"Some secrets are buried not to be hidden, but to protect the pieces of what's left."
Aska never liked late nights at the library, but here he was—again—the last to leave, the last to pretend he still had control.
The ticking of the old wall clock echoed like a countdown. Midnight. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, white and sterile, like the silence between people who no longer knew how to talk. His laptop screen glowed dimly against the stack of worn textbooks and half-finished notes. The spreadsheet of grades was open, mocking him with numbers that no longer made sense.
He rubbed his eyes. 3.38 GPA. Just barely enough. One more drop, and the scholarship that carried him this far would evaporate—just like his father's promises.
Across campus, Ara's dorm window was also lit. Her fingers moved rapidly across the keyboard, rewriting her thesis for the third time this week. Her phone buzzed, but she didn't even glance. Distractions were for people who could afford to fail. She wasn't one of them.
She had already mapped out the next five years of her life—top graduate, international scholarship, and eventually, escape. Escape from the whispers of her relatives who said she got in because of connections, not brains. Escape from a mother who cried every time Ara brought home a grade that wasn't perfect.
Meanwhile, in a dark corner of the student IT lab, Said cracked his knuckles and typed a line of code. The servers were slower tonight. Maybe because it was the exam season, or maybe the system knew he was inside. Again.
His phone vibrated. A single message.
"You said you could get them. Tonight."
He stared at it for a moment, then minimized the firewall screen. He had done this before, many times. Small tweaks. Grade bumps. Nothing big. Nothing traceable.
But this time wasn't about tweaking.
This time was about survival.
---
"The only thing more dangerous than a lie is the person who needs it to be true."
Aluna sat in the psychology building's common room, alone. Her journal was open, a single sentence written again and again until the ink bled through the page.
"I am not a fraud. I am not a fraud. I am not—"
She stopped.
She hated this version of herself—the anxious, shaky, sleepless version. But the girl everyone else saw? She was perfect. A scholar. A role model. No one saw the panic attacks. No one knew she hadn't told her parents her midterm scores. They wouldn't understand. They'd just say she wasn't praying enough.
The pressure was crushing. So when Said whispered the idea in her ear—when he said "We can fix this"—she didn't protest.
Because she wanted it to be fixed. No matter how.
---
The file was named harmlessly: "Final Evaluation Template."
But when it was opened, inside were exam answers. Student records. Faculty logins.
The kind of information that could ruin everything.
Or save them all.
The plan was simple. Said would retrieve it. Ara would make it disappear in the system. Aska would stay clean—he was the only one who could talk their way out if things went wrong. And Aluna? She was the balance. The one who made sure they didn't lose their humanity.
But something cracked.
Someone sent the file.
Not to delete it.
Not to protect them.
But to expose them.
The next morning, the dean's office was locked down. Security logs were flagged. The IT team pulled all access records.
Whispers spread.
A breach.
A betrayal.
The four of them were called in, one by one.
Not friends.
Not allies.
But now—co-conspirators.
---
"Trust is a currency more valuable than truth—and far easier to counterfeit."
Aska looked across the table at the other three. The silence was louder than any accusation. He knew it in his gut.
One of them had broken the pact.
And everything was about to fall apart.
---