After a long walk across campus, Racheal and Erica finally reached the main gate. They exchanged a brief look, silently acknowledging that some things had shifted between them, though not everything was healed. With a faint smile, Erica squeezed Racheal's hand once before heading toward her hostel.
Racheal stood for a moment, watching her go, then adjusted her bag strap and walked in the opposite direction.
By the time she reached her own hostel, exhaustion weighed heavily on her shoulders. She slipped into her room, closed the door, and sank onto her bed. The mattress dipped beneath her as if inviting her to let go, but her mind refused to quiet.
She lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, replaying the whirlwind of the past weeks—Margaret's cold stares, the prank video, Professor Carter's warning, Erica's betrayal, and above all, Mr. Unknown's haunting presence. His smirk. His words. His laughter.
And now—her name.
A sharp ache settled in her chest. For so long she had thought coming here would mean freedom, new opportunities, a clean slate. Instead, it felt like a storm she couldn't escape.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table. She reached for it, grateful for the distraction.
"Jenny," the screen lit up.
A small smile tugged at Racheal's lips. Jenny—her friend from Ghana, the one person who still felt like home. She answered quickly. "Hello?"
"Ei, Racheal Addison!" Jenny's familiar voice rang through the speaker, full of playful energy. "So you forgot about me, eh? You've gone abroad and now you don't even call your best friend?"
Racheal laughed softly, a little shaky but genuine. "Oh, please. You're the one who hasn't called me in weeks."
Jenny clicked her tongue. "Excuses. Anyway, how are you? Tell me everything. Don't pretend you're fine—I know you too well."
Racheal hesitated, then sighed. "It's been… a lot, Jenny. More than I expected. People here… they've been spreading things about me. Bad things. And there's this guy—"
Jenny's voice instantly grew sharper. "Guy? Hmm. Say that again."
Racheal rolled onto her side, cheeks warming though no one could see. "It's not like that. He's… complicated. He keeps showing up everywhere, and…" She trailed off, unsure how to explain the fear threaded through every encounter with him.
Jenny, however, burst into laughter. "Ah! So you see, you do like someone. Abroad has changed you, Racheal! You left Ghana single and now you're blushing on the phone. Ei!"
Racheal sat up, frowning. "Jenny! I'm serious. It's not what you think."
But Jenny only laughed harder. "Mmhmm. I know you. When you start defending yourself like this, it means there's fire somewhere. Just admit it—the guy likes you, and you like him small-small too."
Racheal pressed her palm over her face, groaning. "Jenny…"
Jenny giggled. "Don't worry, I won't expose you. But let me advise you—if he makes you restless, if he makes you think about him when he's not there, that's a sign. That's how love begins."
Inside, though, Racheal's chest tightened. Jenny thought this was a game, a harmless crush. But she didn't know the truth—the way his smirk made her skin crawl, the way his laugh followed her like a shadow, the way he said her name today as if it were a secret he wasn't supposed to know.
"I'm serious," Racheal said quietly. "This isn't love. It's… something else. Something I can't explain."
Jenny's teasing softened a little, though amusement still colored her voice. "Fine, fine. Don't tell me everything if you don't want to. But I know you, Racheal. You always act like you're strong, like nothing can touch you—but the fact that you're even bringing this guy up to me means he's already in your head. Whether you like it or not."
Racheal bit her lip. Jenny was right about one thing—he was in her head. Too much. But not in the way Jenny thought.
She closed her eyes, lying back down, letting Jenny's voice wash over her. It was comforting, even if her friend didn't understand the danger. For a moment, it almost felt like she was back in Ghana, safe, laughing over silly crushes and harmless gossip.
But she wasn't in Ghana anymore.
And this wasn't harmless.