ã€ŠMental Quarantineã€‹


 Foreword: Before It All Begins

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    I often ponder how far the decisions we make truly influence our future. Is it not fate that has already laid out our path since the moment of our birth? Or are we genuinely the architects of our own reality, even when every decision feels like a single drop in an endless ocean? It is a fine line between free will and predetermined destiny that we tread daily. Sometimes, I wonder if every detour, every hesitation and pause, is part of a grander plan that we simply cannot comprehend.

    What if the sense of control we cling to so desperately is nothing more than an illusion? Perhaps we are like characters in a play, convinced that we are improvising while the script has long been written. And yet¡ªeven if our choices seem small and insignificant¡ªthey carry a weight we only come to understand much later. A misplaced word, a missed moment, a different route to work¡ªall of these could set the course for an entirely different life. Or does it, in the end, make no difference at all?

    Perhaps it is not fate that holds us in its grasp, but the sum of our own inattentions. The thought that we can choose freely in every moment carries a responsibility that is both liberating and overwhelming. For what if we truly have everything in our hands, and can blame only ourselves?You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    I often envision the future as an endless river, its course shaped by every small decision. Yet no matter how hard we try, the water never stops to show us what could have been. And still: isn¡¯t it the very act of deciding that makes us human at all?

    Do you share these thoughts? Have you ever reflected on your life more deeply than simply from sunrise to sunset?

    I dedicate this book to you¡ªyou who question life so profoundly that the boundaries between reality and imagination begin to blur. To you, who laugh while storms rage within, unseen by anyone else. You too have your place in this world¡ªa space that accepts you with all your flaws. Yet finding it is like embarking on a journey without a map, guided only by the steps of your soul.

    This journey of self-discovery is marked by obstacles, by pains that strike at the core of your being. But would a path without detours, without abysses, without doubts, not also be dreadfully empty? For it is in confronting with the darkness that we shape the light that burns within us. A straight path may be simple¡ªbut what remains of a life without corners, without shadows, and without a glowing ember?

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 Chapter 1: The Beginning Of My Guilt

    ¡°When are you finally going to start talking?¡± hisses the inspector, her voice sharp and agitated. Her shirt is unbuttoned at the collar, two buttons loose, as though the fleeting promise of an evening off is now nothing but a distant, unreachable memory. ¡°Seventeen minutes¡ªutter silence. Is this all a game to you?¡±

    How I wish I could see it that way, wish I could simply wake up in my room and dismiss everything that¡¯s happened as a terrible dream. A cruel joke that never truly happened.

    ¡°Four dead boys were found tonight!¡± she shouts, her fist slamming onto the table with a startling sound. Her dark brown hair is tied into a tight ponytail, and I can hardly imagine how she¡¯s managed to maintain this composure after so many hours on duty. But her gaze¡ªsharp as a blade¡ªpierces me, unrelenting. It¡¯s as if she could see through me entirely, though I wonder if, without the glasses perched on her nose, the details she seeks would blur into meaninglessness. ¡°How could you do this to those four boys? How did you manage to overpower them?¡±

    Her words ricochet off me like bullets dissipating mid-air, finding no target. They fail to penetrate, intercepted by an invisible barrier that lets them shatter harmlessly before they reach me. My eyes drift to the clock on the wall opposite us. It hangs high, behind a grid, its face a silent witness to time slipping away¡ªfor her, for me.

    In this moment, we are the same.

    My gaze lowers to my wrists, bound by handcuffs that anchor me to this place. The room is silent, save for the rhythmic ticking of the clock, a relentless beat cutting through the oppressive stillness. It sounds like the heartbeat of a lurking monster, growing louder as I retreat further into myself. Like the clock, I am enclosed in an invisible cage¡ªone that grips me from within, that suffocates me. There¡¯s a tightness in my chest, like I¡¯m floating on the surface of a vast ocean while chains at my back drag me down into the depths with merciless force.

    ¡°Matthew Lee, Elias Amirmoez, Gillian Schmidt, and Navid Irvani!¡± she says, her voice slicing through the room like a cold blade. Those names are not unknown to me. A sharp pain shoots through my heart, almost physical in its intensity. I blink, trying to endure the ache, and meet the piercing dark blue eyes of the woman across from me. There¡¯s something in her expression I can¡¯t quite grasp¡ªpatience? Resolve? Compassion? Maybe it¡¯s only my imagination, but in this moment, I catch a flicker of hope.

    ¡°You were found in a room with those four boys! Don¡¯t you want to at least try to prove your innocence? Are you just going to accept that you¡¯re the prime suspect in this case? What will your parents think?¡± she asks sharply, her words landing like a resounding slap.

    My parents! I¡¯d forgotten them completely. How could I? Are they already on their way here? Or are they waiting outside, in this cold, faceless world where I now find myself? Will they be disappointed in me? The bitter taste of guilt lingers on my tongue as my head swims with questions. What have I done to end up here? Was it my attempt to fix everything that only made things worse? Did I lead myself into this abyss? Or was this path always fated for me¡ªa path I was never meant to walk?Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    The rattle of the cuffs pulls my attention downward again. The bloodstains on my fingernails catch my eye, stark and accusing, and I see the dried blood on my clothes¡ªa grim reminder of something past. Time feels eternal in this moment. The images of the boys¡ªtheir faces once full of life and laughter¡ªfade, replaced by the panic I saw in their eyes before death claimed them. The fear in their gaze as they met their end. But was that truly their fate, or did their choices lead them into this deadly snare?

    ¡°This is pointless,¡± the inspector hisses, yanking me harshly back to reality. A sharp pull from the void into these sterile, frigid walls. Back into this cold room, this hard, unforgiving chair where countless other ¡°guilty¡± people have sat before me. ¡°I¡¯m not wasting another minute on you. You¡¯ll face your reckoning in court.¡±

    With a final jerk, she grabs the file from the table and tucks it under her arm. The cup in her other hand steams faintly, the rising vapor a relentless reminder of the present. In that moment, the warm, heavy scent of coffee fills my nose, dragging me into a long-forgotten memory. My mother¡¯s face emerges¡ªher gentle smile, her quiet, understanding expression when I would stumble to the breakfast table with sleepy eyes. That inexplicable connection I¡¯ve always had to coffee becomes a silent plea, a desperate wish: to return to her. To her warmth, to her protection, to the feeling that no matter how lost I became, she would always shield me.

    Before the inspector can reach the door, I stop her. ¡°Wait!¡±

    My voice is sudden and firm, catching even me off guard. The inspector halts abruptly, throwing a sharp glance over her shoulder. I know she expected this¡ªthat she knew her words would have an effect. She¡¯s managed to pull me out of the paralysis I¡¯d wrapped myself in, cutting through the armor I thought was impenetrable.

    ¡°Then tell me why you were found in a room with four dead boys,¡± she demands, her voice cool yet filled with a probing curiosity.

    I take a deep breath, my chest tightening painfully. ¡°That¡¯s not a question I can simply answer,¡± I admit, the lump in my throat aching with every word. ¡°I know you think I¡¯m a murderer. But how can you understand the artist¡¯s painting without knowing the story behind it?¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± she asks sharply, raising an eyebrow in mockery. ¡°Are you suggesting the murder of those boys was justified? Is that your stance?¡±

    ¡°No, of course not!¡± I snap, the thought alone tearing at me. I can¡¯t let her continue down this line of thinking. I can¡¯t let her finish that question. The words spill out as though I¡¯m fighting against the last of my strength. I don¡¯t want her to understand me. I don¡¯t want her to see into my soul.

    But she forces me. And every word I can¡¯t bring myself to say hurts more than I thought possible.

    ¡°I¡¯ve given you one last chance,¡± she warns, her voice as sharp as ever, her index finger poised like a dagger in the air. ¡°So I expect you to make the decision to speak now.¡±

    Her words aren¡¯t an invitation¡ªthey¡¯re an order, one that brooks no resistance. Yet what unsettles me more is the fire in her eyes¡ªcold and relentless like winter storms, though tinged with the faintest warmth, the last vestiges of humanity. It¡¯s as though that warmth is a relic of her own battle against exhaustion. Perhaps it¡¯s the approaching Friday, or maybe patience simply isn¡¯t her strong suit. I can¡¯t tell yet.

    ¡°Fine,¡± I finally say, my voice strained and reluctant, while every fiber of my being rebels. ¡°But¡­ if I speak, I have to start at the beginning. Only then will you understand why it had to end this way.¡±

    The words are bitter on my tongue, tasting almost like a confession. But they carry hope, too¡ªnot just for her understanding, but for mine. Perhaps, as I lay it all bare, I¡¯ll finally grasp how this inevitable abyss opened before me.

 Chapter 2: The First Hour

    JULY 2016 ¨C THE PRESENT

    ¡°You have to understand, Detective¡­¡± I begin, but the lump in my throat refuses to let the words flow easily. ¡°¡­that I knew these boys personally, and my meeting with them in that room had a reason. But not the one you¡¯re imagining, not because of the images you have in your head.¡±

    Damn it, what am I even saying? Why should I tell this woman anything? Does wearing a badge give her the right to know everything? But then there are my parents¡­ If I stay silent now, I¡¯ll break their hearts. I can¡¯t let that happen. They¡¯ve poured so much time, so much love into me to shape me into a decent person. How could I ever look them in the eyes and admit that I¡¯m part of this nightmare?

