Mia never trusted anonymous accounts. Especially the weird ones with no photos, no names—just a blank profile and a mask as the avatar. So, when the first message came in—“He’s not who you think he is”—she rolled her eyes and deleted it.
Then came another. And another.
Each from a different masked profile.
Each message sharper, more personal.
“Ask him where he was last Friday.”
“Check his hidden album.”
“You’re not the only one.”
Still, she laughed it off. Probably jealous exes or catfish accounts trying to stir drama. Kyle was sweet, attentive, and always said the right things. The perfect boyfriend. But the masked messages kept coming, and doubt crept in like a slow leak.
One night, while Kyle was in the shower, her curiosity cracked the surface. She opened his phone. No password change. Suspicious. She scrolled through his hidden album.
Her blood ran cold.
Photos of Kyle—smiling, kissing, proposing to someone else. A girl who wore the same silver bracelet he had given Mia on their anniversary.
Her phone buzzed. Another masked account.
“Now you see.”
Mia’s hands shook. She replied:
“Who are you?”
The reply came instantly: a mirror selfie. A tear-streaked girl. Same bracelet. Same heartbreak.
Mia’s entire world spun. She thought the masks were fake—just noise from the internet. But behind every mask was someone real. Someone lied to. Someone used.
Over the next few days, more messages came. More masked girls. More stories. It wasn’t just one lie. It was a web of betrayal.
And now, Mia wasn’t just a victim. She was part of the unmasking.
She thought they were fake.
But the truth?
It had many faces.
