I stared at my phone for the fifth time in as many minutes, the screen still showing the same message from this morning. I had barely moved from my sitting position. The text was simple and cruel and played over and over in my head. "You should know what your girlfriend does when you're not looking." No proof. No name. Just a blurry photo. But that single image had lodged itself in my chest like a splinter. I felt hollow and shattered at the same timeeven though it prove anything yet. It was five o'clock. As I round off with my work for the day, sending necessary mails and packing my office files that I will go home with, my heart hammering, mind racing. When I called her earlier, my voice had been flat, almost polite. "We need to talk. Tonight. Home. 7pm." I ended the call before she could ask why-because I didn't truly know the answer myself. I took a deep breath and left for home. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty, an echo chamber for my doubt. Hours later, The front door clicked open. I looked up immediately. Eva stepped inside, her shoulders tense, her eyes wide, as though she'd been holding her breath all day. "Babe," she said softly, dropping her purse by the door. She closed it gently, as if she feared I would vanish at the slightest noise. "Eva," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. I didn't move from the couch. Instead, I gestured at the empty space beside me. "Sit down." She hesitated, then crossed to the sofa and sat at its edge, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. I watched her closely. Her dress was neat but simple-nothing like the outfit she'd worn when she brought lunch to Lucas's office. It struck me as odd that she'd come home dressed as if she'd just left work. I took a slow breath. "This morning," I began, "you brought lunch to Lucas's office. You said it was just food. Then he asked to see you. You went in. Eva . And I walked in on you two alone." Her eyes flickered at the mention of her name, an involuntary wince. She opened her mouth, closed it, then looked down at her hands. "I know how it looked," she said finally. Her voice was calm, but the tremor underneath it was unmistakable. "But nothing happened, babe I promise ." "Then explain why you were there," I demanded. "Why you went without telling me." She took a shaky breath. "I-I thought you'd be buried in work and I wanted to surprise you. You always say my cooking makes long days easier." I leaned forward. "So you cooked, packed the food, left early, and went straight to him?" My voice rose without meaning to. "Do you have any idea how that looks?" Tears welled in her eyes. She looked up, pain and frustration mingling on her face. "Babe, look at me." I met her gaze. She blinked back tears and swallowed hard. "I brought the food because I know you love it. I went in because he asked me to. I didn't refuse because I was scared of what he might do if I said no. But it ended the moment I saw you walk in." She paused, waiting. My chest tightened. Part of me wanted to believe her. Part of me wanted proof. "I got a text" I said as I pulled out my phone to show her the photo. "This text you got," she continued, her voice softer now, "it's not real. Someone is trying to wreck us, to turn us against each other before we even get a chance." I stood and began pacing again. "Someone? Who would do that? Why?" She stood too, coming a step closer. "I don't know who. But it's someone with access to both of our numbers. Someone who knows about us." Anger flared in me. "So you're saying this is a conspiracy? That some phantom is playing puppeteer with our lives?" She nodded, tears now freely rolling down her cheeks. "Yes. And I'm sorry you have to be the target, but it's happening to me too." I stopped pacing, staring at her. Her words struck me harder than any blow. I wanted to find an explanation that didn't involve betrayal. I wanted to trust her. But trust felt fragile, like a cracked pane of glass. "Then show me proof of sabotage," I said, voice low. "Show me who sent it, and maybe I'll believe you." She pulled out her phone. "I wish I could. I keep deleting their messages but they just keep coming. I get new numbers every time." I frowned. "Have you saved any of them?" She shook her head. "They scramble the sender ID. I can't trace it." Silence hung between us for a long beat. Finally I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. "All right." My shoulders slumped. "Let's say you're telling the truth. Someone is out to undo us. What do we do now? How do we fight back?" She took a step forward and laid her hand on my arm. "We stick together. We refuse to give them the satisfaction of watching us tear each other apart." I looked down at her hand, then into her eyes. For a moment the rage and doubt melted into something warmer-something like hope. "I want to believe you," I said quietly, "because I love you. But this almost destroyed us before it even had a chance to grow." She nodded and squeezed my arm. "I know. I'm so sorry. I never meant to make you doubt me. Please trust me." I reached for her hand and held it tight. "Okay. We'll face this together." Her lips curved in a small, grateful smile. Relief washed over her face. Her face reflecting relief. Just then, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it. Her eyes widened and she yelped softly. She looked at me with a pleading gaze "What is it?" I asked, moving to sit beside her. She stared at the screen, her breathing quickening. "It's... it's the same text," she whispered. I leaned over her shoulder and read: "You should know that there are eyes on you." My blood ran cold. She dropped the phone. I caught it reflexively. She looked at me, pale and collapsed on the sofa. My mind whirled. "What does that mean?" She trembled, voice breaking. "It means they're watching everything. They know who we both are and they want us to break before we're even sure what we have." I gripped her hand. "We'll stop this. We'll find out who it is." Her phone buzzed again, this time I didn't see the content "What is it now, did they send you any message" She didn't say anything, her eyes darted toward the door, a hint of panic in every glance. "No... not really . I have to go." I frowned. "Go? Where?"