    If I can prove my innocence, they¡¯ll embrace me, full of relief and understanding. But what if I fail? What if everything shatters? What if the truth comes out and rips me apart? What if I end up in court? The thought alone is unbearable. Of course, I have to seize this chance to go home. But then¡­ she would know everything. Would she understand what¡¯s behind all of this? Could she even begin to grasp what¡¯s happening inside me?

    The detective stares at me, her brows tightly knit. Her right hand grips her cup firmly, as though she¡¯s drawing strength from its warmth. Does she feel the pain? Or has she grown numb to it? She says nothing. Not a single word, no reaction, except for the faint scraping of her cup against the table, which grows louder the more the silence between us stretches. She¡¯s waiting. Waiting for me to finally speak.

    I know I¡¯m misleading her, dragging out the truth, but I can¡¯t help it. Her patience is hanging by a thread.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you think life would be easier if it came with an instruction manual?¡± I ask the detective. She doesn¡¯t reply, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on me. This game of hesitation is taking me nowhere. It won¡¯t bring me back to my parents. And yet, I still feel something pulling me away from this reality¡ªsomething dark, something unknown. Where is it trying to take me?

    ¡°Never mind¡­¡± I whisper at last. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you waiting any longer. Forgive me for being so rude¡­¡± What am I saying? She¡¯s just accused me of murder, and now I¡¯m apologizing for my lack of manners? ¡°Anyway¡­¡± I take a deep breath. ¡°This story didn¡¯t have a particularly special beginning. Or maybe¡­ maybe I just didn¡¯t notice it.¡±

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    ¡°This child is going to drive me insane someday,¡± I hear my mother Maha¡¯s voice in the hallway, not far from my bedroom door.

    I pull the pillow over my head and try to burrow deeper under the blanket, but a moment later, the door bursts open as if pushed by an invisible storm. The pillow is yanked away, the blanket thrown aside, and I find myself staring directly into my mother¡¯s stern face.

    But she can¡¯t maintain the image of an authoritarian woman for long. Her shoulders drop, and an exhausted sigh escapes her lips.

    ¡°Even on the first day of your final school year, you manage to oversleep,¡± she scolds, shaking her head in a mixture of disappointment and weariness. ¡°Your sister is already in the kitchen, calmly having breakfast, while you¡¯re still buried under the covers. Child, you need to refuel your energy too! Now get up, be downstairs in ten minutes.¡±

    JUNE 2016 ¨C THE PRESENT

    ¡°Your adoptive sister¡­¡± begins the investigator, her eyes still fixed on the documents in front of her. ¡°What is your relationship with her?¡±

    ¡°Ayla is my sister,¡± I correct her sharply, emphasizing the last word. ¡°Not adoptive sister. I don¡¯t know how up-to-date your files are, but she is the daughter of Doctor Salman, who was highly respected in this city before he¡­¡± I pause.

    The investigator nods as if she already knows the story. ¡°Yes, of course. And how was your relationship with her before the adoption?¡±

    ¡°Ayla is my best friend. I hope she always will be,¡± I admit, and the thought of her brings a fleeting smile to my lips, even though I know this isn¡¯t the moment for sentimentality. ¡°I¡¯ve never met anyone as understanding and genuine as she is. ?wer."

    Ayla¡¯s parents and mine attended the same university. They studied different fields, but somehow, they connected¡ªwhether through shared interests or pure fate remains unclear. My father, a passionate architect, and my mother, who pursued a career in psychotherapy after witnessing the trauma her own parents endured. Ayla¡¯s father was a dedicated doctor, known for helping the less fortunate.

    To this day, I can¡¯t understand how my mother could have been friends with Ayla¡¯s mother. That woman didn¡¯t possess a personality anyone would describe as pleasant. She ran off with another man, leaving Ayla, only five years old, behind with her father. He had loved her completely, and when she left, it broke him. Less than six months later, he died of a drug overdose¡ªofficially listed as a heart attack to spare the family further disgrace.

    Today, Ayla carries our name in addition to her own¡ªAyla Salman-Naseer. My parents didn¡¯t remove her original surname, wanting to leave the choice up to her when she turned 18. To this day, Ayla and I have never spoken about it. And now I wonder if we ever will, especially if I never get to go home again.

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    ¡°Good morning, sleepyhead,¡± Ayla greets me with a smile that only she can wear so radiantly. Her eyes sparkle with joy as she gestures toward the cup sitting beside hers, waggling her eyebrows. ¡°Oh, is that a coffee mug longing for its rightful owner?¡±

    Shaking my head with a grin, I join her at the table. Just as I sit down, my mother walks in, covering her mouth as though she¡¯s witnessing a miracle.

    ¡°Hold on a moment, Ayla, am I seeing this correctly?¡± she asks, her tone laced with mock shock. ¡°Your sister actually managed to come downstairs in under ten minutes? Someone call the Secret Service; we have an alien among us.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sitting right here!¡± I protest, but the joke hits its mark. Both of them burst into laughter. ¡°Ha ha, very funny. I love my bed and my sleep. What¡¯s so wrong with that?¡±

    ¡°This is your final year of school!¡± my mother reminds me, as though I could have forgotten. ¡°When I was your age, it was the beginning of a whole new chapter for me. I could hardly wait for the last day of summer break!¡±

    ¡°Yeah, well, back then, you had no idea what the future would throw at you,¡± I reply with a shrug. ¡°But I¡¯m going to study architecture and work at Dad¡¯s office afterward.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s your plan now,¡± my mother says, taking a slow, deliberate sip of her coffee. ¡°You¡¯re both still so young. You think you¡¯ve got it all figured out, but no one knows what tomorrow will bring. That¡¯s why I want you to enjoy every moment and make the most of it. Sleeping in is just wasting your precious time.¡±

    ¡°Yes, Mom,¡± I respond out of habit more than agreement, my thoughts drifting wistfully back to my cozy bed. ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. I¡¯ll do my best to stop oversleeping in the future.¡± I can¡¯t help but yawn loudly, quickly covering my mouth.

    Ayla laughs again, her laughter infectious. ¡°And if she doesn¡¯t, we¡¯ll just have to drag her to school ourselves,¡± she teases.

    My mother nods, her expression softening into one of encouragement as she claps her hands. ¡°Alright, kids, tell me this: what¡¯s your goal for the year?¡±

    My goal for the year? My eyes drift toward my phone sitting on the table beside me. It hasn¡¯t rung once. I have a goal in mind, but it feels like a distant dream, one I may never reach.

    ¡°Maybe to get a boyfriend,¡± Ayla says, waving her hand playfully in the air. She can¡¯t help but smile as my mother shoots her a scrutinizing look. ¡°I¡¯m at the top of the class in every subject, yet I¡¯ve never had a boyfriend. Before starting university, I want to know what that¡¯s like.¡±

    My mother raises an eyebrow, placing her hands on her hips as she responds in a tone that is serious yet caring. ¡°Relationships are fine, of course. But I want you to introduce us to this person first before you get serious. And you must know your worth. Don¡¯t let anyone take advantage of you. You¡¯re both smart girls.¡±Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    Her gaze shifts to me. Ayla looks at me, too, waiting for my answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t have a goal,¡± I say, shrugging as if it doesn¡¯t matter. ¡°Why bother? Besides, Ayla isn¡¯t top of the class in everything. I¡¯m miles ahead of her in math!¡± No sooner have I said it than Ayla pinches my thigh, giggling. ¡°It¡¯s true! I have to beat my perfect sister at something.¡±

    I pause before adding, ¡°Anyway, back to the question: no, I just want to have a good time. With you, with Mom, with Dad. Whatever happens, as long as we¡¯re together.¡±

    My mother smiles gently, and for a moment, the room is suspended in a kind of still, loving atmosphere. She strokes my hairline softly, then tucks a stray lock of hair behind Ayla¡¯s ear.

    ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you both,¡± she says, her voice trembling slightly. ¡°I love you more than words could ever express. And I know you¡¯ll make the best of your lives. Never forget, your father and I will always be here for you.¡±

    In that moment, time feels frozen, as if the world outside has ceased to exist. Yet I know, deep down, that this moment will inevitably pass.

    After our mother bids us goodbye, Ayla and I leave the house, heading to the nearby bus stop that will take us to school in about eight stops.

    As we walk, I keep glancing at my phone. My heart races every time, as if there might be a message waiting for me. But each time, the screen only shows the picture of Ayla and me at the beach last summer. We¡¯re drinking iced coffee, our skin darker than usual, as though the sun itself had held us in its embrace.

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t messaged you since that day, has he?¡± Ayla asks suddenly, startling me out of my thoughts. ¡°You were lost in your head again.¡±

    I reach into my bag, where my phone is tucked away, without pulling it out, and let out a loud sigh.

