Vanessa's POV
I felt it the moment I walked into school the next morning.
The shift in Alexis.
He smiled when he saw me. He even walked beside me to class. But something behind his eyes had changed. They weren't just tired they were stormy. Like he'd just come back from someplace dark, and he hadn't yet let go of the shadows.
"Did you sleep?" I asked as we sat down.
He hesitated. "A little."
I reached into my bag and handed him a folded note I'd written during a restless midnight.
"You're not alone. Whatever's bothering you, I'm here. Even if you don't want to talk about it."
He read it, then looked at me. His smile was soft this time. Real. But his fingers tightened around the paper like he was afraid it would disappear.
The day passed in a blur of chalk dust and page numbers. My mind wasn't in the classroom.
It was in that anonymous message.
I hadn't told anyone not even Alexis that I'd received a second note.
This one was on paper.
Folded neatly inside my locker. No handwriting. Just cut out magazine letters, like something from an old crime movie.
"You're not safe. He's not who you think."
No name.
But the message echoed the first one the same warning, the same cold pressure.
Someone wanted to break what little peace I'd found.
And now, more than ever, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched.
At lunch, Alexis didn't sit beside me right away. He stood by the wall, scanning the cafeteria.
"Looking for someone?" I asked.
He nodded slowly. "My brother."
Alex.
I'd barely spoken to him. He avoided me always looking away whenever we crossed paths. But something about him… the way he moved, the way he didn't talk… unnerved me.
Alexis sat down after a while, but he barely touched his food.
"Hey," I said gently. "Are you and Alex okay?"
He didn't answer at first.
Then: "I don't know."
"You seemed close," I offered.
"We used to be."
The sadness in his voice made my heart ache.
"What happened?"
He looked down. "I changed. He didn't."
I wanted to ask more, but I sensed a wall had gone up. So I didn't press.
Instead, I slipped my hand into his beneath the table.
He flinched at first then relaxed, letting our fingers stay intertwined.
Sometimes words aren't enough.
That afternoon, I found a small envelope tucked into my backpack.
No name.
Just one line:
"Ask him about the fire."
My stomach dropped.
The fire?
The one that killed his mother?
How did anyone know that?
How did they know I knew?
My fingers trembled as I reread the note.
I'd never told anyone what Alexis had shared on the balcony weeks ago. That his mother had died. That rumors blamed his father. That he carried guilt like a second skin.
No one else knew.
And suddenly, the puzzle pieces started clicking.
Alex. The photo. The silence. The way Alexis had changed overnight. The way he was scanning the halls like he was afraid.
Someone close was playing this game.
And I was the pawn.
After school, I waited for Alexis by the school gate.
When he finally emerged, I stepped in front of him before he could speak.
"Come with me," I said.
He didn't ask where.
We walked in silence to the old courtyard behind the gym. It was mostly empty except for a few broken benches and a patch of sky that always looked bruised at sunset.
I turned to him.
"Someone left another message," I said.
He stiffened. "What did it say?"
I hesitated.
Then I said it.
"Ask him about the fire."
He didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Just stared at me like I'd peeled off all his armor.
"Whoever this is… they know things, Alexis. About you. About your family."
He sat down slowly on the bench, rubbing his hands together.
I sat beside him, waiting.
Finally, he spoke.
"I know who it is."
My breath caught. "Who?"
He looked at me, eyes heavy. "Alex."
"Your brother?"
He nodded. "He took the photo of you. He's the one who's been leaving the messages. I saw it in the security footage."
I reeled.
"But… why?"
"Because he thinks I'm taking you away from him."
The words were too surreal to process.
"Alexis, that's—"
"He's not dangerous," he said quickly. "Not really. He's just… angry. Hurt."
"And now he feels like he is losing me."
Alexis nodded.
I sat with that truth, trying to make peace with it. Trying to make sense of it.
"But this isn't okay," I said softly. "He can't keep doing this to you. Or to me."
"I know," he said. "That's why I'm going to talk to him. Tonight."
That evening, I watched Alexis walk home from a distance.
He didn't know I followed him. But I had to be sure he got there safe.
I waited at the corner, under the shadow of an old streetlamp, until the front door of his house shut behind him.
Then I walked home, heart heavy with questions.
Later, while writing in my diary, I heard it again.
A soft creak outside my bedroom door.
I froze.
The same way I had the night I found that first message.
I stood up, crossed the room, and opened the door.
Nothing.
But taped to the outside, at eye level, was another note.
"He's lying to you. You'll regret trusting him."
This time, there was something else too.
A small photograph.
A picture of me.
Sleeping.