Chapter 3: The Unfinished Game
Aria couldn't sleep. The message haunted her.
"You think it's over? It's just beginning."
The words replayed in her head like a broken record, each repetition fueling the anxiety creeping up her spine. She sat up in bed, staring at the dim glow of her phone. The group chat was still open.
Zayn: We need to meet. Tomorrow. No delays.
Nadia: Agreed.
Imran: Fine. But we're not meeting anywhere public.
Aria: My place. 7 PM.
No one argued. They were all thinking the same thing: if someone was watching them, they couldn't risk being seen together somewhere random. At least at Aria's apartment, they had some control.
She locked her phone and exhaled, trying to push the fear down. But deep inside, she knew—this wasn't over.
---
The next evening, Aria paced her small living room, glancing at the time. 6:55 PM.
A knock at the door. She opened it to find Zayn standing there, dressed in all black, his face tense.
"Hey," he said, stepping inside.
"Hey."
Nadia arrived next, her hoodie pulled low over her face, her lips pressed together in an unreadable expression.
Imran was last. He hesitated before stepping in, scanning the hallway behind him as if expecting someone to be lurking in the shadows.
As soon as the door shut, Aria didn't waste time. "Who else got the message?"
They all nodded.
"I got it last night," Imran admitted. "Same wording as yours."
"Me too," Nadia whispered. "I deleted it immediately."
Zayn pulled out his phone and placed it on the table. "I didn't delete mine."
The group leaned in. The message was there, bold and undeniable.
Unknown Number: You think it's over? It's just beginning.
Imran exhaled sharply. "Do we respond?"
"No," Zayn said firmly. "That's what they want. They want us to react. We don't give them that."
Nadia crossed her arms. "But who even is 'they'? Bilal's crew? Someone else?"
Silence.
Then Imran spoke. "What if it's Samir's family?"
The air in the room shifted. None of them had spoken much about Samir's parents after the funeral. They had disappeared from public eye, mourning in silence. The idea that they might suspect something… that they might know…
"It doesn't make sense," Aria said. "They would go to the police, not send cryptic threats."
"Unless they don't want the police involved," Zayn muttered.
Imran shook his head. "I don't think it's them. This feels different. It's like—whoever sent this wants us to know we're being watched."
A chilling realization settled over them.
They weren't just dealing with ghosts from the past.
Someone, somewhere, was waiting for them to make a move.
And they had no idea what the next move was supposed to be.