    ¡°No,¡± I say, my voice sounding oddly hollow. ¡°It¡¯s like he¡¯s vanished off the face of the earth. I just¡­ I wish I could talk to him. Get some clarity.¡±

    ¡°Give him a little more time,¡± Ayla suggests gently, rubbing my back. ¡°If he doesn¡¯t reach out, maybe it¡¯s fate removing him from your life.¡±

    Her words come so easily, I almost envy her. When Ayla lost her parents, she was only five, but I feel like a part of her is still with them. At that age, the brain might not be fully developed, but I know certain memories live on in the subconscious. Has she always hidden her pain from me? Of course not! Ayla has no reason to conceal her feelings from me. We tell each other everything.

    ¡°Should I message him?¡± I ask, hoping Ayla will support my foolish idea.

    But instead of agreeing, she snatches my phone from my hand, giving me a look that says more than words ever could. ¡°If you really want to make a fool of yourself, go ahead. But as your sister and best friend, I¡¯m saving you from that embarrassment. The last time you saw him was a week ago. And then your brother ran into him and started yelling at him out of nowhere. Why do you think Aryan overreacted like that?¡±

    JUNE 2016 ¨C THE PRESENT

    ¡°Aryan Naseer... your brother,¡± the inspector says, her gaze drilling into me. She scrutinizes me as if searching for something I haven¡¯t yet found myself. ¡°Tell me¡ªhow is your brother connected to this case? That boy, the one who didn¡¯t reply to you back then¡ªwas he one of the victims?¡±

    For a moment that feels like an eternity, I can¡¯t look away from her eyes. In them, I see my own reflection¡ªpale, fragile, desperate. My brown hair, usually styled carefully into soft waves, hangs limp and disheveled now. The mascara I once applied so meticulously streaks down my face in black lines, silent witnesses to my tears. Were this not an interrogation but instead some teenage drama, I¡¯d likely find myself plastered across social media as the perfect embodiment of ¡°drama¡± and ¡°weakness.¡± But this isn¡¯t Instagram, nor is it a world that twists the truth. This is reality, and here I must bear the weight of everything that has happened because of my choices.

    ¡°Which one of them was it?¡± she asks again, her voice slicing through the silence.

    ¡°Matthew Lee,¡± I whisper, barely more than a breath.

    The name feels like a thousand knives stabbing me, each one carving an indelible mark deep within me. Just thinking of him shatters my heart into pieces that will never fit together again. Despite the serious, often distant expression he wore in public, I can only see him smiling in my mind. That smile stays with me, even now, through to his final breath.

    A smile that was never meant to outlast time, just like him.

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    I ponder for a long time, unable to find a convincing answer as to why Aryan would forbid me from staying in contact with Matthew. It feels as though an invisible wall stands between me and the truth.

    ¡°Even as a kid, he never wanted his friends to come over to our house or for us to meet them,¡± I say quietly, tapping my cheek thoughtfully with my finger, as if the answer might materialize from thin air.

    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t always like that,¡± Ayla reminds me, her tone carrying more knowledge than she¡¯s willing to share. ¡°You¡¯ve loved him since you were little.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s true!¡± I exclaim almost in relief, as if a forgotten piece of the puzzle has been handed back to me. ¡°But even after a while, he stopped coming over to play with Aryan. Would it be a bad idea to ask my brother about his reasons?¡±

    Ayla shakes her head firmly, as though the answer is already buried deep within her. ¡°He¡¯d just lecture us about how his friends are none of our business. You know how your brother is.¡±

    I¡¯ve long noticed the sparks between her and my brother, even though she constantly complains about him. A fleeting smile crosses my lips, and I silently hope Ayla doesn¡¯t catch it. Because if she does, her sharp gaze would pierce right through me, and I¡¯m certain I¡¯d be on the receiving end of her own lecture in no time.

    JUNE 2016¨C THE PRESENT

    ¡°What happened between Matthew Lee and your brother Aryan?¡± the woman asks, her tone a mix of curiosity and sharpness. Her hand hovers over the pen clipped to her folder, poised to jot down my every word. ¡°Did they argue?¡±

    I hesitate, but my response comes quicker than I expect. ¡°If you think my brother had anything to do with this case, you¡¯re mistaken.¡± My voice is calm, but inside, I¡¯m battling the lump in my throat. Matthew¡¯s words flash through my mind, and my heart tightens so painfully that I almost forget to breathe. Yet I show no outward sign. The detective cannot put Aryan on her radar. ¡°He flew abroad a week before the school year started to prepare for his studies.¡±

    ¡°Then why did your brother yell at Matthew Lee when he saw you with him?¡± she presses, her sharp eyes poised to catch any trace of uncertainty.

    I shrug, though my thoughts race wildly. ¡°My brother has always been reserved when it comes to his friends. He never explained why. Not even to our mother. He never lied to us¡ªno, never¡ªbut we knew he was hiding something. Now, I know the reason for his behavior. The behavior that eventually drove Matthew and me apart.¡±

    ¡°And that reason would be?¡± she asks, her pen ready as though she could extract the truth from my words.

    I shake my head firmly. ¡°If I told you the reason now, you wouldn¡¯t believe me.¡± My voice drops to a near whisper. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯ll start from the beginning. I met Matthew that summer.¡± I emphasize the last word, a bittersweet smile flickering on my lips¡ªa mask barely concealing the truth beneath.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t you mention earlier that you¡¯d met Matthew Lee as a child?¡± the detective interjects, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

    I raise my finger slowly, the faint clinking of handcuffs accompanying the movement. ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right.¡± I pause, gathering my thoughts, forcing myself to speak evenly. ¡°But after Aryan stopped inviting Matthew over to our house, his face slowly faded from my memory. Years later, when I met Matthew again, he¡¯d changed so much that it never occurred to me he could be the same boy from my childhood. Suddenly, he was this charming stranger with whom I spent an entire summer. The idea that he could be the mischievous boy who used to tease me¡ªit just¡­ wasn¡¯t an option. I only found it peculiar that I¡¯d encountered two boys named Matthew. It wasn¡¯t until Aryan spelled it out for me, bluntly, that I realized they were the same person.¡±

    The detective pauses briefly, but her gaze remains unyielding. ¡°After that confrontation between your brother and Matthew Lee, you had no further contact with him.¡± She jots something down before fixing her eyes on mine again. ¡°How, then, did the two of you reconnect?¡±

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    The bus arrives right on time at our stop, accompanied by a gentle hissing as the doors slide open. Ayla and I step off, our pace calm, almost sluggish, as though the day itself hasn¡¯t quite decided to wake us fully. Yet with every step we take closer to the school gates, my heart suddenly begins to race¡ªa restless pounding I can¡¯t ignore.

    What is this? Why is my body reacting like this while my mind remains completely still? My last thought about this school year had been a nonchalant shrug in front of my mom and Ayla, a deliberately feigned indifference. And yet... now it feels as though something inside me is rebelling, though I don¡¯t know why.

    ¡°Do you think Samira will be here today?¡± Ayla¡¯s voice cuts through my thoughts. Her eyes flick over the display of her phone. ¡°She ignored us all summer¡ªno messages, no calls, nothing. It was like she erased us from her life.¡±

    ¡°As far as I remember, didn¡¯t she say she was going to her parents¡¯ home country?¡± I reply, searching my memories for anything that could explain her sudden absence. ¡°Maybe she didn¡¯t have internet there?¡±

    Ayla furrows her brow, skepticism etched into her features. ¡°No internet? For two months? Samira? That¡¯s as likely as you voluntarily doing physics homework.¡± Her voice drops, but the doubt lingers. ¡°There¡¯s got to be more to it. And besides... she was completely silent on social media. Not a single picture, no status updates. And this is Samira, who can¡¯t breathe without attention.¡±

    Our footsteps lead us toward our classroom. An email a few days earlier had informed us that the room hadn¡¯t changed¡ªjust like every year for the past four years. But something about this morning feels... different.

    ¡°She¡¯s probably already there,¡± I mutter, more to myself, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°She¡¯s probably dying to tell us about her terrible vacation experiences and ask how much we missed her.¡±

    But as we step into the classroom, the air is knocked out of me. The chatter around us fades into the background, and my gaze locks onto a scene that tightens my throat.

    There stands Samira¡ªsmiling, radiant, perfectly composed as always. But she isn¡¯t alone.

    My eyes freeze on the boy standing next to her. Matthew.

    And before I can form a coherent thought, I see her press a kiss to his cheek.

    The sound of laughter and voices around me bounces off my ears as my surroundings blur.

    A fleeting moment¡ªand yet it feels like something within me has shattered irreparably.

 Chapter 3: Wishes and Reality

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    What is even happening here? Why is Samira kissing the boy she knows I¡¯m in love with? Why would she do this?

    ¡°But¡­¡± Ayla begins, visibly confused. ¡°Why would she¡­?¡± My sister is ready to march straight over to confront Samira, but I grab her arm before she can take a single step. No one in the classroom seems to notice the tension in the air.

    ¡°Too many eyes,¡± I whisper, shaking my head. ¡°We¡¯ll talk to her after school.¡±

    Ayla doesn¡¯t look happy with my response, but she nods in reluctant agreement. Without another word, she backs down. Samira notices us and immediately turns her gaze away. That small gesture sparks a storm of negative energy within me, all directed at the girl I once considered my friend.

