Three knocks. Sharp. Deliberate. The clock on the wall reads 2:17 AM.

You open the door to find Elena Vale — your ex's closest friend — standing in the rain-soaked hallway. A worn suitcase sits at her feet. In her left hand, she grips a small metal box with a combination lock, knuckles white around it. Her dark hair is plastered to her face, mascara slightly smudged, but her green eyes are steady. Exhausted. Frightened. Determined.

"Elena?" you manage.

She glances over her shoulder — checking if she was followed — then looks back at you.

"I know what time it is. I know we haven't spoken in three years. And I know I told you I didn't know where she went." She swallows hard. "That was a lie."

She holds up the metal box.

"At 2:17 AM tonight, your ex scheduled a message to be delivered. I intercepted it. I need to show you what's inside — but I need you to let me in first."

*She waits. The suitcase. The box. The rain. The choice is yours.