The next day, an unknown number popped up on Aurora's phone.

Lately, she'd been dealing with delivery services and moving companies, so she answered—only to hear Marco's voice.

"Come get your stuff from my place. If you don't, I'll toss it. And..."

He hesitated, tempted to ask why she'd blocked him. But no—she was just playing hard to get. If he pushed, she might think she still had a chance and start clinging again.

What he didn't expect? Aurora's completely indifferent response.

"Got it."

Then she hung up. Just like that.

Like he was nothing.

Marco stared at his phone, unreadable.

Sofia, noticing, leaned in. "Marco, the interview's tomorrow. I'm so nervous. What if Ms. Diaz holds a grudge and tries to ruin my chance?"

Marco snapped back. "No one's messing with the interview. Just focus on proving yourself."

Sofia nodded, resting against his chest, but her eyes? Ice cold.

***

Aurora reached Marco's apartment building and stepped into the elevator, glancing at the time. She mentally ticked off what she needed to grab.

Then the lights flickered.

The smooth ascent jolted. The car shuddered.

Her body went rigid. Maybe it was nothing—

But fate had other plans.

Another flicker. Then a sharp pop.

Total darkness.

Aurora's breath hitched. A cold tremor ran through her.

Locked in a kindergarten classroom as a kid, she'd been claustrophobic ever since. Tight spaces with no way out? Her chest would tighten, her pulse would skyrocket, and if she was stuck too long—pure, suffocating panic.

But even with terror clawing at her throat, she forced herself to act. She slammed the emergency button.

"Hello? The elevator's broken! Someone needs to send maintenance—"

The response wasn't a technician.

It was Marco. Cold. Unyielding.

"You're staying put until Sofia's interview is over. Don't bother struggling. I'll let you out when it's done."

Aurora's blood ran cold.

Even an idiot could see what was happening.

Marco had locked her in.

He thought she'd try to compete with Sofia for the spot with Professor Serrano—so he took the easiest way out.

But he knew. He knew what this would do to her.

"I'm not even in the selection! Let me out!" Aurora pounded on the doors, forcing down the panic clawing at her throat.

"Nice try. You've been making too many moves lately. Time you learned a lesson."

He didn't believe her.

And then—he cut the line and walked away.

Aurora pounded on the doors, fists aching, but the only response was Marco's footsteps fading into the distance.

Then—silence.

Total, suffocating darkness.

She hugged herself, but it did nothing to stop the trembling.

Cold seeped into her skin, slow and merciless, like sinking underwater—dragging her down, crushing her beneath the weight of fear.

***

Marco made sure no one would fix the elevator anytime soon, then headed off to wait for Sofia's interview results.

But as he sat there, Aurora's voice echoed in his mind—desperate, raw.

He'd never seen her like that before.

It unsettled him.

Finally, Sofia walked out, pale as a ghost.

"Marco... I didn't get selected. I failed. What do I do? Am I useless? Am I worthless?"

Tears streamed down her face, her whole body shaking.

Seeing her so fragile, Marco felt his chest tighten. In that moment, Aurora vanished from his thoughts.

He pulled Sofia into his arms, murmuring reassurances. Wanting to lift her spirits, he took her home, bought all her favorite foods, and stayed by her side until she finally calmed down and fell asleep.

By then, it was late.

Only then did it hit him—Aurora was still in that elevator.

His stomach lurched.

He moved to leave, but Sofia, half-asleep, clutched his shirt. "Marco... where are you going? Are you leaving me? Don't go... I'm scared..."

He hesitated.

Aurora's situation flickered in his mind—just for a second.

Then he pushed it aside.

Sofia needed him.

So he stayed.

***

Aurora had no idea how long she'd been trapped.

By the time someone finally noticed the malfunction and pried the doors open, she was barely conscious from lack of air.

They rushed her to the hospital. The doctors said she was stable, but she'd need to stay under observation.

Yet even as they reassured her, the sound of her own pounding heartbeat roared in her ears, drowning out everything else.

Then—her phone buzzed.

A message from an unknown number.

A video.

Marco, holding Sofia, soothing her to sleep.

The scene was peaceful. Sweet, even.

Aurora's breath hitched.

Because while they were wrapped in quiet comfort, she had been caged like an animal, left to suffocate.

A fresh wave of rage surged through her already hazy mind.

Fingers shaking, she typed.

[So, you locked me up and still didn't get picked? Useless.]

She didn't wait for a reply.

Blocked. Immediately.

But even after that, her pulse stayed erratic, her breathing uneven.

No matter how hard she tried, the panic wouldn't fade.

A nurse eventually noticed and gave her a sedative, forcing her into sleep.

But even unconscious, the suffocation only got worse.

In her dream, she was drowning.

Struggling. Gasping for air—

Aurora's eyes snapped open.

And in the darkness, a pair of cold, ruthless eyes stared back at her.

Marco's jaw was rough with stubble, his bloodshot eyes locked on her. His grip tightened.

Aurora's heart nearly stopped. For a second, she thought he might actually choke her out. She fought with everything she had.

The struggle wasn't subtle. In the end, he let go, but the pure hatred in his eyes stayed.

Gasping, she clutched her aching neck, hands shaking.

"Still playing the victim?" His voice was cold, raw with something deeper. "What did you say to Sofia? She was so distraught she slit her wrist. She's in the hospital, fighting for her life!"

Aurora almost laughed.

"What did I say? The truth. She wanted you to lock me up like that would fix everything, but it was all for nothing. Tell me I'm wrong."

Brutal. Marco's face flickered between red and pale. He remembered exactly what he'd done.

But then he pictured Sofia in that hospital bed, wrist slit, and his gaze went ice-cold. "If you hadn't trashed Sofia to Prof. Serrano and ruined her shot at the competition, I wouldn't have had to go that far. And that was my decision, not hers.

"Go apologize to Sofia. Explain everything to Prof. Serrano, and I'll let this go."

Aurora just laughed.

If anything, she thought maybe—just maybe—he'd feel the slightest bit guilty.

But this?

She laughed until her eyes burned with tears.

"What's so funny?"

Marco frowned, clearly pissed.

"That you actually think I care what you want." She wiped the corner of her eye, her expression turning to stone. "Apologize to her? In your dreams."

Her fingers tightened around her phone. "Now get out of my hospital room. Or I call the cops."

His jaw flexed like he was about to argue—then his phone rang. He picked up, and whatever he heard made his face go pale.

"She tried to hurt herself again?"

Without another word, he bolted.

Aurora watched him go, her whole body finally unclenching as she slumped back onto the bed.

Her neck throbbed where he'd grabbed her—a burning, ugly reminder. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Her eyes flicked to her plane ticket. Maybe she should just leave early. Without hesitating, she called the Fremoran dance troupe to see if she could move up her flight.

Mid-call, a message popped up from an unknown number.

[Go to Prof. Serrano and clear up the misunderstanding about Sofia. Or else, you'll regret it.]

Aurora frowned.

Luckily, the dance troupe agreed—she could arrive ahead of schedule. Exhaling, she blocked the number and deleted the message.

She was leaving Santora soon. No more Marco. No more Sofia. No more of their messed-up games.

Closing her eyes, she tried to rest, but sleep refused to come.

Her night was restless, twisted with fragmented, bizarre dreams. Then, the relentless buzz of her phone yanked her awake.

Another message. This time from a number way outside the city.

[You homewrecker. You keep stealing other women's men—do you even know how to survive without one?]

Aurora blinked, disoriented. Before she could react, her phone glitched, lagging under a flood of similar texts.