    ¡°Hey, Ayla!¡± Anastasia Ivanova¡¯s voice suddenly rings out. She leaps up and pulls us into a hug. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry I didn¡¯t reach out all summer! My parents decided out of nowhere to spend the entire summer in Russia, even though it was originally just supposed to be three weeks. I didn¡¯t even pack enough clothes!¡± she says with a grin. ¡°So, I just bought new ones!¡±

    Ayla rolls her eyes but laughs. Anastasia¡¯s parents run a highly successful construction company and are behind many of the largest buildings in our city. Yet, instead of sending their daughter to a private school, they chose a public one, wanting to teach her the value of money¡ªthough it doesn¡¯t always seem to work as intended.

    While Ayla chats with Anastasia, my eyes stay fixed on Samira. She¡¯s practically glued to Matthew¡¯s arm, running her fingers through his hair with her free hand. That lying, manipulative¡­! How can she do this to me? She knows how I feel about Matthew! So why? Why is she hurting me like this?

    Ayla grabs my hand, and when I look at her face, she gives me a sympathetic smile. Her touch alone is enough to keep my tears at bay.

    ¡°And what did you two do over the summer?¡± Anastasia asks curiously.

    Ayla answers, ¡°We spent July in North Africa with our family. It was so hot, I just wanted to come back home!¡± She grimaces at the memory of the sweltering vacation. ¡°Thankfully, all of our relatives had air-conditioned rooms.¡±

    I listen, but my thoughts keep drifting back to Samira and Matthew. The school bell rings, signaling the start of the first lesson. We take our usual seats, the ones we¡¯ve occupied for the last four years.

    Is it a blessing or a curse that Samira and Matthew sit in the front row while I sit two rows behind, watching them the entire class? Why hasn¡¯t Samira come to talk to me? Why hasn¡¯t she spoken to Ayla or me at all? What happened to make her change so much? Or was she always like this?

    Maybe my mom was right all along. She warned us about Samira from the very beginning, but I never took her seriously.

    JUNE 2016 ¨C THE PRESENT

    The inspector studies me thoughtfully, her expression remaining impassive, almost impenetrable. No reaction, no hint of how she¡¯s processing my story so far. It makes me uneasy. Doesn¡¯t she understand how hard it is for me to say all of this out loud? A little compassion wouldn¡¯t hurt. Instead, she stays cold, detached¡ªlikely on purpose. She isn¡¯t on my side. But I shake the thought away. No, I can¡¯t think like that. Everyone is innocent until proven guilty.

    The truth is: she is listening. She¡¯s taking the time to hear me out, but inside my head, a voice keeps whispering doubts. She wants your trust, the voice sneers, just to bring you down at the critical moment! No! I don¡¯t want these thoughts! Stop it! Please!

    ¡°This friend¡­¡± The inspector¡¯s voice cuts through the chaos in my mind like a knife. The whispering stops abruptly, and I blink. She shifts her gaze away from me to the files in front of her. ¡°Samira¡­ what was your relationship with her? And what¡¯s her full name?¡± Her tone is factual, her questions precise. It doesn¡¯t matter whether these details are relevant to the murder case or not. Right now, every little piece of the puzzle matters.

    ¡°Samira Farahani,¡± I answer hesitantly, feeling my throat go dry. I swallow hard. ¡°She used to be¡­ along with Ayla¡­ my best friend. Today¡­¡± I pause, searching for the right words. ¡°Today, she¡¯s a stranger. A stranger I share memories with.¡±

    SEPTEMBER 2015 ¨C THE PAST

    Samira and Matthew distracted me throughout the entire lesson. How could I have been so blind? How did I not see that this girl had such intentions?

    During the first break, I stay seated, hands folded on my desk, waiting for Ayla¡¯s signal. In matters like this, I rely on her instincts. I only act when she deems it the right time. Ayla is smart, deliberate, always one step ahead. Her decisions are never rash or impulsive. Maybe that¡¯s why she¡¯s never had a relationship to this day. Or could it be because she has feelings for Aryan¡ªmy brother? Even though she¡¯s denied it for years, I can sense she¡¯s not being honest with herself. And while Ayla has long been part of our family, I secretly hope her story with Aryan has a happy ending.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    ¡°We¡¯ll settle this best after school,¡± Ayla whispers as she sits beside me. Her voice is calm yet resolute. I nod in agreement. Ayla must already have a plan in mind. She always thinks strategically, finding the simplest way to reach her goal. ¡°You know Samira is a total drama queen. The more attention she gets, the more over the top she¡¯ll act.¡±

    Samira is exactly that kind of person. She manipulates situations and people to get what she wants. Why did it take me so long to see that? Why was I so blind?

    The rest of the school day drags on, but thankfully only geography, math, and history remain¡ªsubjects I usually enjoy. At least, I hope I can focus today despite everything. Yet, my thoughts keep drifting to one thing: the boy I¡¯ve loved for years is sitting just a few meters away. So close, yet so far.

    The Matthew I know would never have been impressed by someone like Samira. He¡¯s the type who finds girls like her insufferable. But then, I remember the years I spent by Samira¡¯s side. We shared moments¡ªboth good and bad. Maybe that¡¯s why I was blind to her true nature for so long. But which face is her true face? The friend I once had, or the person who¡¯s now acting so ruthlessly?

    To my surprise, I manage to follow the lessons better than I expected. Still, my gaze occasionally drifts to the front row, and each time, I regret it. Samira clings to Matthew as if she¡¯s decided to put on a show for the whole class. She completely ignores my presence, acting as if I¡¯m invisible.

    The hours pass agonizingly slowly, and with each passing moment, my uncertainty grows. What game is Samira really playing?

    During history class¡ªthe last period before our confrontation with Samira¡ªI nearly embarrass myself in front of the entire class. The professor asked a question while I was lost in thought. Thankfully, I managed to recover at the last second with a counterquestion. Though it wasn¡¯t the answer he wanted, it seemed to satisfy him.

    Samira glanced over her shoulder at me. Her eyes sparkled with schadenfreude, as if she¡¯d been waiting for me to fail. Or am I imagining that?

    When the school bell rings, signaling the end of the first day, I exhale in relief. I couldn¡¯t have endured the sight of Samira and Matthew any longer. It feels as though the summer never happened¡ªas though there was never any connection between Matthew and me.

    ¡°We need to hurry,¡± Ayla says, her gaze fixed on the school gates ahead, leading to the outside world.

    Most students stream past us, some loudly complaining that they still have one more period before they¡¯re dismissed. It¡¯s fascinating how teenagers despise school so much at the time, only to look back on it later with nostalgic fondness.

    Hardly have we passed through the school gates when we spot Samira. She¡¯s leaning casually against one of the pillars supporting the school¡¯s front canopy. Without hesitation, we head straight toward her. She notices us immediately, her eyes widening in panic. It¡¯s obvious she wants to flee¡ªbut Ayla is quicker. With a decisive step, Ayla rushes toward Samira and slams her hand against the pillar behind her.

    ¡°Where do you think you¡¯re going, dear friend?¡± Ayla asks with a sarcastic undertone and an exaggeratedly wide smile. ¡°You weren¡¯t planning to leave without greeting your best friends, were you? The ones you ignored all summer long?¡±

    I stay in the background, my hands clenched into fists. The anger boiling inside me threatens to take over. But I can¡¯t let it¡ªnot when there¡¯s a chance Samira might end up playing the victim.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t ignore you!¡± Samira retorts with a nervous laugh. ¡°You just seemed so busy, and I was waiting for the right moment to sweep you into my arms.¡±

    She spreads her arms as if to hug Ayla, but Ayla steps back and pushes her away. ¡°Stop lying, Samira! We¡¯re not the kind of people who fall for your theatrics.¡±

    Samira¡¯s shoulders slump as she sighs and lifts her head. Her gaze meets mine. ¡°Fine, whatever. Yes, I ignored you. I was abroad all summer and wanted to enjoy my relationship with Matthew afterward¡ªwithout someone trying to guilt-trip me!¡±

    ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m that someone?¡± I hiss, pointing to myself. ¡°Are you out of your mind?¡±

    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± she asks, confused, and lets out a mocking laugh. ¡°I understand that you¡¯re in love with Matthew and have given your heart to him. But I fell for him too. What can I do about it? That handsome guy enchanted both of us¡ªand I won. You can¡¯t decide who he loves. You don¡¯t own Matthew.¡±

    She can¡¯t be serious, can she? Does she honestly think these are the right words for this situation? Does she believe she¡¯s in the right? Has she completely lost her mind?

    I study her more closely. Normally, she wears her long, light brown curls loose, but today, she¡¯s tied them back in a ponytail, with two loose strands framing her face. Exactly the style I once told her Matthew liked on me. Absolutely ridiculous. But why is Matthew letting this happen? He¡¯s far too smart for something like this. Could it really be true that he¡¯s fallen for her?

    ¡°How can you behave so shamelessly?¡± Ayla asks, horrified, planting her hands on her hips. ¡°Do you have no backbone at all? Stealing your best friend¡¯s true love! Are you completely out of touch with reality?¡±

    My sister is beside herself with anger. For Ayla, any disrespect toward me is equivalent to disrespect toward herself. Our years of close bonding and my tendency to lose my composure in serious moments makes Ayla my natural protector. And honestly, she really is. Her confidence is a trait that, as I¡¯ve often noticed, prompts many to ask her out on dates. Maybe it¡¯s also her brown curls, which she¡¯s worn shoulder-length for years, perfectly accentuating her green eyes.

