Thirty minutes staring at a page on thermodynamics and retained exactly three words.
Her mind kept circling back.
Not to the second note.
To the first.
You forgot again.
It wasn’t a random phrase. That’s not casual. It’s specific. Familiar.
Then it hits her.
Her novel. The one she submitted last week.
The working title was Forget Me Not.
It was a quote.
She opened her phone, scrolled to the draft of her manuscript.
Chapter One. Paragraph four. Line three.
"You forgot again."
Her pulse stuttered.
There were only two people who’d read that draft.
Zion.
And her.
Zion had helped edit it. Zion knew the plot, the title, the ending.
And now Zion was hiding something.
Afternoon lecture. Tobi walked in late. No seats left at the back.
Only one space. Beside him.
Lanre Oke.
She sighed internally and sat.
He didn’t glance at her. Just moved his bag a fraction. He flips the page of his jotter to continue taking notes.
A note slipped out.
He picked it up, looked at it once, and scowled.
"It was me that what?"
Tobi blinked. "Sorry?"
"Your stupid note."
He tossed it into her lap.
Folded once. Ordinary paper.
Her heartbeat thumped loud in her ears.
Lanre shrugged. "You’re failing miserably at being clever."
Tobi unfolded it.
The same strange lettering. Neat but slightly off, like someone trying to imitate neatness.
They’ll believe it was you.
She didn’t think. Just snatched it and crumpled it.
"Touchy," Lanre muttered. "It’s not my fault your handwriting looks like a serial killer’s."
After class, she scanned the crowd for Zion. Found her, laughing with someone up ahead.
Tobi opened her mouth to call—
Then remembered the second note.
Don’t ask Zion again.
Tobi watches her until she turns the corner.
Then she turned the other way.
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