Paparazzi

Present

The next two weeks pass in a blur of exhaustion.

My schedule becomes a monster that swallows me whole. Between script readings, costume fittings, and late-night filming, I barely have time to sleep, let alone think about cryptic threats. Haru is just as busy with the restaurant preparations for the new season. We pass each other in the hallway like ghosts. A quick touch on the arm. A tired smile over morning coffee. That is all we get.

We do not talk about the stalker.

Mostly because the stalker goes silent. No messages. No threats. Just a heavy, suffocating quiet that feels worse than the noise.

Then, on a Tuesday night, the silence breaks.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Riverwalk Park. Under the bridge. Midnight. Or I release the video.

I show the message to Haru. He is already pulling on his shoes.

Ten minutes later, we get a text from Rie. She and Abby got the same message.

We agree to meet there.

Midnight in Tokyo is never truly dark, but the Riverwalk is deserted. The streetlights reflect on the black water like spilled oil. The air is damp and cold. I pull the hood of my oversized black sweatshirt lower over my face. We decided on disguises. Black hoodies. Masks. Anything to blend into the shadows.

I spot two figures standing near the concrete pillar of the bridge.

Rie looks tiny in her dark coat, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Even in the dim light, I can see the anxious sparkle in her eyes. Beside her, Abby leans against the pillar. His height gives him away immediately despite the hat pulled low over his blonde hair.

We approach them. The gravel crunches loudly under my sneakers.

“You guys look like a budget heist crew,” Abby whispers as we get close. His voice is muffled by his mask, but the sarcasm is clear.

“This is not the time for jokes,” Haru says. He scans the perimeter, his dark eyes sharp and calculating. He stands close to me, his body angled to block the wind. “Did anyone see you come here?”

“No,” Rie says, her voice trembling slightly. “I took a taxi to the station and walked the rest. I made sure no one was following me.”

Abby crosses his arms over his chest. “So. We are here. Where is our mysterious friend?”

I look around. The park is empty. A stray cat darts between the bushes. The wind howls through the metal beams of the bridge above us.

“I do not like this,” I whisper. A shiver crawls down my spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Why would they call us here? It is too open.”

“Intimidation,” Abby suggests. “They want to show us they can make us jump whenever they say jump.”

“Or,” Haru says slowly, stepping forward. “They wanted us all in one place.”

Rie looks at him. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it,” Haru continues. His voice drops lower. “The four of us. Together. At midnight. Wearing suspicious clothes. Hiding our faces.”

My stomach drops.

“It looks like a secret meeting,” I say.

Before anyone can respond, a blinding light tears through the darkness.

Flash.

I flinch, shielding my eyes.

Flash. Flash. Flash.

It is like lightning striking the ground over and over again.

Shouting erupts from the bushes.

“Over here! I got them!”

“Is that Aurora and Rei?”

“Haru Takahashi is with them!”

Dozens of people swarm out from behind the trees and parked cars. Cameras with massive lenses. Phones held high with flashlights on. Microphones thrust in our direction like spears. It is an ambush.

“Run,” Haru commands.

He grabs my hand. His grip is tight, grounding me when my legs want to give out.

“To the cars! Go!” Abby shouts. He grabs Rie by the back of her hoodie and steers her away from a cameraman who gets too close.

“Have you been friends this whole time?”

“Was the rivalry fake?”

“Did you lie to the public?”

The questions overlap into a wall of noise. The flashes are disorienting. I stumble, but Haru pulls me forward. We sprint toward the parking lot. My heart hammers against my ribs like a trapped bird.

We dive into our car. Haru slams the door and locks it instantly.

Abby and Rie scramble into Abby’s sedan parked next to us.

“Go, go, go,” I plead, watching the wave of reporters running toward our windshield.

Haru revs the engine. He reverses sharply, tires screeching against the asphalt, and spins the car around. We speed out of the lot, leaving the chaos behind in a cloud of exhaust.

My hands are shaking. I pull off my mask and gasp for air.

“They knew,” I whisper. “They tipped them off.”

Haru’s jaw is clenched tight. His knuckles are white on the steering wheel. He drives with terrifying precision, weaving through the late-night traffic until we are certain no one is following us.

"Call Rei and tell them to come to our place"

Thirty minutes later, we are sitting in our living room. The curtains are drawn tight. The lights are dim.

Rie sits on the sofa, knees pulled to her chest. She holds a cup of water with both hands. Abby paces back and forth by the window, running a hand through his messy blonde hair. His usual charm is gone, replaced by a frantic energy.

“Do not look at social media,” Haru warns, walking in from the kitchen.

But it is too late. I already have my phone in my hand.

It is everywhere.

Articles spread faster than truth ever could.

BREAKING NEWS: SECRET FRIENDSHIP EXPOSED AFTER YEARS OF LIES

AURORA, HARU, ABBY, AND RIE CAUGHT IN SECRET MIDNIGHT MEETING. 

PUBLIC FOOLED BY FAKE FEUD

I scroll down to the comments.

user882: I knew it! They played us for fools.

drama_queen: They pretended to hate each other for 5 years just to get ratings? That is sick.

tokyo_fan: They were popular rookie actors for a reason.

idol_hater: Rie acts so innocent but she is the biggest liar of them all.

“They are spinning it,” I say, my voice hollow. “They are not saying we reunited. They are saying we scammed the public.”

Abby stops pacing. He looks at me, his eyes dark and serious.

“Of course they are. That is the narrative the stalker wanted. If we are friends, we are liars who manipulated our fans for fame. If we are enemies, we are petty and unprofessional. There is no winning move.”

Rie makes a small, choked sound.

“My manager is calling,” she whispers, staring at her phone on the coffee table. It buzzes angrily against the wood.

“Mine too,” Abby says. He silences the call and tosses his phone onto the couch.

My phone rings. It is my agency.

Haru’s phone rings a second later.

The room fills with the sound of ringing. It is a chorus of disaster. We sit there, frozen, while the devices scream for our attention. We have been set up perfectly. The stalker did not just want to expose our secrets. They wanted to destroy our credibility first.

“If we tell the truth now,” Haru says quietly, staring at the floor, “no one will believe us. They will think it is just damage control.”

I feel a tear slide down my cheek. I wipe it away angrily.

Then, the ringing stops.

For a second, the silence returns.

Ping.

We all jump.

It is a message. Not from our managers.

I pick up my phone. My fingers feel numb.

UNKNOWN NUMBER: Did you enjoy the spotlight? I told you. You cannot hide in the dark forever. This is just the opening act.

I look up. Haru is reading the same message. Rie is pale. Abby stares at the screen, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“What do we do?” Rie asks. Her voice is barely audible. “We cannot tell our companies the truth about the fire. We cannot tell the public. We are trapped.”

Abby picks up his phone again. He looks at the message, then at us. His eyes shift from warm to intense, a flicker of his dangerous intelligence coming to the surface.

“We stop reacting,” Abby says. “We stop running.”

“How?” I ask.

“If they want a show,” Haru says, turning back to us, “we give them one. But we write the script.”