    Sometimes, I envy Ayla for her entire existence. And in the end, I¡¯m just grateful to have met her in this life.

    ¡°She¡¯s right, Ayla,¡± I say calmly, and both girls look at me in disblief. ¡°Just because I was the first to admit that I¡¯m in love with him doesn¡¯t mean she doesn¡¯t also have the right to develop feelings.¡±

    JUNE 2016 ¨C THE PRESENT

    ¡°For a girl your age, it¡¯s highly unusual to give in so easily,¡± the investigator says, scrutinizing me with a probing look. ¡°There¡¯s more behind your words from back then, isn¡¯t there?¡±

    I nod silently. Today, I sit across from her, fully aware of the consequences of my decisions back then. ¡°You can believe me when I tell you that I wish I had been a na?ve girl who saw the good in her friend. I wish that had been the case. But back then, all I cared about was revenge against Samira. I wanted her to suffer so much, to see her brought so low. And I only wish it hadn¡¯t come to this. I wish I hadn¡¯t given in to my anger.¡±

 Chapter 4: The Loveless Eyes

    SEPTEMBER 2015 - THE PAST

    I have spoken these words now. Despite her selfish decision, Samira has received my approval. Ayla watches me with raised eyebrows. My behavior doesn¡¯t make sense to her, and she¡¯s not entirely wrong in her confusion. Normally, I would react differently in a situation like this. But somehow, I feel that mere words are not enough to win Matthew back to my side.

    Samira places her hand on her chest, clearly taken aback. ¡°Thank you for being so understanding! I honestly didn¡¯t expect that. I¡¯m really sorry for ignoring you both for two whole months. At first, I couldn¡¯t think straight at all. When you first told us about Matthew and showed us his picture, I instantly fell for him. I couldn¡¯t deny what my heart wanted and just waited for the right moment. In August, right before the summer holidays ended, I added him on Instagram. To my surprise, Matthew accepted my request, and soon after, we started texting.¡± Her cheeks flush, and she looks down with a smile. ¡°When we first met up just to talk and get to know each other, I confessed my feelings to him, and¡­ he said he felt the same way.¡±

    That doesn¡¯t make sense. Why would Matthew, after spending an entire month and a half with me every day, develop feelings for someone else so quickly? Samira claps her hands and looks at us with wide eyes. A satisfied smile adorns her face. She¡¯s taken the bait. ¡°I¡¯d like to invite you both to the movies tonight. Matthew and I want to spend a relaxed evening with his friends, and you, as my friends, are welcome to join us.¡±

    I can feel Ayla wanting to reject the offer out of solidarity with me, but I speak up before she can. ¡°We¡¯d be delighted to join you tonight. What time should we be at the town cinema?¡±

    The cinema is the most popular meeting spot in our town. Due to high demand, it makes the most profit, which the owners take advantage of by hiking up the prices for tickets and snacks. Samira has always forced us to go there because many boys gather in the evening, hoping to win one over. Among all these boys, she chose Matthew.

    Satisfied with my answer, Samira claps her hands one last time and says her goodbyes. She heads toward a dark red car ¨C Matthew¡¯s car, which is all too familiar to me. Ayla places a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I watch Samira get into his car. My face remains expressionless, because I don¡¯t want anyone to see how much this sight is tearing me apart inside.

    ¡°And is this really okay with you?¡± My sister asks, surprised, shaking her head. ¡°No, no! You can¡¯t fool me.¡± Her voice lowers, she doesn¡¯t want anyone to overhear. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t give up on Matthew so easily. Not without talking to him first. So... why?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve taken our mother¡¯s words to heart,¡± I say, hating myself for lying to Ayla. I don¡¯t have to, but I want to ¨C and that makes it worse. ¡°If Matthew would rather be with Samira, I have to respect his decision. It¡¯s true, he doesn¡¯t belong to me.¡±

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    Why did I choose to tell that lie back then? Would everything have turned out the same if Ayla had known about my plans? Would she have been able to stop me and offer me a future without all this pain? Was this the first wrong step I took? Is there a version of this story where Ayla sits beside me, handcuffed to the chair? And would I ever have forgiven myself for dragging her into this whirlwind?

    ¡°As you now know, I didn¡¯t involve anyone in my spontaneous plan for revenge,¡± I explain, letting my gaze fall on my hands. I rub my fingertips together, but the dried blood makes the movement difficult. ¡°I took on this task alone, fooling myself into thinking I would stand triumphantly over Samira in the end.¡± My voice trails off, and I lift my head to look at the commissioner.

    But then I see something that shouldn¡¯t be possible. They are standing behind her¡­ staring at me. The look in their eyes sends a chill down my spine, freezing the blood in my veins. It¡¯s the same look that catapults me back into this room, back into that moment. They look at me as if I am solely to blame for everything that has happened.

    The commissioner doesn¡¯t notice their presence. That¡¯s when I realize they¡¯re in fact not real. They only exist in my memory, fixed there, and I doubt I will ever escape them. I turn my gaze away. My frantic heartbeat echoes in the silence of the room.

    The commissioner, who had been taking notes, pauses and clears her throat.

    ¡°What was the real reason behind your sudden desire for revenge?¡± she asks, raising an eyebrow. Her gaze is penetrating. ¡°It¡¯s not unusual for a girl your age to want to hurt someone who has caused her pain, out of envy, anger, or desperation. However, it¡¯s hard to believe that you didn¡¯t involve Ayla Salman in your plan.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not lying to you!¡± I respond firmly. ¡°When I see myself here now, I¡¯m grateful for the one decision I apparently made correctly.¡±

    I¡¯m convinced that Ayla would have been smart enough to stop me from going through with this plan for revenge. But the thought of that one unlikely scenario ¨C the one that only had a one percent chance of happening ¨C where my sister sits beside me in this room today¡­ or maybe even in my place¡­ fills me with a strange sense of satisfaction. It comforts me to know that I alone bear the burden.

    Without me needing to elaborate further, the commissioner seems to grasp my meaning. She nods briefly and gestures with a quick motion for me to continue.

    ¡°Samira was no longer a friend to me,¡± I finally confess, shrugging. ¡°Maybe she never was. Maybe she could have been, but too many wrong decisions prevented that.¡±

    SEPTEMBER 2015 - THE PAST

    Ayla remains visibly confused by my indifference towards Samira¡¯s betrayal. While she tries to talk some sense into me with her words ¨C to make me, like a rational person, banish someone like Samira from my life ¨C her arguments gradually fade. Her voice moves further and further into the background as my mind repeatedly takes me back to that scene: Samira gets into Matthew¡¯s car and takes the very seat I occupied every day during the summer. Over and over again, this image plays out before my eyes.

    It hurts to know that the boy I love with all my heart replaced me so effortlessly. Is every person that easily replaceable? Or was I never of any significance to Matthew?

    ¡°Are you really going through with this?¡± Ayla asks one last time, placing her hand on my shoulder. We¡¯re now standing in front of the entrance to the cinema. ¡°Are you sure the relationship won¡¯t bother you? During the film, Samira will cling to Matthew, and you¡¯ll just have to sit there and watch.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    I would be lying if I disagreed with her on this point. In fact, it will be hard, but Ayla would get suspicious if I just dismissed her concern. Still, I need to set my feelings aside in order to carry out my plan.

    I nod, letting my gaze wander first to Ayla, then to the large cinema building. The sight alone takes me back to a time when everything seemed simpler.

    ¡°It won¡¯t be easy,¡± I admit, swallowing the rising anger. ¡°But I want to be a grown-up and at least try to save the friendship.¡±

    What a joke. The friendship with Samira means nothing to me anymore. The moment I saw her with Matthew and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, everything was over. But Ayla can¡¯t know that. If she suspects it, she¡¯ll drag me straight home.

    ¡°I never thought I¡¯d hear you say something so mature...¡± Ayla murmurs, confused, before laughing. I shake my head with a grin and roll my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m just teasing you. Come on, let¡¯s go in and see what kind of people Samira hangs out with now.¡±

    With these words, we enter the building. Despite it being a Monday afternoon, the cinema is packed with people of all ages. No wonder ¨C today, tickets are half-price.

    Once we reach the second floor, I feel my heart begin to beat faster. Our host for the evening is still nowhere in sight, but my body already warns me of the upcoming danger. Ayla is right: Samira won¡¯t miss a chance to rub my defeat in my face. Even if she thinks I hold no grudge against her ¨C which is, of course, far from the truth ¨C she¡¯ll savor her triumph. That¡¯s just the way she is. Her character, which I¡¯ve ignored all this time.

    ¡°They¡¯re over there,¡± Ayla says quietly. Automatically, my gaze moves forward. My eyes scan the crowd until they settle on Samira. She¡¯s standing next to a pillar, surrounded by four boys ¨C one of them is Matthew ¨C and a girl. As soon as she sees us, she interrupts her conversation and waves at us with a grin.

    Matthew also turns in our direction. His gaze seems to meet mine directly ¨C or am I just imagining it? The closer we get to the group, the clearer his expression becomes: questioning, his brow slightly furrowed.

