Andrew's footsteps echoed lightly against the pavement as he made his way back home. His chest still felt weighed down by those words in the diary—Don't let her die. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake them off.
He kept thinking about Grace. Her smile. The way she always stood up for him when no one else did. He could still hear her voice in his head, firm and protective: "You don't know him like I do."
That moment had changed something inside him. He knew it.
Now, turning onto his street, Andrew's mind was a mess of questions. What was he supposed to do? How was he even supposed to know if Grace was in danger? He didn't have evidence, only some creepy warning from a diary. But his gut told him the words were serious. Real.
Andrew pressed his lips together, deep in thought.
"Should I… follow her?" he muttered under his breath. "If I keep an eye on her, maybe I'll notice if something's wrong."
But the thought immediately made him uneasy. Following her everywhere? That would just make him look like some kind of creep. Worse, if Grace herself found out, she'd hate him for it.
He shook his head. "No. That's basically stalking. I can't."
He slowed his steps, staring at the ground as he thought harder. Another idea hit him: her house. Maybe he could hang around near her home, just to see if anything odd was happening.
But again, he dismissed it just as quickly. That was no better. What if people saw him hanging around outside her place? He'd look suspicious as hell. And what would he even say if someone asked? That his diary told him Grace was going to die? Nobody would buy that.
Andrew let out a frustrated sigh. He needed something smarter. Something less risky.
That's when a name popped into his head: Sophia.
Grace and Sophia were close. They talked about everything. If anyone knew what was really going on with Grace, it would be her. Maybe she could help.
Without overthinking it, Andrew pulled out his phone. His hand trembled a little as he scrolled down to her contact. He hesitated, but only for a second, before hitting the call button.
It rang once. Twice. Three times.
"Hello?" came Sophia's voice.
"Sophia, it's me," Andrew said quickly.
"Oh. Andrew." She sounded a little surprised.
"Yeah, uh… I just wanted to ask if you know anything about Grace. Like, has she mentioned anything weird lately? Anything wrong with her?"
Sophia was quiet for a moment. "Wrong? What do you mean?"
"I don't know," Andrew admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice softened. "It's just this feeling I have… like something's off. You two talk all the time. Has she said anything at all to you?"
"No," Sophia said slowly. "Not really. At least not recently."
Andrew dragged his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Please, Sophia. You're closer to her than I am. Maybe she'd tell you something she wouldn't tell me. If you notice anything… could you let me know?"
There was silence for a few seconds before she answered, her voice calm but carrying this faint sadness. "Alright, Andrew. I'll try to find out. I'll talk to her."
"Thank you," Andrew said quickly, relief hitting him like a breath of fresh air. "Seriously, thank you."
When the call ended, Andrew lowered his phone, feeling a little lighter. At least now he wasn't completely alone in this. Sophia would help.
But on the other end of that call, Sophia just stared at her phone long after the screen went dark.
Why is he so worried about Grace? she wondered. Why does he sound so desperate?
Her chest tightened. Maybe the answer was obvious—Andrew cared about Grace. Maybe more than he even realized.
Sophia bit her lip hard. She had always hoped, somewhere deep inside, that Andrew would one day notice her. She had stayed by his side, listened when he spoke, been patient. But if his heart was already leaning toward Grace… then what chance did she have?
The thought stung more than she wanted to admit.
A memory drifted back to her—a moment from her childhood, sitting on her grandfather's lap. She could still hear his steady, comforting voice:
"If you ever feel something in your heart, tell that person. Keeping it locked inside only makes the pain heavier. Once you speak it, you'll feel lighter, no matter what happens next."
Sophia closed her eyes. His words echoed inside her.
Maybe it was too late. Maybe Andrew's heart already belonged to Grace. But even so, she didn't want to keep hiding her feelings. She wanted to be honest with him, even if it changed nothing.
Her hands clenched into fists.
"I'll tell him," she whispered to herself. "No matter what. I'll confess."
For the first time in a long time, she felt strangely calm. She wasn't going to let fear silence her anymore.
Meanwhile, Andrew had reached home. He climbed the stairs to his room, his head full of thoughts—Grace, the diary, Sophia's promise to help. It all tangled together in his mind.
He sat at his desk, staring at the notebook in front of him. The same words glared back at him:
Don't let her die.
Andrew snapped the book shut, his jaw tightening. He couldn't just sit here and wait. He needed a plan. The problem was… he didn't know what that plan should be. He wasn't a detective or a hero. He was just a student. What did he really have besides determination?
But sometimes, determination had to be enough.
Leaning back in his chair, he decided: until Sophia found out something, he'd stay sharp. He'd keep his eyes open. Nothing suspicious would escape him.
Suddenly, a knock broke his thoughts.
"Andrew?" It was his father's voice.
Andrew straightened. "Yeah?"
The door creaked open and his dad stepped inside. His face looked serious, almost heavy with something Andrew couldn't place.
"I have something to tell you," his father said quietly.
Andrew frowned. "What is it?"
His father hesitated, looking between him and the floor, like he was searching for the right words.
"This is important," he finally said, his voice low. "Something I should've told you a long time ago."
Andrew felt his stomach twist. The room suddenly felt smaller, like the air itself was pressing in on him.
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully.
His father drew in a slow breath, his jaw tight. Finally, he began—