Mabella stood in the shadows, hidden behind the wall near the school's side entrance, watching with cold detachment as a group of three girls emerged from the building, their laughter ringing through the air. Among them was Lydia, the girl that sent the love letter to HER Aiden. They walked together, chatting loudly, oblivious to the eyes tracking their every move.
Mabella reached into her pocket and pulled out a cigarette. She lit it with a quick flick of her lighter, the brief spark illuminating her face before fading into the dim evening light. Taking a slow drag, she inhaled deeply, feeling the bitterness of the smoke curl through her lungs. She exhaled just as slowly, watching the smoke swirl around her like a shroud of secrecy.
"Hmm… Lydia," she muttered, her voice barely audible beneath the low hum of students still milling around the gate. "She’s not as pretty as I thought."
Mabella’s eyes narrowed as she observed Lydia, her lips curling into a sneer. For a moment, she imagined walking straight up to her, grabbing her by the hair, and showing her exactly who she was dealing with. But no—there were smarter ways to handle this.
With a flick of her wrist, Mabella threw the cigarette to the ground, the glowing ember extinguishing itself on the pavement. She didn’t bother to finish it. There were more pressing matters at hand.
Without a second glance at Lydia and her friends, Mabella turned and slipped back into the school, her movements fluid and unhurried. The crowd of students continued to thin as she made her way deeper into the building, heading straight for the classroom where she knew Lydia sat every day. 
The classroom was empty when she entered. Desks sat in neat rows, bathed in the dim, fading light of the afternoon sun. Mabella’s eyes swept the room, her gaze falling on Lydia’s desk near the window.
Without hesitation, she approached it, her fingers brushing lightly over the surface. There was nothing particularly interesting about it—no notes left behind, no personal items that could be of use. It was just an ordinary desk. Mabella sighed, her lips pressing into a thin line. That’s sucks, I guess.
But it’s not like Lydia’s fate change. That girl is still unfortunate for daring to make a move to Aiden, for taking her belonging and for that shit love letter. She pivoted smoothly, her thoughts already moving ahead. Now, she is targeting the locker.
Her steps were light, almost soundless, as she made her way through the empty hallway toward the locker area. The school was nearly deserted by now, the faint sounds of the outside world growing distant as she slipped deeper into the building. There was no rush. Everything was unfolding exactly as she had planned.
The locker area was dimly lit, the shadows stretching long across the floor. Mabella walked with practiced ease, her steps measured and deliberate. This wasn’t her first time doing this. She had navigated these halls countless times, always one step ahead, always invisible when she needed to be. Tonight was no different.
Lydia’s locker was just a few steps away now, but Mabella didn’t approach it immediately. Her eyes flicked to the security camera mounted high in the corner of the hallway. It blinked steadily, following its usual pattern. She smirked. Too predictable.
With a calm, steady hand, Mabella pulled out her phone. A few quick taps, and the camera feed was hers to control. She had hacked into it years ago, just in case if it comes handy such as her situation now. The screen showed the live feed, but with another swipe of her finger, it looped back to an earlier recording—an empty hallway. To anyone monitoring the footage, the space was deserted.
Effortless.
Mabella slipped her phone back into her pocket and approached the locker with quiet confidence. She crouched down, her movements smooth and precise, no longer the shy, innocent girl she presented to the world. This was who she truly was—someone who thrived in the shadows, someone who knew how to get what she wanted.
With a polished set of lock-picking tools in hand, she selected the one she needed, her fingers moving with the ease of a professional. No trembling hands, no hesitation—just pure, steady confidence. She inserted the tension wrench into the bottom of the lock and slid the pick into the keyhole, her movements fluid, like she was solving a simple puzzle.
Click.
The first pin dropped, followed by the second. Each sound was soft, almost satisfying, like the quiet affirmation of her skill. She wasn’t worried about anyone hearing it—no one was around, and even if they were, she had planned for that. The third pin clicked, then the fourth.
Mabella’s expression remained calm, almost bored. This wasn’t a challenge for her—it was routine. The final pin fell into place, and the lock gave way with a quiet release. She pushed the locker door open, not in a rush, not glancing over her shoulder. There was no need. She was in complete control, and she relished the feeling.
Inside the locker was exactly what she had expected. Lydia’s belongings were neatly arranged, but it didn’t take Mabella long to find what she was looking for. Her fingers moved swiftly, extracting a small notebook hidden in the back, her eyes scanning the first few pages with an analytical gaze.
"Bingo," she muttered to herself, her lips curling into a satisfied smirk. This would do nicely.
With the notebook secured, she carefully closed the locker door, resetting the lock with a flick of her wrist. Her movements were graceful, efficient—no trace left behind, no evidence that she had ever been there. She cast one final glance at the camera, tapping her phone once more to end the loop and resume the live feed.