Chapter Ten – The Pressure Cooker
The next morning, Zara woke to the shrill buzz of her phone. Half-asleep, she grabbed it, expecting another venomous message.
But it was Daniel.
> Daniel: I'm coming over today. Don't argue.
Her heart slammed. Daniel at her place? Her tiny, under-furnished apartment—the one she had worked so hard to keep him away from? No staged lighting, no designer furniture, no curated perfection. Just Zara, stripped bare.
She jumped out of bed, frantically scanning the room. The peeling paint, the sagging couch, the mismatched dishes in the sink—everything screamed "fraud." She had less than two hours to hide the life she really lived.
By the time Daniel knocked, Zara had shoved piles of clothes into closets, sprayed the air with cheap perfume, and lit every candle she owned. She opened the door with a practiced smile.
"Babe," Daniel greeted, kissing her cheek. His eyes swept the room, curious but unreadable. "So… this is home."
Zara forced a laugh. "Yeah, well, I don't exactly host people here. It's my private corner."
Daniel nodded, but his gaze lingered on the cracks she couldn't hide. He didn't comment, though. Instead, he set a paper bag on the counter. "I brought breakfast. Thought we could talk properly."
The word talk sent a tremor through her. She busied herself pouring juice into glasses, praying he wouldn't press too hard.
They ate quietly until Daniel finally spoke. "Zara… last night, when your phone buzzed, you looked terrified. Who was it?"
Her fork froze mid-air. She tried to smile. "Just a brand manager being annoying. Nothing serious."
Daniel studied her. "You're lying."
The words hit like a slap. Zara's throat tightened.
"Daniel, please…" she whispered, but he leaned closer, his voice soft yet firm.
"Zara, I care about you. But if you can't trust me, what are we doing?"
Before she could answer, her phone vibrated violently on the table. Both their eyes snapped to it. The screen lit up:
Unknown Number: Five days. Tick-tock.
Daniel's jaw hardened. "Who is that?"
Zara's breath caught. For a second, she considered telling him everything. But fear—the same fear that had driven her into this fake life—choked her silent.
"It's nothing," she croaked. "Just spam."
Daniel pushed his chair back slowly, his expression clouded with hurt. "If you say so. But secrets have a way of burning everything down."
He stood, kissed her forehead, and left. The door clicked shut, leaving Zara in a silence so heavy it crushed her chest.
Her phone buzzed again. She lifted it with trembling fingers.
Unknown Number: Nice boyfriend. Shame if he found out the truth before you tell him yourself.
Zara's scream tore through the empty apartment.