Social media creeps into your life and relationships whether you want it or not. Cute photos and updates for friends and family are mostly harmless. But occasionally things turn unexpectedly.
Mark and I were almost a year together. He was the ideal boyfriend. Whether we were trekking or watching TV on a Sunday, she was kind and always made me laugh. His presence made me feel lucky. I thought it was time to announce on Facebook.
We took this photo on a hiking route one day. It was wonderful to smile with the sun behind us. “My favorite person and I on our latest adventure!” Adding loving emojis to the caption. I posted the post to share our joy.
Ten minutes later, I received a stomach-churning notification. It wasn’t liked or commented. “YOU MUST RUN FROM HIM. NOW.”
My heart raced as I gazed at my phone. Who would send that? A blank website greeted me as I clicked on the profile, expecting for a clue. The message was scary, but this? Like a ghost sent it.
I looked at Mark, who was throwing our backpacks in the van, ignorant of my storm. Should I tell him?
I was racing, when another message appeared: “Don’t tell Mark anything. Listen attentively. Smile, don’t attack him. You don’t know his abilities. You understand?”
The blood drained from my face. This was what? Who sent these messages? Why were they so sure I was in danger?
I peered at Mark again. Waved at me with his usual easy smile. He seems harmless. The messages had a weird urgency that worried me enough to play along, at least for now.
I smiled and moved closer to him, attempting to speak clearly. “Ready to go?”
“Everything okay?” Mark asked, looking at me.
Swallowed the knot in my throat. It’s just my mom. Will text her later.”
I couldn’t shake the messages that night. They kept coming back, making me doubt everything. Mark was always nice and sweet. What if I didn’t properly know him? Suppose there was something darker below?
Things worsened during the next few days. I’d see him looking at me, silent. This was unsettling. I looked up from reading on the couch one night and saw him staring at me. He shrugged when I inquired whether everything was okay. It felt significant.
Another message from the same anonymous profile arrived on my phone one morning: “Meet me at Bayou Bakery tomorrow at 2 p.m. Proof is mine. Don’t tell Mark. Create an excuse.”
Reading that made my hands shake. Evidence? Of what? What might they have on him? I needed info. How could I deceive Mark? Perhaps he was observing me too carefully. What if he suspected something?
“I’m meeting my mom for lunch tomorrow,” I remarked nonchalantly over breakfast, trying not to shake.
Mark sipped his coffee without looking up. “Really? No reference before.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said hastily, pulse pumping. She phoned last night. Last minute.”
Mark finally met my gaze, expressionless. “Alright,” he said softly.
I tried to focus on my coffee, but I felt his gaze as if he was looking through me.
I left home the next day. I felt Mark’s gaze on me as I left. I tried to seem normal, but my stomach was knotted. He always had that inscrutable gaze as I stared back. Did he suspect? Was he aware of the problem?
I visited Bayou Bakery early. Sitting at a little table near the window, my heart raced. The fragrance of coffee and cakes didn’t soothe me. I startled whenever the door opened, anticipating a mystery figure with all the answers.
But 10 minutes passed. Then 20. Nothing.
I looked at my phone, wondering if this was a cruel prank. Just before leaving, the door opened again, and my heart nearly stopped. It was Mark.
“Ellie?” He spoke cautiously, puzzled. “Why are you here? I assumed you met your mom.”
My throat dried. “I… I assumed you worked. Why are you here?
He crossed the room and sat across from me, examining the room. I received a message. Someone instructed me to come. Something about you was requested.”
My head spun. You got a message? About me?
His expression was hesitant as he nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t believe it until you started acting strange. Not sure what to think.”
My heart raced as I watched him. He was getting the same messages I did. Nothing made sense. Why would someone hurt us?
Our conversation was cut short as the bakery door opened again. I looked up and saw Andrew, one of our common acquaintances, grinning like a fool. He strolled right to our table and pulled up a chair like he was waiting for this.
“Surprise!” he grinned.
Mark and I stared at him in confusion.
What the hell is going on, Andrew? Voice trembling with wrath, I demanded.
Andrew slumped back in his chair, beaming. “Relax. It was a joke. More like a test.”
“A test?” Mark said in a chilly tone. Andrew, you frightened us. Why do that?
Andrew shrugged, seeming less arrogant. Rumors, falsehoods, and social media drama have destroyed too many relationships. I intended to test your trust.”
My blood boiled. You sent those messages? You convinced me Mark was dangerous, but now you’re laughing about it?
Andrew raised his hands. OK, maybe I went too far. But seriously, Ellie. Mark. You both read anonymous messages instead of talking about it. What does that indicate about your relationship?
I looked at Mark, who seemed as enraged as I did. There was also an unsettling fact. Andrew was right, despite his brutality.
The conversation continued tensely. Andrew apologized but felt inadequate. He said he wanted to know if we would trust each other in a scary situation or go against one other.
We were upset at him for putting us through that, but I recognized how much it showed.
After leaving the bakery, Mark and I talked little. I was still reeling from the shock, but I understood what we had just experienced.
Finally, I spoke up. “Do you agree with Andrew?”
Sighing, Mark stroked his hair. I hate to say that, but maybe. We didn’t talk. We believed some anonymous messages.”
Trust was essential, and we both knew it. Andrew’s trick was cruel, but it taught us that facing our concerns and doubts jointly was the best way to strengthen our relationship.