    ¡°You said you were waiting for a friend,¡± Matthew comments, looking at Samira intently.

    But Samira just waves him off and laughs. ¡°What does it matter if it¡¯s one friend or two? The more, the merrier. It¡¯ll make the night even more fun.¡±

    Before Matthew can say anything, one of the boys steps forward and extends his hand to me. ¡°May I introduce myself? Navid. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet such a charming lady.¡±

    Ayla gives me a knowing glance. The fact that Navid is offering his hand to me and only looking at me is clear. He¡¯s interested. I¡¯ll definitely use this to my advantage. But what kind of relationship does Navid have with Matthew?

    At least he¡¯s not unattractive, which will make it easier for me to fake emotions ¨C just to provoke a reaction from Matthew. If he gets jealous, it will surely drive Samira crazy. That girl needs to know that the boy by her side is meant for me.

    Before I can say my name, Matthew intervenes. ¡°They¡¯re Aryan¡¯s younger sisters.¡±

    After a summer in which we spent every day together, this conversation feels strangely distant. As if Matthew is a distant acquaintance I barely know. For a fleeting moment, our eyes meet, his eyes as black as the deepest night. Did I just see concern in his expression? No, I must be imagining it. My mind is playing tricks on me, and I mustn¡¯t give in. If I want to make Samira pay for her actions, I can¡¯t make any mistakes. No weakness ¨C especially not in front of Matthew.

    ¡°I thought Aryan only had one sister,¡± one of the other boys chimes in, casually running a hand through his brown, wavy hair. ¡°Where did this second one come from?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m his adopted sister,¡± Ayla corrects, raising her finger with a slight smile. ¡°Hello, I¡¯m Ayla Salman-Naseer.¡±

    ¡°You took the name Naseer?¡± the boy asks in surprise, and Ayla nods with a hint of pride. ¡°That¡¯s cool. But the name Salman sounds familiar. Are you related to Dr. Faisal Salman, the one who passed away?¡±

    Ayla¡¯s face goes pale. She can¡¯t say a word. Quickly, I step to her side and nod. ¡°That¡¯s right. But maybe it¡¯s better if we don¡¯t bring this up so directly. Dr. Salman was her father.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why she was adopted, you idiot,¡± Navid hisses, rolling his eyes. ¡°And you want to be a groundbreaking physicist, Elias?¡±

    Elias shoots Navid an irritated look but remains silent. The two seem to know Aryan. That means they¡¯re friends with him. Are these the boys Aryan never wanted to introduce to our parents? They certainly make a good first impression.

    ¡°Allow me to introduce?¡± Samira grins, gesturing to everyone in the group. ¡°Navid Irvani, Elias Amirmoez, Gillian Schmidt, and Elodie Bellerose.¡±

    ¡°Are you going to tell our insurance numbers too?¡± Navid asks, rolling his eyes again. Is he just teasing her, or does he really dislike her? ¡°Anyway, Aryan¡¯s like a brother to me. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you all.¡±

    His gaze lingers briefly on me ¨C just a moment, but it feels more intense than it should. Maybe it¡¯s his brown-green eyes that seem to captivate me with their depth. I¡¯m not sure if I¡¯m imagining it, but the thought of giving this boy a chance suddenly doesn¡¯t seem so far-fetched ¨C if he¡¯s truly interested in me.

    Everyone has spoken up now ¨C except for Gillian and Elodie. Gillian simply nodded, while Elodie only gave us a fleeting smile. Do they dislike our presence, or are they just reserved?

    ¡°You didn¡¯t mention the movie title,¡± Ayla says, looking at Samira with a mischievous smile. Samira grins sheepishly in return. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me...¡±

    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s a romantic comedy!¡± she confesses with a laugh, acting as if she did not betray us.

    Samira behaves as though nothing ever happened between us, solely through my understanding behavior. In a way, it¡¯s hurtful, as though she¡¯s brushing off my feelings. At the same time, this could help me with my plan ¨C the less she suspects, the better.

    ¡°You should have mentioned that,¡± Ayla murmurs, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

    Navid raises an intrigued eyebrow. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you can¡¯t stand movies like that?¡±

    Ayla shakes her head and points her thumb at me. ¡°My wonderful sister can¡¯t stand those romantic chick flicks. She¡¯s more of a horror fan. I can still sit through them ¨C which I¡¯ve done for Samira in the past ¨C but under these circumstances, we would have canceled for tonight.¡±

    Navid looks at me, his eyes gleaming with admiration. ¡°I knew from the first look that you¡¯re a girl with good taste! If you want, we can watch the new thriller that premiered yesterday.¡±

    It¡¯s exactly the movie Matthew and I had promised to watch together. I dare not look in Matthew¡¯s direction, as Navid¡¯s eyes remain fixed on me. Any movement could give too much away. To me, Navid seems smart and attentive, and I don¡¯t want to jeopardize the revenge plan. A movie night with him would definitely be a step forward ¨C but until I can gauge Matthew¡¯s reaction, I won¡¯t make a decision.

    ¡°That¡¯s a tempting offer, but I have to pass,¡± I say with a dismissive smile, raising my right hand to chest height. ¡°When I make a promise, I keep it.¡±

    Navid must believe that I mean the planned movie night. But in truth, I hope to watch the thriller with Matthew soon.

    ¡°A very respectable young woman,¡± Navid says with a grin, playfully bowing. ¡°I take my hat off to you, Mylady.¡±

    A quiet giggle escapes me before I can suppress it. Startled, I cover my mouth, while my knees unexpectedly feel weak. Navid looks at me in surprise, a glimmer of satisfaction in his gaze.

    ¡°You¡¯ve finally found someone who thinks your awful jokes are funny,¡± Elias remarks, giving Navid a pat on the shoulder. ¡°Well then, shall we head to the theater? The movie should start soon.¡±

    Everyone agrees with Elias¡¯ suggestion. Navid and Ayla walk by my sides, and although Navid remains silent, his proximity makes me feel a bit intimidated. Are those butterflies I feel, or just nervousness in the face of a new challenge?

    For a brief moment, my gaze drifts ahead, where Matthew walks next to Gillian. The moment I look, our eyes meet. His pitch-black eyes are as inscrutable as ever ¨C but for a moment, I think I see something in them.

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    ¡°It was the first time I saw that expression in Matthew¡¯s eyes,¡± I confess, lowering my gaze with a slight smile. The tears burn in my eyes, because as painful as his loveless look was ¨C nothing compares to the pain I saw in his eyes during his last breath.

 Chapter 5: A Bet And A Gift

    SEPTEMBER 2015 - THE PAST

    The movie has already started, yet we¡¯re still outside. Elodie and Gillian have gone to get popcorn and drinks for all of us. Gillian¡¯s family runs a successful notary office in town¡ªno wonder his last name seemed familiar to me right away. ¡°Schmidt¡± isn¡¯t exactly a rare name, but I still made the connection immediately. Given his financial situation, Gillian often covers the cost of food and drinks when the group goes out¡ªtonight is no exception.

    ¡°How¡¯s Aryan doing?¡± Navid asks curiously. ¡°Ever since he left, we¡¯ve barely heard from him, and we¡¯re starting to worry.¡±

    I wave it off with a smile. ¡°He barely talks to us either. According to my mom, he had a lot to prepare before the semester started.¡±

    Navid nods several times, raising his eyebrows in understanding. It¡¯s obvious Aryan¡¯s friends are worried about him. So why didn¡¯t he want to introduce them to us all these years? I can¡¯t understand his reasoning¡ªbecause so far, they seem like really good people.

    ¡°How do you feel about it?¡± Navid continues. ¡°Is it strange not having him at home anymore?¡±

    I shrug. I haven¡¯t really thought about it. Aryan was always alone in his room anyway. The older he got, the more he distanced himself from us. Maybe studying abroad is his way of telling us he doesn¡¯t want to be part of the family anymore. But why am I thinking about this now, of all times?

    ¡°I¡¯m happy if my brother is happy,¡± I finally say, keeping it brief.

    Navid smiles gently and looks at me directly. ¡°He¡¯s really lucky to have a sister like you.¡± After a short pause, he adds, ¡°Honestly¡­ I think it¡¯s a shame none of us ever got the chance to meet you or Ayla. You¡¯re both really likable. And to be honest¡­ I understand Aryan¡¯s reasoning. You¡¯re a beautiful girl.¡±

    What did he just say?

    I¡¯m a beautiful girl? Did he really just compliment me? Why is my body suddenly heating up at his words? Is Navid the type of person who always speaks so charmingly?

    His eyes captivate me¡ªa mesmerizing brown with hints of green scattered throughout. His entire presence feels almost majestic. His height, his smile, the scent of his cologne, and those braids that make him look even more striking. Why is my heart racing faster than before?

    ¡°Th-Thank you,¡± I mumble, failing to suppress my stutter.

    Navid keeps looking at me with that gentle smile. But just then, Elodie and Gillian return, their hands full. Everyone rushes over to help them carry everything. Outwardly, I keep my composure, but inside, I feel relieved. Not because I didn¡¯t enjoy talking to Navid¡ªquite the opposite. But my emotions are confusing me.

