The next morning didn't feel like morning.
It felt like waiting.
Amy barely tasted her toast. Chloe sat opposite her, elbows on the table, staring at nothing. Jamie stood by the counter, phone in his hand like it might explode.
Mrs Carter noticed.
"You three look like you've revised for an exam that doesn't exist," she said lightly.
"Just tired," Jamie replied quickly.
Mrs Carter studied them for a second longer than usual — then let it go.
The door clicked shut behind them five minutes later.
Cold air hit Amy's face.
"Tell her?" Chloe asked under her breath.
"Not yet," Jamie said.
Not yet meant this was bigger than she wanted it to be.
They didn't speak again until they reached the corner past the bus stop.
Jamie finally stopped walking.
He turned his phone toward them.
"I stayed up last night," he said. "Looking at the post from the new account. The one that said 'Draft three was better.'"
Amy's pulse picked up.
"It was deleted," she said.
"Yeah," Jamie replied. "But not before I ran it through an archive site."
Chloe blinked. "You can do that?"
Jamie ignored her.
"I couldn't trace the account directly," he continued. "But I checked something else."
He swiped.
A screenshot filled the screen.
A cropped corner of the anonymous profile page.
Amy frowned. "That's just blank."
"Look closer," Jamie said.
In the top corner of the image — barely visible — was a tiny circular icon.
Default grey silhouette.
Underneath it, faint text.
R.W.
Amy's breath stalled.
"That doesn't prove anything," Chloe said quickly.
"It might," Jamie replied. "When someone sets up a new account fast, sometimes the auto-generated display initials pull from a connected email."
Amy felt her heartbeat in her throat.
"Rowan West," she whispered.
Chloe shook her head. "Loads of people have those initials."
Jamie nodded. "True, but like you said before it's strange the initials have the same letters as Rowan, his sister was the first to be targeted and according to Amy it didn't end well and now the same thing is happening to Amy plus isn't it strange that in the writing club Rowan decided out of anything to write about a password."
He zoomed in further.
"And the account was created at 6:02 p.m. yesterday."
Amy's mind raced.
Writing club ended at 5:50.
Five-minute walk home.
Five-minute window.
6:00 p.m.
Her stomach dropped.
"That's when we left," she said.
"And he stayed behind for a minute," Chloe added quietly.
Amy replayed it.
The stairs.
The pause.
Be careful who you trust.
Her skin prickled.
"It could still be a coincidence," she said, but her voice lacked conviction.
Jamie's jaw tightened.
"There's more."
Amy looked at him.
"The account password recovery email was partially visible in the archive," he said. "It started with 'r.w_' and ended with '08'."
"08?" Chloe echoed.
"Year 8," Amy breathed.
Rowan had said that's when it started for his sister.
Jamie nodded once.
"It looks like someone made the account to reference that."
Silence pressed in around them.
Chloe crossed her arms. "So either someone is framing Rowan..."
"Or," Jamie said carefully, "it leads to him."
Amy's thoughts spiralled.
Rowan writing about passwords.
Rowan watches her reactions.
Rowan saying his sister's edits started small.
Rowan being early to writing club.
Rowan stayed late.
Proximity.
Five minutes from her house.
Five minutes from the café.
Five minutes from the post being uploaded.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"He wouldn't," she said — but it sounded more like a question.
Chloe looked at her gently. "You don't know that."
Amy swallowed.
Rowan's face flashed in her mind.
The way his hands had shaken when he talked about his sister.
The way he'd said she didn't leave and then finished.
The way he'd asked if she thought he did it the day before.
Maybe that hadn't been defensive.
Maybe it had been testing.
Or maybe it was his way of saying, it was me all along.
"Why would he tell me about his sister if he was behind it?" Amy asked quietly.
Jamie didn't hesitate.
"To control the narrative or to let you know he is behind everything."
The words hit harder than she expected.
Because it made sense.
If he introduced the story first —
If he positioned himself as connected but not responsible —
If he watched her reactions —
He could stay ahead of her.
Chloe exhaled slowly. "So what do we do?"
Jamie looked between them.
"We don't accuse him."
"Then what?"
"We watch," he said.
At school, Rowan was leaning against the maths block wall again.
Same spot.
Same posture.
Like yesterday hadn't shifted anything.
He looked up when he saw her.
Smiled faintly.
"Morning."
Amy forced herself to smile back.
Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure he could hear it.
She noticed something she hadn't before.
His phone case.
Clear plastic.
A small white sticker inside it.
Two letters written in black ink.
R.W.
Her breath caught.
He followed her gaze.
Casual.
Too casual.
"Cool, right?" he said, tapping the case. "My sister made it."
Amy's pulse spiked.
Her mind screamed coincidence.
But Jamie's screenshot burned behind her eyes.
R.W.
6:02 p.m.
08.
Rowan tilted his head slightly.
"You okay?" he asked again.
The same question.
The same tone.
But now it feels different.
Now it felt like he was measuring her.
Checking for a crack.
Or checking for any sign that she knew something.
Amy held his gaze.
"I'm fine," she said evenly.
A beat passed.
Then he added, almost absentmindedly, "You should change your passwords."
Her stomach dropped.
"I already did."
"Again," he said. "Rotate them. Patterns repeat."
Patterns repeat.
He smiled — small, unreadable.
And for the first time, Amy noticed something else.
His phone screen lit briefly with a notification.
Just for a second.
Long enough for her to catch a fragment at the top:
Draft_3_final.docx — synced
Synced.
Her lungs forgot how to work.
He locked the screen too quickly.
Too smoothly.
"You coming?" he asked.
Amy nodded, forcing her legs to move.
It could be nothing.
A coincidence.
A similar file name.
A completely different document.
But as she walked beside him toward the entrance, one thought pulsed steadily beneath her calm expression:
If this was a set-up —
It was meticulous.
And if it wasn't —
Then Rowan wasn't just close to the mystery.
He was inside it.