The room was very still.
Marcus held the photo between them, his hand steady, his face unreadable. Dorian's eyes locked on the image—him and Priya, kissing.
He has a photo—of the second meeting. The one nobody should know about.
His mouth opened. Closed. Marcus waited.
"It's—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat, forced himself to breathe. "It's not what it looks like."
Marcus didn't move. "What does it look like?"
What does it look like? It looks exactly like what it is. Say something. Anything.
Dorian's pulse hammered in his ears, but he kept his face still. "It's from before. Before you and Priya were… whatever you are. We hung out a few times. It didn't mean anything. We're just friends now."
Marcus's jaw tightened. He turned the photo over.
On the back, in handwriting Dorian didn't recognize, two words: she's mine.
"What about this?" Marcus tapped the writing. "She's mine."
A knot pulled taut in Dorian's stomach. He stared at the handwriting. Not his. Not Priya's. Someone else's.
"Come on, man, that's not even my handwriting."
Marcus's eyes flicked up. "You're saying someone else took this photo, wrote this, and sent it to me?"
"I'm saying I didn't write that." Dorian kept his voice steady. "Where did you get it?"
Marcus didn't answer. He looked at the photo again, then at Dorian. The silence stretched.
"If it was nothing," Marcus said slowly, "why is she ending things with me?"
The pulse in Dorian's throat was a fist. She already told him.
"She said she wanted to talk tonight," Marcus continued. His voice was flat, controlled, but his knuckles were white around the photo. "Said she's been confused." He looked at the image again, then at the writing on the back. "Now I know why."
He folded the photo carefully, tucked it into his pocket.
"I'm going to ask her. If you're lying, I'll know."
He walked to the door. Paused with his hand on the knob.
"You should tell Sarah," he said without turning around. "Before someone else does."
He left.
The door clicked shut.
---
Marcus walked down the hall, the photo crumpled in his pocket. His hands were shaking. He didn't know if it was anger or something else. He stopped. Leaned his forehead against the cold wall. Closed his eyes. When he opened them, his reflection in the window looked back—face blank, but something behind it was breaking.
He kept walking.
---
Dorian stood frozen, his breath shallow. His ribs seemed to close in.
He grabbed his phone.
---
Priya answered on the second ring. "Hey, I was about to text you—"
"Marcus has a photo of us kissing in the park. He just confronted me."
"What?" Her voice sharpened. "How did that happen? Who took that?"
"I don't know. But he has it."
"How do photos of us just keep popping up? Is someone following us?" Her voice was rising. "Dorian, what's going on? Shippo, this is getting crazy."
"I don't know." He pressed his palm against his forehead. "I told him it was from before. Before you and Marcus were serious. You need to stick to that story when he asks."
"Before we were serious?" A pause. "He's going to ask when. He's going to want details."
"Then give him something. Just—make it believable. If he thinks it happened while you were together—"
"He'll what? Be hurt? He's already hurt, Dorian. I was going to end it tonight."
"Not like this." His voice cracked. He forced it steady. "If he thinks you were cheating, he won't just be hurt—he'll be angry. He'll tell people. He might tell Sarah."
The line was quiet. He could hear her breathing.
"You want me to lie to him."
"I want you to protect yourself. And me." He swallowed. "Please, Priya. Just tell him it was before. That it was nothing. We can figure out the rest later."
A long pause. Then: "Fine. But I'm still ending it. I'm not going to pretend I want to be with him."
She hung up.
---
Dorian sat on his bed. The dorm was empty. No Tyler, no Kyle, no Marcus. Just the weight of the silence pressing against his chest.
He replayed the confrontation in his head. The photo. The words on the back. She's mine. Someone had sent it. Someone wanted Marcus to see it. Someone wanted this to happen.
System: 5C active. 4 days remaining.
He texted Sarah before he could think about it.
Dorian: Thinking of you.
Her reply came fast.
Sarah: Same. Can't wait to see you ❤️
He stared at the heart. She's still here. Barely. One wrong move and she's gone.
Guilt coiled in his stomach, tight and hot.
The screen lit up again.
Unknown: Nice save. But Marcus isn't stupid. Let's see how long the lie holds.
He didn't reply.
---
Half an hour later, his phone buzzed. Priya.
Priya: He came over. I told him what you said. He didn't believe me.
Dorian's pulse hammered in his ears.
Dorian: What did he say?
Priya: He said he needs time to think. Then he left.
Another buzz.
Priya: I'm not going to keep lying to him, Dorian. I'm ending it tomorrow. For real.
He stared at the screen. Every lie was turning into a trap.
Dorian: Okay.
He set the phone down.
---
The door opened. Tyler walked in, looking around theatrically, then closed the door behind him.
"I think someone's following me."
Dorian blinked. "What?"
Tyler lowered his voice. "A guy. In a hoodie. I've seen him before—like, earlier in the week. He's been outside for like ten minutes. Very suspicious." He pulled out his phone. "Might be a rival brand trying to steal our marketing strategy. I took a picture."
He held up the screen. The photo was blurry. A figure in a dark hoodie stood near the corner of the building, face hidden.
"We should set up a stakeout," Tyler said. "I'll get snacks. You bring the binoculars."
Dorian stared at the photo. His stomach dropped.
"It could be nothing," Tyler added, suddenly uncertain. "Right?"
Dorian didn't answer.
Tyler grabbed his headphones from the desk. "Okay, well, I'm gonna… keep an eye out." He hesitated. "You need anything? Emotional support? A BLIMP?"
"I'm fine."
Tyler looked at him a moment longer, then shrugged. "Okay. But if you need to talk, I'm here. I'm a very good listener. I can pretend to care for hours."
He left the room.
Dorian sat alone in the silence, the image of the hoodie figure burned into his mind.
---
His phone buzzed again.
Marcus: I want to talk. Tomorrow. Both of you.
His hands started shaking. The phone slipped from his grip, hit the bed, screen still glowing.
Another message appeared.
Unknown: Tick tock, boyfriend. How long before Sarah finds out?
He stared at the ceiling, the weight pressing down.
System: 5C active. 4 days remaining.
Then—a soft knock at the door. Three times. Deliberate.
[END OF CHAPTER 25]
---