    Samira took Matthew from me, knowing full well I was in love with him. My plan is clear: I¡¯ll show her that he still has feelings for me¡ªand it will destroy her. There¡¯s no room for additional distractions. Navid may be kind, maybe even a little flirtatious, but I can¡¯t afford to lose focus.

    Inside the theater, I glance at my ticket and realize my seat is right next to Ayla. Gillian had reserved and paid for all the tickets in advance, so we didn¡¯t have to spend a single cent tonight. Ayla was clearly displeased at first¡ªshe doesn¡¯t like being treated. But she didn¡¯t make a fuss, even though I could tell she wasn¡¯t happy about it.

    ¡°Hey Matthew, shouldn¡¯t you be sitting next to your queen?¡± Navid suddenly whispers, drawing my attention.

    He holds out his ticket to Matthew and points at the empty seat beside Samira. In that moment, I realize¡ªthere must have been a mix-up with the seating. Elodie must have accidentally switched two tickets. If Matthew had been sitting next to me, it would have played perfectly into my plan. But is Navid doing this on purpose¡ªjust so he can sit next to me? Or does he just enjoy teasing his friends?

    ¡°Does it really matter where we sit?¡± Matthew replies, annoyed. ¡°So what if I¡¯m not sitting next to Samira for two hours?¡±

    Navid furrows his brows. ¡°If it doesn¡¯t matter to you, then why not just sit next to your girlfriend?¡± He throws Matthew a cheeky look before settling into the seat beside me. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like to chat with our best friend¡¯s sister.¡±

    Matthew meets his gaze with complete indifference. For a brief moment, our eyes meet¡ªthen he abruptly looks away. Samira tugs him down by the arm, making him sit, and he doesn¡¯t resist.

    I had expected him to want to sit next to me. But why would he? His girlfriend is right here. But he¡­ No. That can¡¯t be. He can¡¯t be in love with Samira! He¡¯s just pretending¡­ right?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

    He doesn¡¯t look at me again. His attention is entirely on Samira.

    That idiot.

    ¡°We could just sneak into another theater and watch a horror movie instead,¡± Navid whispers.

    He may have ruined my plan, but strangely, I can¡¯t be mad at him. His positive energy is contagious. Maybe he just wanted to spend time with me. How could he have known that my revenge plan would have taken a crucial step forward if Matthew had spent the evening next to me? Navid is innocent.

    I shake my head with a smirk. ¡°I can¡¯t leave my sister alone. She hates romance movies just as much as I do.¡±

    Navid raises an eyebrow in surprise. ¡°Your bond is remarkable. You¡¯re not related by blood, but you treat her like family.¡± He sighs softly. ¡°Honestly, I think it¡¯s a shame Aryan never arranged for us to meet.¡±

    I freeze.

    They don¡¯t know about Matthew and me? None of them?

    Has Matthew never told them about our summer together? I understand why Aryan doesn¡¯t like talking about his family, but Matthew¡­ not even a single word? He should have been furious about Aryan¡¯s decision¡ªloud and clear!

    Damn.

    What am I doing here?

    Who am I even trying so hard for? For a guy who clearly doesn¡¯t care about me?

    Maybe that summer was only special to me. Maybe I was just another girl in a long line for Matthew. Aryan interfered, decided what was best for me. But with Samira? Matthew had free rein. No overprotective brother standing in his way.

    Alright, Matthew. I will get my revenge. But not because I want you back. Because I want myself back.

    With a soft smile, I rest my arm on the shared armrest, closer to Navid. ¡°I can¡¯t understand my brother¡¯s decision either.¡± I steal a quick side glance at Matthew¡ªbut he doesn¡¯t even look at me. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s better that we¡¯re only meeting now.¡±

    Navid tilts his head curiously, shifting a little closer. ¡°Do you really think so? Why?¡±

    I grin and shrug. ¡°Maybe we wouldn¡¯t have gotten along right away a few years ago.¡± Then I nod toward the screen, rolling my eyes dramatically. ¡°The torture is about to begin. I bet you¡¯ll be the first one to stretch your legs and escape this nightmare for a few minutes.¡±

    Navid narrows his eyes slightly¡ªhe seems amused by my challenge. ¡°Alright. But I bet you won¡¯t last either.¡±

    I hold out my hand to make the bet official. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Matthew glancing at us¡ªjust for a fraction of a second.

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    The thought of that evening makes me smile involuntarily. But it¡¯s not just nostalgia that brings it on. Rather, it¡¯s the realization that the truth had been right in front of me all along¡ªyet I couldn¡¯t see it.

    I should have paid more attention to my brother¡¯s motives.

    ¡°Only a few months have passed since then ¡­¡± My lips curl into another smile, this time at my own foolishness. ¡°¡­ and yet, I can now see how childish my behavior was. How it led me to this point.¡±

    It¡¯s strange. My mind and my body are on opposite sides, fighting against each other. Inside me, there is a storm of emotions¡ªindescribable, yet so painfully clear. Almost as if I were being stabbed over and over again, only to be healed immediately¡ªan endless cycle.

    The inspector leans back thoughtfully. ¡°So, at first, you were determined to destroy Samira Farahani¡¯s relationship.¡± She pauses, her sharp eyes studying me. ¡°But a single action from Matthew Lee was enough to make you want to see him suffer as well. Interesting.¡±

    I take a deep breath. ¡°Like I said ¡­¡± My voice is barely more than a whisper, yet it echoes heavily in the room. My smile lingers, though even I don¡¯t understand why. ¡°¡­ childish.¡±

    SEPTEMBER 2015 - THE PAST

    The entire movie, I couldn¡¯t focus on the plot. Partly because I wasn¡¯t interested in it anyway, but mostly because my attention kept drifting to Matthew. Every time I glanced over at Navid, I could see Matthew cuddling with Samira in the background.

    ¡°I¡¯m genuinely impressed,¡± Navid admits with an approving nod. ¡°You¡¯re the first person to ever win a bet against me. You have my utmost respect.¡±

    But at this moment, I couldn¡¯t care less about the bet. I only agreed to it to get Matthew¡¯s attention¡ªand I failed completely. Why doesn¡¯t he see me? He was a different person during the summer! Maybe I imagined his affection. Maybe it was all just an illusion.

    No! I won¡¯t give up that easily. Why am I like this? Why do I retreat at the slightest setback?

    Suddenly, the high-pitched scream of a child jolts me out of my thoughts. The sounds of reality rush back in, and my eyes, which had been staring blankly, now focus sharply on Navid. He¡¯s watching me expectantly¡ªreminding me of what he just said.

    I put on a wide smile. ¡°Earning your respect is the greatest honor for me, Mr. Irvani.¡±

    Navid blinks in surprise. ¡°Mr. Irvani?¡± For a moment, he looks perplexed, but then he recovers, a playful smile flashing across his lips. ¡°I see. You¡¯re messing with me! Alright then! Tell me¡ªwhat does the loser, unfortunately me, have to do now?¡±

    I shrug, thinking. Navid is still a stranger to me. I¡¯d have to get to know him better to figure out how to tease him properly. ¡°Can I save my reward for later? I can¡¯t think of anything fitting right now.¡±

    Navid tilts his head thoughtfully, studying me for a few seconds. His eyes lock onto mine. I want to look away, but his gaze keeps me trapped.

    Finally, he nods. ¡°Alright. Then let this be my first gift on the first day of our friendship, Aly.¡±

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    That feeling when he first started calling me Aly. No one before him had ever come up with that nickname for me, even though it was the most obvious choice. After our first night at the movies together, the whole group started using it¡ªeveryone except Matthew. He barely spoke to me, and when he did, he got straight to the point.

    What was it that drew me to Navid back then? His personality, his presence¡ªor simply the whole package?

    ¡°I¡¯m not exactly young anymore, in case you hadn¡¯t noticed,¡± the inspector remarks in a stern tone. And yet, I catch a hint of sarcasm. The woman sitting across from me¡­ she¡¯s human, after all. Why does it surprise me that she has a sense of humor? Or am I just imagining it?

    ¡°What decision did you make after that night? Did you abandon your revenge plan and give Navid Irvani a chance? Or did you keep chasing after Matthew Lee?¡±

    Navid Irvani. Matthew Lee. Though they are no longer part of this world, their names still feel ever-present. Almost as if I¡¯ll be seeing them again in an hour¡ªjust like back then. Back when the world was still intact. Or at least when I believed it was.

 Chapter 6: The First Step

    OCTOBER 2015 - THE PAST

    Four weeks have passed since that movie night. During this time, Ayla and I have often met up with the group. At first, we were careful not to make it too obvious that we wanted to be part of it, but over time, the guys seemed to expect us to join them. We played laser tag together, went to a billiards caf¨¦, and visited places I probably never would have gone to otherwise.

    In the past, Samira would have avoided such places¡ªafraid of embarrassing herself in front of some guy she found attractive. But now, she acts as if she has always been interested in these activities. Still, every single time, I regret being part of these gatherings. Matthew ignores me completely, as if his interest in me has faded for good. Even my growing closeness to Navid doesn¡¯t seem to faze him.

