"They say the truth will set you free. But first, it has to survive the internet."
The morning after the runway show, Fatima woke up to silence.
Too much silence.
Her phone wasn't buzzing.
Her laptop wasn't pinging.
Even her DMs were eerily quiet.
That should've been the first sign that something was wrong.
She rolled out of bed, still wearing the silk robe she'd thrown on after her post-show celebration (which consisted of a bottle of wine, a face mask, and a playlist of Beyoncé's greatest hits).
She reached for her phone.
And then—
It started.
Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.
Instagram notifications.
Twitter mentions.
Emails.
Texts.
All from Jada.
Jada: Girl, turn on your phone.
Jada: You need to see this before someone else tells you.
Jada: I'm so sorry.
Fatima frowned.
What the hell?
She opened Instagram.
And there it was.
A post from an anonymous account—@truthslayy—captioned:
"Beneath the laceless lies, there's more than just curves. See for yourself."
Attached were photos.
Not compromising.
But personal.
Photos of Fatima laughing with Kai in his office.
Kissing Dante in the alley.
Sitting alone at a café, looking vulnerable.
One even showed her in the dressing room backstage, adjusting her dress.
Private moments.
Moments she never agreed to share.
And below them, comments poured in like wildfire.
"So she's playing both sides?" "Can't be a feminist icon if you're just chasing men." "This is why people don't trust viral stars." "She's fake."
Fatima's stomach dropped.
She scrolled down.
The post had over 500K likes.
And it was spreading fast.
---
Betrayal or Misunderstanding?
Within minutes, her phone rang.
Jada.
"I didn't do it," Jada said before Fatima could even speak.
Fatima exhaled sharply. "Then who did?"
"I don't know," Jada admitted. "But I swear, it wasn't me."
Fatima closed her eyes.
Of course it wasn't Jada. She knew that. Her best friend was many things—reckless, impulsive, occasionally too honest—but never disloyal.
Still, someone had shared these photos.
Someone who had access.
To her life.
To her secrets.
Fatima felt exposed.
Literally.
Metaphorically.
Emotionally.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
She hadn't worn underwear again last night.
Because she liked the freedom.
Now, she wished she had.
Wished she had some kind of armor.
Some kind of shield.
Anything to protect herself from the storm brewing outside her door.
---
The Fallout Begins
By noon, the story had gone mainstream.
Viral again—but not for confidence.
For controversy.
Headlines read:
"Fatima Fannel's Secret Romance Drama Exposed"
"Is #FreeFatima Just Another PR Stunt?"
"Double Life or Double Trouble?"
Brands began pulling back.
An offer from a wellness brand was rescinded.
A magazine interview was canceled.
Even Velvet Curve sent out a cautious email asking if they should pull her merch from the shelves.
Fatima sat at her kitchen table, staring at the screen.
She felt hollow.
Used.
Like someone had taken pieces of her life and turned them into entertainment.
Without her consent.
Again.
---
Kai Shows Up Again
Later that afternoon, there was a knock at her door.
She opened it.
Kai stood there.
He looked furious.
"Did you know about this?" he asked.
Fatima blinked. "Excuse me?"
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation.
"I got a call from my PR team. They want to drop the campaign."
Fatima's jaw tightened. "You think I did this?"
Kai shook his head. "No. But someone close to you did."
Fatima stared at him.
"You came here to blame me?"
"No," Kai said, voice softer now. "I came here because I care. Because I saw how this affected you."
Fatima looked away.
"I don't even know who to trust anymore," she whispered.
Kai hesitated, then pulled her into a hug.
She stiffened at first.
Then melted.
Because right now, she needed someone to hold her.
Even if that someone had hurt her once.
---
Dante's Side of the Story
Later that evening, Fatima got a text from Dante.
Dante: I didn't send those pictures. I swear.
She didn't reply.
Instead, she called him.
He answered on the second ring.
"I didn't leak anything," he said immediately.
Fatima sighed. "Then how did someone get those photos?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I would never betray you like that."
Fatima studied his voice.
There was sincerity in it.
Genuine concern.
"I believe you," she said finally.
There was a pause.
Then he asked, "Are we still okay?"
Fatima closed her eyes.
"I don't know," she admitted. "I don't know what's real anymore."
---
Flashback: The First Time She Felt Trapped
She remembered being seventeen.
In a hotel room.
With a boy she thought she loved.
They'd been dating for months.
He told her she was beautiful.
Told her she was special.
But when they got to the hotel, he wanted her to take off everything.
Including her underwear.
She hesitated.
He pushed.
Said it was part of intimacy.
That if she trusted him, she'd let go.
So she did.
And afterward, he took a photo.
Without asking.
Without permission.
Just a quick snap.
She found out later he showed it to his friends.
Laughed about how easy she was.
How soft she was.
How big she was.
That night, she made a vow.
Never again.
She would never let anyone use her body against her.
Would never give anyone power over her choices.
Would never wear underwear again—not as a cage, but as a reminder.
Freedom meant control.
Control meant protection.
And now?
Someone had stolen that from her.
Again.
---
Present Day: Reclaiming Control
The next day, Fatima did something bold.
She posted a video.
Unfiltered.
No makeup.
Hair in a messy bun.
She sat in front of the camera, straight-faced.
"Hi. My name is Fatima Fannel. And someone leaked private photos of me without my consent. Not nude. Not explicit. Just… mine."
"And yet, somehow, I'm the villain."
"People are calling me fake. A fraud. Someone who plays games. But here's the truth—I'm just a woman trying to live her life on her own terms."
"I didn't ask for fame. I didn't ask for scandal. I just wanted to feel free."
"But freedom means nothing if someone can strip it away whenever they want."
"So today, I'm taking it back."
"This is my body. My story. My truth."
"And no one gets to tell me otherwise."
She hit post.
And waited.
---
The Response Was Immediate
Within hours, the video had gone mega-viral.
Support poured in.
"This is exactly why we need privacy laws!" "Thank you for speaking out." "You're not alone." "This isn't your fault."
Feminist groups reposted it.
Body-positive influencers praised her courage.
Even celebrities chimed in.
And slowly, the tide began to shift.
Brands reached out again.
Offers returned.
And Velvet Curve launched a new line: "My Body, My Rules."
Fatima was trending again.
Not for drama.
For strength.
---
Fatima Moments
That night, Fatima sat alone in her apartment, scrolling through the flood of support.
She felt lighter.
Stronger.
Empowered.
She looked at her phone.
Two unread messages.
One from Kai:
Kai: Proud of you. Always.
And one from Dante:
Dante: Still want to explore us?
She smiled.
Maybe.
Soon.
But not tonight.
Tonight, she belonged to herself.
And that was enough.