That evening, the house was quiet except for the soft hum of the ceiling fan in Sofia's bedroom. The dim light from her laptop screen was the only illumination, casting a blue glow across her face. Naomi's face blinked into view on FaceTime, her messy hair pulled back in a loose ponytail and her eyes wide with excitement.
"So, you actually did it?" Naomi asked, voice low and conspiratorial.
Sofia glanced at the screen, fingers flying across the keyboard. "Yeah. I used Harper's Instagram — all public stuff. Picked the best photos, the ones she posts to make herself look all elegant and mysterious. No one's going to question it."
Naomi grinned. "And the name?"
"Clara." Sofia paused, testing the sound of it aloud. "Thirty-four, sophisticated, emotionally available. I made the bio vague enough to sound real but not so much that anyone can guess it's fake."
A soft notification chimed.
"Already getting messages," Sofia said, smirking. "This one's different."
She clicked the message.
IanKeller_83: "There's something familiar about you. I don't usually do this, but… I'd really like to talk."
Naomi leaned closer to the screen. "Ooh. Mysterious guy number one. What's he like?"
Sofia read the profile quickly: mid-thirties, works in publishing, from their city but traveled a lot. His photos were mostly of bookstores and landscapes.
"Poetic," Sofia said softly. "He's not just throwing out cheesy lines. He actually seems… interested."
Naomi smirked. "You sure this isn't getting to you?"
Sofia's smile faltered just for a moment before she shook her head. "No. It's just a game. A way to prove Harper isn't perfect."
Naomi looked unconvinced. "You sure you can keep this up? Because once you're in, it gets messy."
Sofia ignored her. She was already drafting a reply.
Clara: "Maybe familiar means you've been looking for someone like me. What's your story?"
As she hit send, Sofia felt a thrill that surprised her. It wasn't just about Harper anymore. It was about control—showing her dad and everyone else that she was still in charge of her life, even if everything else felt like it was falling apart.
Days passed, and the profile of "Clara" blossomed like a secret garden. Messages came in from men of all kinds—some shallow, some desperate, some charming in their own awkward ways—but none matched the quiet allure of IanKeller_83.
Sofia answered carefully, cultivating a persona that was warm but reserved, interested but elusive. It was a balancing act. If she was too eager, it would look fake. Too cold, and no one would engage.
Harper's face haunted her thoughts more than she expected. Sofia hated how easy it had been to mimic her online presence. How well Harper hid behind that poised exterior.
And yet—there was a strange pang of something she wasn't ready to name. A flicker of doubt. What if Harper wasn't the villain Sofia had imagined?
One Saturday afternoon, Naomi's face popped up again on Sofia's phone.
"You're obsessing," Naomi teased. "You know this can blow up, right?"
Sofia shrugged. "I'm careful. No one will ever know it's me."
Naomi shook her head. "You're not just playing with Harper. You're playing with fire."
Sofia's jaw tightened. "She took my family. My home. I'm not the one playing with fire."
The words hung heavy in the air, and Naomi didn't argue.
But the deeper Sofia got into her deception, the more complicated everything became.
IanKeller_83 wasn't just a user who wanted a quick flirt. He was thoughtful, insightful. He asked questions that made Sofia pause: about life, family, trust.
One evening, he sent a message that unsettled her.
IanKeller_83: "You're running from something, Clara. I can see it. But you don't have to do it alone."
Sofia stared at the screen, her heart hammering in a way it hadn't in weeks. She typed back, fingers trembling.
Clara: "Maybe I don't know how to stop running."
She hit send and sat back, the room suddenly feeling too small.
Meanwhile, Harper's world remained oblivious.
She went about her days with that practiced grace, preparing meals, tending the house, smiling at Jacob with a softness Sofia always envied. But even Harper had her secrets—moments when her mask slipped, when the loneliness pressed in around her.
One evening, Jacob mentioned the anniversary trip they were planning.
"I want it to be perfect this year," he said, holding Harper's hand. "For all of us."
Harper smiled, but there was something tired behind her eyes.
Back in her room, Sofia wrestled with her own turmoil. Her plan was working too well.
Messages piled up. "Clara" had become more than a fake profile—she was a persona, a mask Sofia was slipping behind.
She wondered what her mom would think if she saw her now.
The girl who smiled politely at Harper, who accepted pancakes and rides to school, was gone. In her place was a girl willing to lie, to manipulate, to break the family she once loved.
And yet… she told herself it was necessary.
For her dad. For her family.
For herself.
That night, as Sofia shut her laptop and the screen went dark, one message awaited her:
IanKeller_83: "Let me in, Clara. I want to help you heal."
Sofia stared into the blackness, heart pounding with a new, terrifying possibility—that maybe she was the one who needed saving.