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.

The messages didn't stop. Same nasty accusations—homewrecker, gold digger. Some took it even further, twisting the truth, claiming she was selling herself. A few straight-up asked how much she charged.

Her face burned. Her hands shook. It felt like every ounce of blood had rushed to her head.

Breathe. Stay calm.

She pulled up a search engine. The top trending topic hit her like a punch to the gut.

A blog post.

From Sofia.

In her carefully spun story, she and Marco were childhood sweethearts. Marco had once helped Aurora out of kindness, but instead of being grateful, Aurora had set her sights on him.

She knew he had a girlfriend but still clung to him, hoping to climb the social ladder. But Marco never wanted her. When she failed to seduce him, she turned on Sofia.

Desperate to drive her away, Aurora spread lies to a professor, sabotaging Sofia's chances in the competition. The betrayal crushed Sofia—so much that she spiraled into despair and slit her wrist.

Attached was a photo of Sofia's wounded wrist—a deep, bloody gash against pale skin. The image, paired with her words, sent the internet into a frenzy.

The comment section exploded with outrage. Hate poured in fast.

Sofia had included just enough details for people to track down Aurora's social media. Within minutes, someone dug up old performance photos, zoomed in on her face, and plastered it everywhere.

Her profile was overrun. A few harmless posts about her daily life were now drowning in vile insults.

Then, it got worse.

Netizens flooded her school's official accounts, demanding her expulsion for being "morally corrupt."

Then came the real nightmare.

Someone dug up her phone number and ID, unleashing a new wave of harassment. Her private info spread like wildfire. Rumors morphed into something uglier. Her photos were edited into explicit images, plastered across shady sites.

Aurora's hands shook as she scrolled through the filth.

She fired off a statement, denying everything and vowing to prove the truth.

Big mistake.

The mob only got nastier.

Then, a new post surfaced—her supposed location. Someone claimed she was at a hospital. Not for an injury. For an STD. And the internet ate it up.

A chill shot down Aurora's spine.

Suddenly, the hospital felt like a trap.

She had to get out. Now.

She rushed to leave, yanking open the door—

And was slammed to the ground.

"You filthy woman! If you hadn't seduced me, my family wouldn't have fallen apart!"

The furious voice cut through the hallway, drawing gasps from onlookers.

Then—a sharp slap. Pain exploded across her cheek.

Aurora staggered, heart pounding. She looked up—

And froze.

Diego.

The man who had once tried to assault her.

The nightmare she thought she'd buried had just come back to life.