The photo came late Friday night. The caption read:
"Saw this on the news. You looked lovely."
Sofia stared at it, pulse hammering in her ears.
It was Harper—crossing the street in front of the farmer's market two days ago. The photo wasn't crystal clear, but Harper's navy blazer and auburn hair were unmistakable. The angle wasn't one the news would have captured.
It was from someone standing across the road.
Someone watching.
Someone following.
Sofia swallowed hard. Her fingers hovered over the screen.
Play it cool, she told herself.
So she typed:
Clara: "Funny coincidence. I didn't know I was newsworthy."
Ian responded almost instantly.
IanKeller_83: "You always stand out."
A chill crept down her spine, even though she was in the warmth of her mom's guest room, the TV droning softly in the background. She'd spent most of the day avoiding Naomi's texts. Her best friend had been growing more alarmed with each passing update. Every time Sofia swore she'd stop, something would happen—a new message, a strange revelation—and she'd be sucked back in.
Like now.
Still, she couldn't stop herself.
She replied.
Clara: "You're always watching me, huh?"
IanKeller_83: "Only when I miss you."
She barely slept.
The next morning, her mom offered to go into town for groceries. Sofia took the opportunity to check the app again—her pulse quickening with a toxic mix of fear and curiosity.
Ian had sent another message.
IanKeller_83: "Are you alone this weekend?"
Her fingers hesitated over the keyboard.
Yes.
No.
It didn't matter, really. She'd told him so many lies already.
So she added one more.
Clara: "Yeah. All weekend. Feels strange without anyone around."
Her stomach dropped the second she hit send.
Naomi FaceTimed her an hour later.
"You told him what?" Naomi demanded.
Sofia was curled in bed, one hand clutching the blanket. "Just… that I was alone this weekend. I didn't give the exact address. Just general stuff. Town name. Some details."
Naomi stared. "Do you hear yourself?"
Sofia bristled. "It's just a game, Naomi."
"No, it's not," Naomi snapped. "It was a game. Now it's an actual man following your stepmom around, sending pictures of her to an account he thinks belongs to her. You are in way too deep."
Sofia looked away, guilt clawing at her ribs.
"Then maybe this is how I fix it," she mumbled.
"What does that mean?" Naomi asked. "Fix it how?"
But Sofia didn't answer.
Because she wasn't sure either.
That night, back at her mom's, Sofia checked all the windows twice. She tried not to think about Harper—alone with Jacob back in their quiet little house, going about her weekend as if nothing was wrong. As if there wasn't a man out there who believed she was someone else. Someone he had an invisible connection to. Someone who had led him on.
The irony gnawed at her. She'd built Clara as a trap—for Harper. But she was the one tangled in it now. And Ian was circling.
She turned off the lights and curled up on the couch, watching the front door.
For the first time since this all began, Sofia wasn't pretending to be someone else.
She was just a scared girl who had done something very, very wrong.