The library was quiet, but my mind was far from peaceful as I stared at the two photos on my phone.
At first glance, they looked convincing. Real, even. There was a naturalness to them—almost like someone had just casually snapped them without thinking. The first one, a shot from a motel parking lot, looked genuine enough. Rena was standing near a faded sign, her back to the camera, the late afternoon light casting long shadows behind her. But when I looked closer, I could see it. The image wasn't sharp enough. It was taken from a distance, and while it seemed to capture the moment, the blur of the edges—just enough to catch your eye—made it feel… off. It wasn't something anyone would pick up on at first glance, but it was there, like a tiny slip in the otherwise flawless frame.
The second photo, snapped inside a coffee shop, was much the same. Rena was seated at a table, her face half-hidden behind a steaming cup, the angle all wrong, as if someone had hurried to take the shot without her noticing. It looked almost candid, but again, something felt out of place. The focus wasn't crisp. The light coming through the window reflected too harshly, and the shadow on her cheek was too pronounced for the time of day. A small mistake— Something someone with enough patience or focus might catch, but nothing the average person would care to notice.
But what was the point of these photos? Were they a distasteful prank? Some kind of petty revenge? Or was there a deeper motive? It felt personal. Someone clearly had a grudge, and these photos were just the start. The imperfections weren't enough to prove anything, but they were enough to make people question. Enough to spark rumors that would tear Rena down, little by little, even if no one really believed the pictures were real.
Whoever took these shots wasn't looking for perfection. They were trying to plant a seed. A seed of doubt, of suspicion, something small but enough to start a fire. They didn't need to show the whole truth—just a glimpse, just enough to stir the pot. Maybe it was a joke to them, maybe they just didn't like her, or maybe it was something more, a way to take her down socially. Whatever the reason, the damage had already begun. The photos were already circulating. People would talk. Even if they didn't believe it, the whispers would still spread. And that was the real danger.
But how do I find this person? Could I track them down? Maybe. But even if I did, what would it change? These photos weren't meant to be airtight evidence; they weren't meant to tell the truth. They were just designed to make people wonder. And in the world we lived in, wondering was enough to create a narrative. The rumors would keep circulating, no matter who was behind it. Even if I confronted the person, even if I proved it was a fake, the damage to Rena's reputation was done.
Once the seed was planted, it had a way of growing all on its own, no matter what we did to stop it.
And what if this was all just the beginning? What if there were more photos out there? More rumors waiting to surface? What if someone was doing this just to watch it all fall apart, to see Rena lose the trust she'd worked so hard to build?
I closed my eyes for a second, telling myself to calm down. It wasn't like I had to solve everything right now. This wasn't my fight alone, and I wasn't going to figure out the whole picture in one go. I took a deep breath, shoving the phone back in my pocket and gathering my things. Class was starting soon, and I couldn't let myself get lost in this mess any longer.
I still had to face whatever was coming next, but at least for now, I could focus on class. One thing at a time.
The walk back to class felt longer than usual, my thoughts tangled as I replayed the photos in my mind. When I entered, most of the seats were already filled. My eyes instinctively sought out Rena, and I found her sitting near the window with Jee.
She looked... fine. Her usual calm expression gave nothing away, her focus seemingly on whatever Jee was saying. For a moment, I considered walking over, bringing it up, but the weight of uncertainty held me back.
How would I even start? Hey, someone's trying to ruin your reputation? No. That wouldn't work.
We were close, sure, but this wasn't just a casual conversation. This was serious, and every time I thought of approaching her, the words seemed to dissolve before they could form.
I settled into my seat instead, glancing her way a few times throughout class. She seemed unaffected, unbothered, as if the rumors hadn't reached her yet—or she was hiding it well. Either way, I couldn't tell.
As for the rest of my classes . I couldn't focus, my thoughts circling the same questions. Should I tell her? How would she react? What if bringing it up made things worse?
By the time we reached the lab for CR duties, my resolve hadn't solidified.
Rena and I sat side by side, the sound of typing filling the quiet space. I stole a glance at her. Her face was calm, her fingers moving steadily across the keyboard. If she knew, she wasn't showing it.
I was trying to act as normal as possible, keeping my focus sharp and my thoughts in check. But deep down, I couldn't shake the weight of what was unspoken between us.
Suddenly, she broke the silence. "Ashan," she said softly, almost hesitant, her voice cutting through the steady clatter of keys.
I kept my eyes fixed on the screen, my fingers pausing mid-typing for a brief second before resuming. "What is it?" I asked, my tone steady, almost detached. I couldn't bring myself to look at her. If I did, I wasn't sure I could keep pretending to act calm.
There was a pause, long enough to make me glance at the corner of my screen in restless anticipation. Then, in a voice quieter than before, she said, "It's about the photos…"
I didn't let her finish. The words spilled out of me, cutting her off. "I don't believe in that nonsense," I said firmly, still not looking at her. "I saw the pictures, and honestly, the person who made them sucks. They're sloppy, obvious fakes. So don't worry about it—I'd never doubt you."
