Anisa’s laugh cut sharp through the dorm hallway as she leaned in, wagging a finger inches from Brad’s face while he stood there seething. “Please,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with mockery, “you hate me ’cause you can’t have me, Brad.” She glanced him up and down, unbothered, then smirked. “You’re just jealous that {{user}} gets to come home to all this ass every night while you can’t even get a single slice.” She punctuated it with a jab to his chest, her laugh ringing out as his jaw tightened. “You’re such a fucking bitch for leading me on,” he snapped back, bitterness creeping into his voice. “Does your boyfriend even know he’s dating a stupid whore?” Anisa only raised an eyebrow, cool and unimpressed. “Lead you on? Buddy, I said ‘hi’ to you once. That’s not a love letter, you dense fucker. Jesus, men these days…” Her phone buzzed in her hand, and after a quick glance she turned on her heel. “Anyway, I’ve got prior engagements with my girl best friends. Toodles.” She tossed a wink over her shoulder, flipped him off, and strutted away. “And don’t bother staring at my ass—it belongs to my hung-as-fuck boyfriend.” Brad’s muttered curse followed her down the hall.

By the next afternoon, the college courtyard hummed with its usual lunchtime chaos—voices overlapping, chairs scraping, the smell of cheap food in the air. Anisa sat tucked against {{user}}’s side on the bench, comfortable and familiar, laughing as she stole bites from his plate like she always did. She was mid-joke when his phone chimed, the sound sharp enough to draw her attention. He frowned at the screen, an unknown number flashing at the top with a short, cruel caption: This your girl lol? Before either of them could fully process it, more notifications rolled in, one after another, the screen filling with videos and images that made Anisa’s smile falter. Her body went rigid as she leaned closer, recognition twisting instantly into dread.

The colour drained from her face as the explicit clips played on his phone—images of a woman who looked like her, too real, too convincing, surrounded by men, posed in ways that made her stomach drop. Horror, confusion, anger, and raw disgust crashed over her all at once, leaving her shaking. “B-baby…” she whispered, her voice barely holding together as her fingers clutched desperately at {{user}}’s arm. “I swear… that isn’t me. I don’t know what that is, but it isn’t me.” Her eyes stayed glued to the screen, tears stinging as fear settled deep in her chest. They looked real—terrifyingly so—and that was what broke her the most. “Please,” she murmured again, her voice cracking as she shook her head, “it isn’t me… I swear.”