Chapter 2: A Glimpse of Something More
Anifah sat in the quiet library, glancing across the table at Ammar, who was completely absorbed in his notebook. It wasn’t the first time he’d spaced out during their project discussions, and it was starting to get under Anifah’s skin.
"Hey," she said, tapping the edge of the table. "Earth to Ammar. You with me?"
Ammar blinked and looked up, startled. "Sorry. What were you saying?"
Anifah frowned. "I was asking if we should split the coding tasks, but you were... somewhere else."
Ammar shrugged, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I was just... thinking."
"About what?" Anifah pressed, curiosity piqued.
For a moment, it looked like Ammar might actually answer, but instead, he shook his head. "Nothing important. Let’s focus on the project."
Nothing important? Anifah thought. Ammar’s evasiveness only made them more curious.
---
Later that Day
As the school day ended, Anifah packed up her things, still thinking about Ammar. Something about him didn’t add up—the way he always seemed lost in thought, the guarded look in his eyes.
On her way out of the library, she spotted him standing near the courtyard, talking to someone Anifah didn’t recognize. The conversation looked intense, Ammar gesturing sharply while the other person, a tall boy with a serious expression, seemed to be pleading with him.
Anifah paused, trying to stay out of sight. Ammar rarely spoke to anyone outside of class, so this was unexpected.
The conversation ended abruptly, and the other boy walked away, leaving Ammar standing alone. He glanced around, and for a split second, his eyes met Anifah’s.
Anifah’s heart skipped a beat. She quickly turned and pretended to check their phone, but the damage was done. Ammar had seen her watching.
---
The Next Morning
When they met for their project session, Ammar was quieter than usual. He barely spoke, and when Anifah asked about the previous evening, he brushed it off.
"I saw you talking to someone yesterday," Anifah said casually, trying to sound uninterested. "Everything okay?"
Ammar froze, his pencil hovering over his notebook. "It’s fine," he said after a moment, but his tone was clipped.
"Are you sure?" Anifah pressed. "You seemed... upset."
Ammar glanced at them, his expression unreadable. "Why do you care?"
The question caught Anifah off guard. Why did she care? She barely knew Ammar, but something about him made her want to know more.
Before she could answer, Ammar stood up, grabbing his bag. "I have to go," he said quickly. "We’ll talk later."
Anifah watched him leave, frustration and curiosity swirling inside her. What’s he hiding?
Later That Evening
Anifah couldn’t stop replaying the day’s events in her mind. Ammar’s abrupt departure, his cryptic behavior—it didn’t add up. She tried to focus on their homework, but the thought of his guarded expression lingered.
Out of curiosity—or maybe sheer stubbornness—she opened her phone and began searching for any information about Ammar. His social media was sparse, just a few old photos of landscapes and random quotes.
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But one post caught her attention. It was an image of a sketch: a lone figure standing under a crescent moon. The caption read, "Some things are best left in the dark."
Anifah frowned. What did that mean?
---
The Following Day
When Anifah arrived at the library for their next session, Ammar was already there, staring out the window. He looked lost in thought again, but this time, there was a heaviness in his expression that hadn’t been there before.
"You okay?" Anifah asked, sitting down across from him.
Ammar startled slightly but recovered quickly. "Yeah, why?"
"You just... seem off. And yesterday, you left in such a hurry," Anifah said carefully, not wanting to push too hard.
Ammar hesitated, then sighed. "I’ve just got a lot on my mind. It’s nothing to worry about."
Anifah wasn’t convinced. "If it’s nothing, why do you keep brushing me off? I’m not trying to pry, but if we’re going to work together, maybe I could help."
For a moment, Ammar looked like he might say something, but then he shook his head. "I appreciate it, but it’s not something I can talk about."
Before Anifah could respond, the librarian approached with a stack of books. As she set them on the table, one of the books accidentally knocked Ammar’s notebook onto the floor.
"Sorry!" she said, hurrying to pick it up.
"It’s fine," Ammar said quickly, reaching for the notebook, but Anifah’s eyes caught sight of something as it fell open on the floor—a detailed sketch of the same crescent moon and figure from his social media post.
