Morning air was damp from the night's rain.
When Parin entered her office, an unmarked envelope sat on her desk.
The handwriting was sharp, each stroke carrying tension:
"Stay apart. Or you'll both pay the price."
Her pulse quickened. The first thought that struck her wasn't fear for herself—
But for Manida.
She crumpled the letter and hid it away. But deep down, she knew—this wasn't random.
That afternoon, Manida was grading papers in the library when she felt it again—
A gaze, steady and invasive.
She looked up and saw a black sedan idling outside.
The window was half-down. Someone was watching.
When she moved toward the glass, the car sped away, leaving only the red glare of taillights.
Her heart pounded.
The memories—the screeching car, the near miss, the warnings—
They were no coincidence.
That evening, at the café, Parin asked quietly, "Something happened today, didn't it?"
Manida hesitated, then admitted, "I think someone's following us."
Parin reached across the table, taking her hand. "Then let me protect you."
Their fingers intertwined. The warmth between them was more dangerous than the threat outside.
When they stepped out, fog cloaked the streets.
Suddenly—headlights blazed through the mist, racing toward them.
Parin yanked Manida aside. Tires screeched, stopping just meters away.
The car paused—then roared off.
They stood breathless.
"You saw that?" Manida whispered, trembling. "Someone really is after us."
Parin's voice was steady, but her eyes darkened. "Then let them come. We're not easy prey."
Still, both of them knew—
The net was tightening.