Chapter 9: Whispers and Warnings
Clara made her move.
It began quietly—like poison slipping into a cup of water, invisible but deadly.
Lina was in her room, preparing to sleep, when her phone vibrated with a new email notification.
She almost ignored it.
Almost.
But the subject line caught her eye:
"Truth About Tony."
Curiosity tugged her closer, but a strange heaviness curled inside her chest as she tapped it open. The message had no sender name, just a single line:
He never let me go.
Attached were several photos.
Lina's breath hitched.
Her fingers trembled as she enlarged the first picture.
Tony.
Smiling.
Holding Clara at a beach—his arm wrapped around her waist, his forehead gently touching hers.
The second photo was worse.
It was them kissing, sunset behind them, bodies close like two people who believed the world ended at their embrace.
The third—Tony lifting Clara playfully while she laughed.
Lina felt her heartbeat pounding hard against her ribs, like it was trying to escape.
She swallowed, blinking rapidly as her stomach twisted.
Why now?
Why is she sending me this?
What does she want?
Her mind spun so fast she couldn't breathe.
She dropped her phone on the bed and pressed both palms against her face. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but they didn't fall—not yet.
The betrayal felt too heavy to even cry about.
That night, Lina barely slept.
Every time she closed her eyes, the images flooded back—haunting, mocking, twisting the happiness she once held.
She stared at her ceiling until morning arrived like a cruel reminder that reality didn't disappear with the night.
At work, she moved like a ghost. She barely heard her colleagues. The computer screen blurred. The clock ticked slowly, each second dragging her deeper into a storm of fear, jealousy, and confusion.
Daniel noticed.
He had always noticed.
"You okay?" he asked gently, pausing by her desk.
Lina forced a smile. "Just tired."
He didn't believe her—but he didn't push. He simply nodded and walked away.
But she knew her silence meant nothing. Her eyes betrayed her.
The hours crawled until evening finally came.
Tony visited that night, cheerful, unaware, carrying the soft glow of someone happy to see the woman he loved.
He walked into her room expecting a hug, a smile, a kiss—anything.
But as he stepped in, he froze.
Lina sat on the edge of the bed, back straight, shoulders stiff, hands clenched. Her eyes were not warm—they were cold, distant, unreadable.
"Lina?" he said, confusion settling into his voice. "What's wrong?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she unlocked her phone with a slow, heavy motion and held it out for him to take.
He frowned, taking the phone from her hand.
When he saw the email, his heart stopped.
"What… where did you get this?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"You tell me," Lina said quietly. "Explain it."
Tony looked at the pictures again—pictures he hadn't seen in almost three years. Pictures from a relationship that felt like another lifetime. Pictures of a woman he thought he had buried in his past.
He let out a slow breath, rubbing his forehead. "Lina… these are old. From years ago. I swear. Clara's trying to—"
"Why didn't you tell me she had been messaging you?"
Her voice cracked slightly, but she held herself firm.
Tony blinked. "How did you—"
"So she has?" Lina folded her arms tightly over her chest.
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Defeat settled on his face like a shadow.
"Yes," he said softly. "She messaged me a few times. I blocked her. I didn't want to worry you."
"Too late for that," she whispered.
Her voice was soft, but those five words carried more weight than any shout ever could.
Tony stepped closer. "Lina, look at me. I'm not with Clara. I don't want her. I chose you. I love you."
But Lina's eyes didn't move. They stayed fixed on the floor, heavy with doubt, pain, and fear.
"Why hide it, Tony?" she asked finally. "Why hide even the smallest thing? You knew how I felt after everything. You knew trust doesn't come easily for me."
He swallowed hard. "Because I didn't want this exact thing to happen. I didn't want her ghosts to enter our relationship."
"But they already have," she whispered.
A long, painful silence stretched between them.
The kind of silence that fills every corner of a room—thick, heavy, suffocating.
The kind that feels like the air has turned into glass—ready to shatter with the smallest mistake.
Tony took a step back.
"Do you trust me?" he asked.
Lina didn't answer.
And that silence cut deeper than any spoken words.
He left shortly after.
No goodbye kiss.
No warm hug.
Not even a soft whisper of reassurance.
Just a quiet exit—the kind that feels final even when it isn't meant to be.
As the door clicked shut behind him, Lina sank onto her bed, pulling her knees to her chest. Finally, the tears she had been holding back all day spilled down her cheeks.
Not because she wanted to doubt him.
Not because she believed Clara over him.
But because love—real love—felt like it was slipping through her fingers.
Tony walked home in silence too.
Hands in his pockets.
Mind on fire.
He was angry—at Clara for interfering, at himself for hiding things, at the universe for testing them again and again.
But beneath the anger was fear.
Fear of losing Lina.
Fear that one mistake had undone everything good between them.
Fear that this time, love might not be enough.
He stared at his phone the entire night, waiting for a message from her.
None came.
Lina stared at her phone too, waiting for an apology, an explanation, anything to make the pain feel less sharp.
None came.
Two lovers.
Two silent phones.
One widening distance.
And somewhere in the darkness, Clara smiled—satisfied.
The crack in their relationship had begun.,
And if no one sealed it soon, it would grow.