Chapter 4 The mask slips

Zahra was unraveling.

Not enough for the world to notice - not yet - but just enough to feel it under her skin. Like the first thread pulled from a hem. It wasn't visible, but if you tugged just a little harder, the whole thing would fall apart.

And the worst part?

Jordan Lane was back in her orbit, messing everything up.

He'd been everywhere lately. Dropping lines that felt too intentional, standing a little too close, asking questions with too much care. He didn't feel like the boy who used to share rice crackers with her after school anymore.

He felt like something dangerous.

She remembered walking past the art wing two days ago, rushing to class, when he'd reached out and gently tugged her sleeve.

"You ever feel like everyone's watching you?" he'd asked, voice soft, like a secret.

Zahra had frozen, caught off guard. "What?"

Jordan leaned in, lips curving slightly. "Like they're just waiting... for you to trip."

She'd scoffed, masking the chill in her spine. "That's poetic. You stealing Tyler's cryptic vibe now?"

But he didn't laugh. He just held her gaze a second too long before walking off.

Why now?

Why after months of distance - after pretending she barely existed - was he suddenly showing up in her space again?

Part of her wanted to believe it meant something.

The other part screamed: Distraction.

During lunch, Zahra sat under the courtyard shade, pushing soggy jollof rice around with her fork. Aaliyah plopped down beside her, dropping her glittery bag with a soft "ugh."

"You're quiet today," Aaliyah said, opening her juice box. "That's usually my job."

Zahra didn't look up. "Just tired."

Aaliyah sipped. "Tired of Jordan's hot-and-cold nonsense?"

Zahra stiffened.

Aaliyah's eyes sparkled with amusement. "What? I see the way you look at him. It's cute. Toxic, but cute."

Zahra forced a laugh. "He's not even my type."

"Oh, so brooding, tall, and emotionally unavailable isn't your type anymore?"

"Was it ever?"

Aaliyah raised an eyebrow, then dropped the topic - but not before Zahra caught that flicker of something in her expression.

It wasn't jealousy.

It was... something darker. Like satisfaction. Like she'd struck a nerve on purpose.

Later that evening, Zahra sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through her old school journal. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. Maybe clues. Patterns. A way to make sense of everything spiraling around her.

And then she found it.

A page from last term, barely filled out, dated just before her and Aaliyah stopped talking for two full weeks without explanation.

The header read:

"I hate secrets."

The memory hit her like a slap.

It was the time she'd confided in Aaliyah about her mom missing rent again. How she was covering it by tutoring juniors. A secret she swore her best friend had kept.

But two days later, Zahra overheard two girls whispering in the bathroom about her "money struggles" - mocking her.

She hadn't told anyone else.

Only Aaliyah.

And when she confronted her, Aaliyah had gaslit her with a smile.

"Zahra, babe, I would never. Maybe someone overheard you somewhere else?"

And Zahra had dropped it.

Let it go.

Because the truth felt uglier than the lie.

But now, that memory returned with teeth.

Had it been a warning?

She closed the journal and sat in the dark, letting the silence wrap around her like fog. Her mind raced with questions she wasn't ready to answer.

If Aaliyah could betray her once - could she do it again?

Could she be J?

Could the giggles, the "innocent" comments, the random smiles all be part of something worse?

And Jordan...

She couldn't stop thinking about the way he looked at her now. Like he knew she wasn't as flawless as everyone believed.

Did he want to save her?

Or watch her fall?

Zahra stood up and crossed to the window. Outside, the street was quiet, lit by the flicker of a faulty streetlight.

She didn't know who was after her.

She didn't know who to trust.

But she was sure of one thing:

If someone wanted her to break...

They were going to have to try a hell of a lot harder.