---
Putri hastily shoved the books back onto the library shelf. The video she had just seen had completely shattered her mood for studying. Fear coiled inside her chest—not from the threatening WhatsApp message of that mysterious stranger, but from the possibility that the false news might spread across campus.
If that rumor reached the ears of her classmates, if it leaked into every gossip circle, her reputation would collapse in an instant. Worse, her mother's pride—everything Putri had fought to preserve—would crumble just because of some petty, malicious scheme.
If I ever find out who's behind this… I'll make them regret it! she swore in her heart, glaring at the phone screen that still displayed the stranger's profile.
Bayu walked beside her, concern etched across his features. As they exited the library, he finally spoke, his voice cautious but firm.
"What are you going to do now, Put?"
Putri sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging. "I don't know, Bay. If this gets out… I'm finished." Her voice trembled, betraying her panic.
But deep inside, she had already made up her mind: I have to find Putra. He must know who's behind this. There's no way someone could impersonate his fiancé without him knowing something.
"You should just go to class first," she told Bayu after a pause. "I need to clear my head and figure out a way out of this mess."
Bayu clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "Alright. But if Putra or his friends try to mess with you again, you call me. I swear I won't hold back."
Putri managed a faint nod, then turned and walked away.
---
She wandered through the campus grounds, her steps restless, eyes scanning every corner. But no matter where she went, Putra was nowhere to be found.
Until her feet carried her to a deserted corridor that led to an old storage building at the edge of campus.
That was when she froze.
A voice reached her ears. Familiar. Undeniable. Putra's voice.
But something was different. The tone was harsh, strained, laced with fury unlike anything she had ever heard from him.
Putri pressed herself against the wall, inching closer to the building. Her breath caught as she realized she could hear him clearly now.
"If it weren't for your uselessness as a husband… my mother wouldn't have died like that!"
Putri's eyes widened. Shock pierced her heart like ice. Is he… talking to his father?
"I never asked you to meddle in my life!" Putra's voice rose again, raw with emotion. "Since that day, I've considered you dead to me!"
A loud crash followed—PRAK!—something shattered violently inside. Putri flinched, her pulse racing. She crept toward the dusty window and carefully peered through a narrow gap.
What she saw silenced her completely.
Putra stood alone inside the storage room, his back pressed against the wall, head bowed low. At his feet lay a phone, its screen shattered into pieces. He must have hurled it in anger—after ending a call with his father.
Then, the sound came. Not a quiet sniffle, not a subtle breath. No.
It was sobbing.
Loud, broken, and agonizing.
Putra's shoulders shook violently, his voice breaking with grief that he could no longer suppress. The boy who had always worn a mask of cold indifference, who moved like a shadow no one could touch—he looked fragile. Shattered.
For the first time, Putri saw him not as a mystery, not as an untouchable figure, but as someone human. Someone carrying scars deeper than he allowed anyone to see.
Her chest tightened. The image burned into her mind.
But before she could process it further, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor. Putri's heart lurched—Rangga and Cristian were approaching fast.
Panic seized her. She staggered back from the window, her mind scrambling for an escape. But in her haste, her shoulder clipped a stack of boxes near the wall.
BRAK!
The boxes tumbled loudly to the ground, the sound echoing like thunder.
"Who's there?!" Putra's voice boomed from inside, sharp as a blade.
Putri's blood turned to ice. She spun on her heels and bolted down the corridor, her breath ragged, heart slamming against her ribs.
Inside, Rangga and Cristian rushed in just as Putra stormed out of the storage room, his eyes sharp and demanding.
"Relax, Put. It's just us!" Rangga spoke quickly, raising his hands.
Cristian nodded in agreement. "Yeah, no one else is here."
Putra quickly wiped at his face, erasing any trace of tears. His cold, impenetrable mask returned in an instant, as if nothing had happened. He scanned the hallway with a piercing gaze.
"Before you got here," he asked, his voice cutting, "was anyone else around?"
Both Rangga and Cristian shook their heads firmly. "No. We're the only ones."
Putra's eyes narrowed. His attention flicked toward the fallen boxes near the window. "Did you knock those over?"
They exchanged a glance, confused, then shook their heads again.
Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating.
Putra clenched his jaw, his suspicion sharpening into anger. His mind raced. If it wasn't them… then who the hell was it? Who dared to spy on me?
His hands curled into fists.
Whoever it was… if I find them… they'll regret ever laying eyes on me.
---
Meanwhile, far away in the shadows, Putri leaned against the wall of another building, gasping for breath. Her chest heaved, her heart pounding so violently she feared it might give her away even from a distance.
She had escaped. Barely.
But she had seen too much. Heard too much. A secret that Putra clearly wanted buried in silence.
And though she was safe for now, dread gnawed at her.
Because if Putra ever discovered that it had been her—that she was the one who had witnessed his breakdown…
Then nothing would protect her from the storm that would follow.
---