    Amidst all this emotional chaos, at least I¡¯m relieved that Aryan hasn¡¯t found out about my friendship with his friends. If he overreacted so badly just because of Matthew, I don¡¯t even want to imagine what he would do in this situation.

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯d forbid us from seeing them?¡± Ayla asks, furrowing her brows.

    ¡°Maybe he just doesn¡¯t want them hitting on us,¡± I try to understand my brother. ¡°Isn¡¯t that how most brothers react?¡±

    Ayla shakes her head slightly. ¡°I don¡¯t know... Back when he lost it over your relationship with Matthew, he even scared me.¡±

    My brother considers Matthew one of his best friends¡ªpossibly even his best friend. The only explanation I can come up with for his behavior is that he doesn¡¯t want his friends to be involved with his sister in any way.

    I deliberately leave Ayla out of this because I know that, in his eyes, she isn¡¯t truly his sister. At least, I hope not. After all, Ayla has had feelings for Aryan since childhood, and I¡¯m certain he feels the same way.

    ¡°So we just don¡¯t tell him?¡± I conclude. Ayla nods firmly. ¡°Then we just have to make sure Mom doesn¡¯t mention anything. She knows we regularly meet up with the group. It¡¯s a miracle she hasn¡¯t said anything yet.¡±

    Ayla merely shrugs. We exchange a quick glance before heading downstairs. Today, my mother isn¡¯t in her practice¡ªshe has taken time off to read a newly purchased book by her favorite author.

    We find her in the living room, stretched out on the couch. Deeply engrossed in the pages, she absentmindedly twirls a strand of her hair between her fingers.

    ¡°Are we interrupting?¡± Ayla asks curiously.

    ¡°No, no¡­,¡± she murmurs without looking up from her book. But when our silence lingers too long, she finally lifts her head, studying us carefully. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±

    Ayla goes straight to the point. ¡°How often does Aryan usually call during the week?¡±

    My mother furrows her brows, searching for an answer. ¡°Three or four times?¡± She watches Ayla closely, clearly trying to figure out the reason for the question. She knows Ayla never speaks without a purpose. ¡°What exactly is this about? What do you not want me to tell Aryan?¡±

    My sister smirks knowingly. ¡°That we¡¯re hanging out with his best friends.¡±

    No detours, no sugarcoating¡ªAyla gets straight to the point. I¡¯ve always admired that about her. Around her, I never have to worry about being lied to. I have to admit, her bluntness used to catch me off guard, but over time, I¡¯ve learned to appreciate it.

    ¡°So Aryan still doesn¡¯t want his family to know his friends?¡± my mother asks in surprise. She pauses for a moment, glancing thoughtfully at me, then at Ayla.

    ¡°My own son remains a mystery to me,¡± she sighs at last. ¡°Alright, I won¡¯t mention a word to him about your friendship with Matthew and the others. But on New Year¡¯s Eve, I¡¯ll have to have a talk with him when he comes home for the holidays. Speaking of which, your grandparents will be visiting and staying for a few days.¡±

    Ayla and I exchange pleased glances. On one hand, we¡¯re relieved that our mother is on our side; on the other, we¡¯re excited about our grandparents¡¯ visit, as we haven¡¯t seen them in this house for a long time.

    My mother is the middle child of eight siblings, all of whom moved away after getting married. We reunite during summer vacations, but my grandparents haven¡¯t visited our home in over ten years.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Since Ayla lost her parents¡ªher mother to another man, her father to death¡ªshe has had no contact with her own grandparents. They never reached out to her either. My mother once told us that Ayla¡¯s parents¡¯ marriage was disapproved of by both families. That¡¯s why the wedding was a small affair, attended only by their closest friends. Back then, my father and mother invited many of their university classmates to ensure the couple wouldn¡¯t be alone on their special day.

    Mrs. Salman¡ªAyla¡¯s mother¡ªwas an incredibly introverted woman, which makes it all the more remarkable that she formed a deep friendship with my mother, who is her complete opposite. Their friendship lasted a long time, and many thought it would last a lifetime. But fate had other plans.

    One day, Mrs. Salman left everything behind and ran away with her lover¡ªleaving broken hearts in her wake. I don¡¯t know how my mother coped with the pain. After all, she was not only close to Mrs. Salman but also to Dr. Salman¡ªAyla¡¯s father. There must be an emptiness in her heart that can hardly be filled.

    Perhaps it¡¯s this understanding that allows us to truly feel what Ayla is going through. And that¡¯s exactly why, as the Naseer family, we make sure she never lacks anything.

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    That Ayla lacks nothing¡ªthat was my firm resolve back then, and it still is today. My family means everything to me. But my decisions almost dragged my beloved sister into the abyss. I nearly pulled her down with me without even realizing it.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know how this conversation will end,¡± I say quietly, my gaze resting on the inspector. She studies me just as intently. ¡°But if my family is waiting for me on the other side of that door, I hope they won¡¯t have to see me like this.¡±

    ¡°That can¡¯t be avoided,¡± the woman replies, setting her clipboard aside. ¡°Let¡¯s speak plainly for a moment.¡± She leans forward, and something in her pockets clinks¡ªa sharp sound, metal against metal. It sends a chill down my spine, a cold reminder that I am still here. That this is reality.

    ¡°For almost forty-five minutes, you¡¯ve been telling me about your past with the victims,¡± she continues. ¡°Because you want to convince me that you¡¯re innocent, right?¡±

    I simply look at her, my eyes wide, my face unreadable. No reaction that confirms or denies her words.

    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong,¡± she says calmly. ¡°But everyone here believes that you killed those boys. Granted, it does seem questionable¡ªa petite girl like you hardly could have overpowered four boys at once. But the murder weapon was a gun. And as you surely know, physical strength isn¡¯t necessary for that.¡± She pauses briefly before delivering the crucial question: ¡°So, why did you shoot them? Why didn¡¯t you just use your words?¡±

    OCTOBER 2015 - THE PAST

    A whole month has now passed since my final school year at this school began. It still feels strange to see Samira and Matthew so close to each other during class and in the breaks. I try to hide my jealousy, and my friendship with Navid serves as the perfect cover. Even Ayla now believes that I have forgiven Samira without hesitation. At first, she was skeptical and asked me several times how I was feeling, but by now, she seems to have accepted it.

    Forgiving someone who betrays me is not in my nature. That¡¯s why I completely understand Ayla¡¯s doubts. In the end, she is my family¡ªshe knows me better than anyone else.

    ¡°Gillian is throwing a party at his place for New Year¡¯s,¡± Samira announces excitedly. Recently, she has started sitting with us during breaks again¡ªas if she has completely forgotten what she did to me. ¡°His parents will be at a spa for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. So they allowed him to use the house for a party. Isn¡¯t that cool?¡±

    I just nod silently. Ayla, on the other hand, responds enthusiastically, ¡°That sounds great! How many people is he planning to invite?¡±

    Samira shrugs. ¡°Around a hundred? Maybe two hundred?¡±

    Unforgettable things always happen at parties like these on New Year¡¯s Eve. I have to find a way to talk to Matthew alone that night. He can¡¯t keep ignoring me. I still have about two months until New Year¡¯s to make him see reason. He needs to realize that Samira is not the right one for him.

    Suddenly, my phone vibrates. The two girls give me curious looks. I take a quick glance at the screen.

    ¡°A message from Navid,¡± I say.

    Samira grins and murmurs a quiet ¡°Ooooh,¡± while Ayla looks at me expectantly¡ªwaiting for me to read it aloud.

    I read: ¡°Do you have time today? I¡¯d like to see you¡ªjust the two of us.¡±

    My eyes move to the two girls. Ayla watches me closely, as if waiting for my reaction. Samira, on the other hand, claps her hands together with a mischievous smile.

    ¡°I knew it!¡± Samira announces proudly, patting herself on the shoulder. ¡°So Navid is in love with you! Well then, it¡¯s time to give you two a little push.¡±

    I fight against the anger rising inside me. At the same time, I can¡¯t shake the feeling that Samira is choosing her words carefully¡ªjust enough to push me to the brink. Who does she think she¡¯s helping? Me? Me, of all people¡ªthe one who should actually be with the boy she is currently dating? Maybe I should help her with a push¡ªstraight off a cliff.

    ¡°Stop interfering in other people¡¯s business, Samira,¡± Ayla hisses, throwing her an annoyed glance. Then she turns to me. ¡°Are you going to meet him?¡±

    I shrug, my eyes still fixed on my phone screen. I keep reading Navid¡¯s message over and over. He is making the first move. But why now? We¡¯ve met so many times since that night at the cinema. Why did he choose this moment? Has he been waiting all this time for the right moment, or has he only just realized what he feels for me?

    After a brief hesitation, I nod. ¡°Navid is a nice guy. He¡¯s always good to me.¡±

    I look directly into Ayla¡¯s eyes.

    JUNE 2016 - THE PRESENT

    And I gaze into that deep dark blue. The inspector observes me with the same curiosity she has carried since our first encounter.

    The truth had been right in front of me all along¡ªlike an open book, its pages filled with the answers I had so desperately longed for. But just as the inspector would never understand my answer to this quadruple murder without a proper explanation, my past self would have seen nothing but meaningless letters on those pages.

    How much time has already passed? How much longer until my final verdict is pronounced?