She heard a soft click from inside.

And they’ll close the laptop. Slowly. And check their closet. Just in case.

The page flickered.

Mia’s heart hammered. It can’t be that easy, she thought. But she followed each step. Her fingers trembled over the trackpad. Delete.

But something was wrong.

Then the last post. A video. Lena whispering into her phone camera, looking over her shoulder: “If you’re seeing this, you used the inspect element trick. Which means you don’t trust me. Which means I was right not to trust you first.”

And then the doorbell rang. Mia never found out who—or what—was in the closet that night. Because she didn’t open it. She ran downstairs, out the front door, and didn’t stop until she reached the lit gas station three blocks away.