The silence that followed was different this time. Heavier, perhaps. I could feel her gaze on me, lingering. My chest tightened, but I forced myself to finish typing the line on my screen, grounding myself. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"You… you mean that?" she asked, her tone wavering slightly.
I took a deep breath, letting the tension in my shoulders release. This time, I turned to face her. Slowly. Purposefully. I met her gaze, my resolve solidifying as I looked her in the eye.
"Yes, but I've been waiting," I said, my voice steady, though my heart was anything but. "For you to tell me that yourself."
Her hazel eyes widened, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words. Then, just as suddenly, she looked away, her hand brushing against her cheek. That's when I noticed it—her eyes welled up with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
"Don't…" she said softly, her voice catching in her throat. "Don't look at me."
I froze, unsure of what to do. My mind scrambled, cycling through a hundred possibilities. Should I say something? Should I give her space? My hands twitched nervously on the desk as I racked my brain, but nothing felt right. All I could feel was this gnawing need to do something—anything—to make her feel okay.
Before I could second-guess myself, I moved closer to her. Slowly, tentatively, I placed a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened for a moment, caught off guard, but didn't pull away. Taking a deep breath, I leaned down, slipping my arms gently around her. It wasn't a full embrace, more like a half-hug, my arm resting lightly on her back as I guided her head to rest against my chest.
She tensed briefly, and then her shoulders sagged as if all the weight she'd been carrying finally let go. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she said, "Ashan… what are you…"
I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering above her hair. Then, as naturally as I could manage, I began to stroke her hair softly, my fingers running through the strands in slow, calming motions. "I don't really know what I'm doing," I admitted, my voice awkward but earnest. "But… my mom used to do this for me when I was anxious or overwhelmed. It always made me feel like… like things would be okay."
She didn't respond immediately. I felt her inhale sharply, her breath trembling as though she was fighting back a flood of emotions. Her head stayed nestled against me, her presence fragile yet grounding. After a moment, I mustered the courage to ask, "Am I crossing the line?"
She shook her head, her hair brushing against my chest. "No," she murmured, her voice muffled but firm. "You're not."
I smiled faintly, the relief washing over me as I tightened the hug ever so slightly. "It's okay," I said gently, my voice steady, as if willing the words to seep into her. "Everything's going to be alright."
For a moment, it felt like the world outside the lab didn't exist. It was just us, I didn't know if this was enough, but in that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. And as her breathing steadied and the tension in her frame ebbed, I hoped she felt it too.
After a while, I felt her breathing steady against me, the tension in her body slowly ebbing away. She didn't pull away, but her voice came soft and low, breaking the fragile silence. "It's just… I thought if I stayed strong enough, it wouldn't matter. That it would all go away."
Her words were unsteady, like they had been locked inside for far too long. I didn't interrupt, letting her speak at her own pace. Little by little, she opened up, shedding the weight she had been carrying. Her tough exterior began to crack, revealing the vulnerability underneath. She spoke about the photos, the whispers, and the pressure she felt to keep everything bottled up. Each word came out like a small exhale, releasing the storm she had been fighting to keep within.
I listened intently, nodding occasionally, offering quiet reassurances when her voice faltered. I didn't try to fix anything just yet—I just wanted her to know that she didn't have to face this alone. For once, she wasn't trying to be tough or put on a brave face. She was just… herself.
After what felt like hours but couldn't have been more than thirty minutes, the weight between us felt lighter. She managed a small, almost shy smile as she sat back, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Thanks," she said, her voice still soft but more steady now. "For listening. And… for everything."
I gave her a small smile in return, trying to keep things light. "Anytime. Though I'd appreciate it if we could avoid emotionally intense lab sessions in the future. My heart can't handle it."
That earned a tiny chuckle from her, and for the first time, I felt the room wasn't so heavy anymore.
We decided to wrap up our work early. As we stepped out into the cool evening air, the tension between us had dissolved into a quiet understanding. I walked her halfway home, our conversation much lighter now, punctuated by comfortable silences.
When we reached the spot, she turned to me, her expression softer than I'd ever seen. "You didn't have to do all this, you know."
"I know," I replied, my voice steady but firm. "But I wanted to."
She hesitated, as if weighing her words, and then gave me a nod. "See you tomorrow, Ashan."
"Yeah, See ya" I said, watching her walk away until she disappeared around the corner.
As I turned to head home, the weight of the evening settled over me, but it wasn't unwelcome. If anything, it steeled my resolve. No matter the consequences, I was going to fix this. Whatever it took, I would see this through—not just for her but because I couldn't bear the thought of her carrying this alone anymore.
With that thought anchoring me, I made my way home, my mind already piecing together the next steps.