Bereal Viewer Access

It was her name. Maya . Written three times. Crossed out. Written again.

Then she opened the Viewer . Not the official app. A third-party one she’d found buried in a forum, one that let you see anyone’s BeReal— anyone’s —without them knowing. No “real reactions.” No trace.

One night, the notification came late: 11:59 PM. She opened the Viewer. Liam’s photo loaded: a dark room, his phone’s flash illuminating a piece of paper on his nightstand. She zoomed in.

At 2:17 PM the next day, her phone buzzed. Time to BeReal.

She didn’t pose. She never did anymore. She just pointed the camera at her desk—half-empty coffee, a tangled earbud, a post-it that said “call mom.” The two-minute countdown ticked. Front camera: her tired face, no filter. Post.

She looked up Liam. Her ex. They’d broken up four months ago—his idea. He’d stopped posting on everything else, but BeReal caught him every day at random. She told herself she just wanted to see if he was okay.