediately.

Keisha froze.

“What?”

“I could see where you were.”

Relief hit first.

Then discomfort immediately after.

Of course he could.

Normal explanation.

Normal technology.

Yet somehow it still felt invasive now.

Everything did.

Malik studied her face carefully.

“She texted you.”

Not a question.

Keisha stepped inside slowly.

“Yes.”

“What’d she say?”

She hesitated.

And that hesitation changed something instantly in his expression.

Small.

But visible.

Fear.

Not fear of Alina.

Fear of losing control of the narrative.

Keisha noticed it immediately.

And once she noticed it—

She couldn’t unsee it.

“I want to see the red folder,” she said quietly.

Malik went still.

Too still.

The apartment suddenly felt silent in a completely different way now.

Not haunted.

Cornered.

“What’s in the red folder?” Keisha asked.

Malik didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.