Selene's POV
The weight of the video still pressed against my ribs like a bruise I couldn't stop pressing. I hadn't brought it up yet—not directly. But the silence between us was starting to throb with unspoken things. Antonio had noticed. His eyes lingered longer. His hands hesitated before reaching for mine. Still loving, still warm—but careful.
Too careful.
We were curled up on the couch, the evening dim around us, Paris glowing beyond the glass. I turned to him, brushing my fingers against his arm.
"Antonio?"
He looked at me, soft as ever. "Hmm?"
"If… if you were telling me the truth all along… then what about your ex?" My voice barely rose above a whisper. "Why did you choose her over me back then?"
He went still. Not defensive—just… still. Like the air itself was listening in.
"I didn't choose her," he said slowly. "I chose fear. I chose what was easy. What wouldn't hurt anyone. But not what I wanted."
I swallowed. "But that video—"
He leaned in, brushing a thumb across my cheek. "I know. And I'm going to explain. Everything. But… not yet. Just give me a little more time."
My chest tightened, but I nodded. "Okay. But I need you to know—it hurts. Not knowing."
His arms wrapped around me like a shield, and we stayed like that. Quiet, together, but still miles from the truth.
Ayra's POV
I held my phone close, the screen dimmed as I slipped into the underground parking lot.
The contact—an old university classmate of Antonio's who now worked in digital security—had finally agreed to meet. He said he had found something buried deep. Something strange about the footage. Something that didn't add up.
I walked fast, my heels echoing.
If what he hinted at was true… that video wasn't just edited. It was planted.
And whoever did it wanted Selene to walk away.
But why?
The elevator doors slid open. The man stood waiting in the shadows, laptop tucked beneath his arm. His eyes were wary, like he knew just how deep this went.
"I hope you're ready for the truth," he said.
I took a breath. "More than ever."
Ayra's POV
The warehouse-turned-tech den smelled faintly of solder and coffee. Cables snaked across the floors like nervous veins. My contact, Julien, motioned me toward a desk piled with monitors and blinking drives. He looked over his shoulder, voice low and cautious.
"I ran the metadata checks on the video you sent me," he began, pulling up a grainy pause frame of Antonio with that girl—his so-called ex—kissing him while he looked away. "See here?" He zoomed in, and my breath caught.
The timestamp flickered with two different encoding layers.
"One version was shot months before Selene ever saw it," Julien explained. "But someone spliced it with recent footage to make it look fresh. Antonio's clothes were duplicated digitally. His face, too—enhanced with AI masking tech. This is deepfake software. The expensive kind."
I clenched the desk's edge. "So… it's fake?"
"Not all of it. The background is real. The girl was real. But Antonio's presence—it was digitally inserted."
My stomach turned. "Then who… who would go to such lengths?"
He turned his screen, revealing a server tag. The location pinged back to a private company. One that used to be owned—by Victor Donatelli's firm.
My pulse froze.
Victor. That smug snake. The man who had always slithered near Selene, with too-smooth compliments and too-long stares.
"Julien, I need this," I whispered. "Everything you have. This might be the piece that saves two people I care about."
He nodded. "It's yours. But be careful. Whoever did this—didn't just want to hurt your cousin. They wanted to destroy her faith."
Selene's POV
I sat outside the clinic after my shift, phone in hand, heart heavier than my bones.
A message from Ayra buzzed onto the screen.
> "Sel… I need to talk. Urgent. Come home."
The weight in her words was different this time. Tense. Rushed.
I grabbed my bag and began walking faster, unaware that this was the moment everything would change. Not just for me and Antonio, but for every lie, every silence that had once tried to break us.
Selene's POV
The evening air was unusually still as I walked into our apartment. Ayra stood by the window, phone in hand, face pale and pinched. She didn't even smile when I entered—just held up a flash drive.
"What's that?" I asked, dropping my bag.
"Proof." Her voice cracked. "Of everything."
She plugged it into the TV. For a moment, all I heard was the quiet hum of the fan, then the screen flickered to life.
It was the video.
The one I'd watched months ago. The one that haunted every quiet hour, whispered doubts in my ear, stole the ground from under me.
Antonio. That girl. That kiss.
But then the footage paused—and split.
Julien's edits revealed it frame by frame. Antonio's figure—digitally altered. The shadows didn't match. The reflection in the window didn't align. The timestamp? Forged.
My chest tightened. "This isn't real…"
Ayra's voice was shaking. "He never cheated, Sel. Antonio was telling the truth. Victor—he manipulated the footage. He owns the tech company that made it. This was his game."
My breath hitched.
"I saw the way Victor looked at you," Ayra whispered. "He was obsessed, Sel. He thought if he could break you two up, maybe he'd have a chance. It's twisted, and vile… but now, he's exposed."
I sank onto the couch, heart hammering.
Antonio hadn't betrayed me.
He had been protecting me all along.
And I'd doubted him.
A tear slipped down my cheek, warm and sharp.
The door burst open.
Antonio.
Disheveled, breathless, eyes locked on mine.
"I came as soon as Ayra called—"
I didn't let him finish. I ran into his arms, burying my face in his chest as sobs tore from somewhere deep. His arms closed around me instantly, fiercely.
"I'm sorry," I cried. "I should've trusted you—"
"No," he whispered, holding me tighter. "You were hurt. Lied to. But I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
Ayra watched us, her own eyes glistening with relief. "Victor's already being investigated. Julien turned in the proof to cybercrime officers. We're going to make sure he never comes near you again."
At that moment, everything began to fall back into place—not perfectly, not without scars—but with truth.
Antonio kissed my forehead gently. "You're safe now, firefly. Finally… you're safe."