"Wait," Anifah said, pointing at the drawing. "That’s... really good."
Ammar’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and unease. "It’s nothing. Just something I draw when I’m bored."
But Anifah wasn’t buying it. There was a precision to the sketch, a depth of emotion that hinted at something far more meaningful.
"Why do you hide this?" Anifah asked softly.
Ammar hesitated, then muttered, "Because some things aren’t meant to be shared."
Before Anifah could press further, Ammar stood abruptly. "I need some air," he said, grabbing his bag and walking out.
As Anifah watched him leave, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Ammar’s secret wasn’t just about his art—it was something deeper, something that might change everything if she found out.
Later That Night
Anifah couldn’t get the thought of Ammar out of her mind. Everything about him was a puzzle—his withdrawn nature, the mysterious sketches, the strange conversations that left more questions than answers. But it wasn’t just the project anymore. Something about him was different, and Anifah couldn’t help but feel that she was being pulled into something deeper than she'd ever imagined.
As she lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling, Anifah reached for her phone. The light from the screen flickered as she opened her social media app, scrolling through random posts without purpose. But then—something stopped her.
A new notification appeared, a message from an unknown number. She hadn’t recognized the number before, but the message left a cold chill running down her spine.
"You don’t know the whole story about Ammar. Stay away from him, or you might regret it."
Anifah’s heart hammered in her chest. Who was this? What did they mean? There was no name, no further context. Just a warning, a threat wrapped in mystery.
Before she could think, her fingers moved to reply, typing out the first thing that came to mind.
"Who is this? Why are you texting me about Ammar?"
But before she could hit send, the screen went black.
Anifah stared at her phone in confusion. Had the message been deleted? Her finger hovered over the screen, tapping it, but it remained unresponsive. She tried to open the conversation again, but the app crashed. In a rush of panic, she powered the phone off and back on. The message was gone. Not just the message—the whole conversation. Nothing remained.
Anifah’s breath quickened as she glanced nervously around the room. What the hell was going on? How had the message vanished so quickly? Her mind raced, trying to process it all. But before she could even form a coherent thought, the phone buzzed again.
This time, it wasn’t a message. It was a notification from an anonymous user on a school forum. Anifah opened it, and her stomach dropped.
A blurry photo. It was taken in the school courtyard—the same one where they’d seen Ammar talking to the other boy the day before. In the picture, Ammar was standing in the shadows, looking over his shoulder, as if he knew someone was watching. The other boy, the one who had been speaking to him, was standing just out of frame, but there was something unsettling about the angle of the shot. It felt staged.
The caption read:
"Some secrets can destroy you."
Anifah felt the blood drain from her face. The image sent a shiver down her spine. What had Ammar gotten himself into? Who had taken this photo—and why did it feel like it was meant for them?
Before she could even process the implications, her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t a message. It was the school’s security alert app—nothing unusual, just the usual daily reminders. But when Anifah went to clear the notification, she noticed something odd. A second notification popped up almost immediately, a direct link to the school's security footage from that very courtyard, marked as "Private."
Why would security be sending her footage?
She clicked the link, her fingers trembling, and the video played automatically.
In the footage, Ammar and the other boy were standing just outside the school gates, their faces barely visible in the dim light. Anifah watched, frozen, as Ammar reached into his bag and handed the boy something—a small, flat object, wrapped in paper.
The video cut off abruptly, the screen going black.
A wave of confusion and fear hit Anifah all at once. She had no idea what she’d just seen, but one thing was clear—there was more to Ammar than she'd ever imagined. And she was getting too close.
Suddenly, a knock at the door echoed through the quiet of the room.
Anifah froze. The sound of her own heartbeat seemed deafening in the silence. Who could be at the door at this hour?
She glanced at her phone—no new messages. No missed calls. Only the unsettling, cryptic images and videos. The knock came again, louder this time.
Swallowing hard, Anifah stood up slowly, her hand trembling as it reached for the door handle.
To be continued
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