Morning came with a different feeling.
Usually, Naufal was always reluctant to get up when his alarm went off. He would often put it off for a few minutes, pull the blanket back over himself, and pretend not to hear his mother calling from downstairs.
But not that morning.
He had already been awake before the alarm went off.
He had barely slept all night.
His thoughts kept returning to what had happened in the empty room. The old photograph, the writing on the back, the door that had locked itself, and what his father had said about the person who had once lived in that house.
The person who had disappeared.
Naufal sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor.
The old photograph he had taken the night before was still in his hand.
He didn't know why the photograph felt so important.
Something about it was strange.
As if it wasn't merely some forgotten old object.
As if there were a reason it had appeared just when he had started hearing voices in the house.
“Naufal!”
His mother's voice from downstairs snapped him back to reality.
“Yes, Mom!”
“Come have breakfast!”
“Okay.”
Naufal put the photograph in the drawer of his study desk.
He didn't want his father to see it again before he got some answers.
When he went downstairs, the house looked normal.
Too normal.
His father was reading the newspaper.
His mother was making tea.
No one mentioned what had happened the night before.
That only made Naufal feel more uneasy.
He sat down at the dining table.
“Dad.”
His father lowered the newspaper.
“What?”
“Yesterday, you said the person who lived in this house had disappeared.”
His mother immediately stopped pouring the tea.
His father looked at Naufal's mother.
It was as if they were communicating without saying a word.
Naufal watched them both.
“Dad?”
His father took a breath.
“Don't talk about that first thing in the morning.”
“Why not?”
“Because not everything you heard is necessarily true.”
“But you know something.”
His father fell silent.
Naufal became even more certain.
“Dad, I've heard that voice several times already. I also saw that bedroom door open with my own eyes.”
His mother slowly sat down.
“Naufal.”
“What, Mom?”
“Sometimes there are things you're better off not looking into.”
Naufal furrowed his brow.
“Why does everyone keep saying that?”
There was no answer.
Breakfast fell silent.
Naufal felt as if he were all alone.
Even though three people were sitting at the same table.
Suddenly, his phone rang.
A message from Raka.
Raka: Get out here now. I'm out front.
Naufal immediately stood up.
“I'm heading out.”
His mother looked at him.
“Where are you going?”
“To meet Raka.”
His father only nodded.
But before Naufal could leave, his father spoke softly.
“Fal.”
Naufal stopped.
“Yes?”
“Don't tell just anyone about this house.”
Naufal looked at his father.
“Why?”
His father didn't answer.
Naufal finally went outside.
Raka was already standing by the gate, holding a helmet.
As soon as he saw Naufal, Raka walked over.
“Did you sleep at all last night?”
Naufal shook his head.
“A little.”
“Me neither.”
Naufal was surprised.
“What happened to you?”
Raka looked at Naufal's house.
“After our call cut off last night, I couldn't stop thinking about it.”
“And?”
“I looked into your house.”
Naufal immediately fell silent.
“What do you mean?”
Raka pulled out his phone.
“I asked a few people.”
“Who?”
“People around here.”
Naufal took Raka's phone.
There were several notes on the screen.
“The old house?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Raka pointed to one of the notes.
“That house used to sit empty for almost ten years.”
Naufal read it slowly.
“Ten years?”
“Yeah.”
“But my family has lived here since I was little.”
“That's what makes it weird.”
Naufal handed the phone back.
“What else do you know?”
Raka looked hesitant.
“There is one story.”
“What story?”
“They say a family used to live in that house.”
Naufal immediately thought of the photograph.
“And then?”
“They moved out suddenly.”
“Why?”
Raka looked at the house.
“Because their child disappeared.”
Naufal fell silent.
His heart began beating faster.
“A child?”
“Yeah.”
“How old?”
“They say the kid was still little.”
Naufal didn't say anything.
His thoughts immediately turned to the voice he had heard.
A child's voice.
“Naufal?”
“Hm?”
“What is it?”
“I remember the voice from yesterday.”
Raka looked at him.
“The child's voice?”
Naufal nodded.
Raka slipped his hands into his pockets.
“Fal, there's one more thing.”
“What?”
“People say that before the child disappeared, the house was often noisy.”
Naufal stared at Raka.
The words made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
“Often noisy?”
“Yeah.”
“What kind of sounds?”
“They say all kinds.”
Raka paused for a moment.
“Footsteps. A door opening. Someone calling a name.”
Naufal looked at his house.
Everything was starting to make more sense.
But there was still one thing he didn't know.
Why had the house started making noise again now?
“Rak.”
“What?”
“Let's find out.”
Raka immediately shook his head.
“Are you serious?”
“Yeah.”
“Fal, this isn't a movie.”
“I know.”
“What if it's dangerous?”
Naufal was silent.
Then he said,
“I just want to know why my house is like this.”
Raka looked at Naufal's face.
A few seconds later, he sighed.
“Okay.”
Naufal gave a small smile.
“But?”
“But if something weird happens, we leave.”
“Deal.”
The two of them entered the yard.
As they passed through the front door, Naufal stopped.
There was something beside the doormat.
A small object.
He picked it up.
A red toy car.
The same object from the night before.
Raka immediately looked at it.
“Fal…”
“Yeah.”
“Wasn't that in your room?”
Naufal nodded slowly.
“Yeah.”
“Then why is it here now?”
Naufal didn't answer.
Because he didn't know either.
They entered the living room.
The house looked empty.
Too quiet.
Raka looked toward the stairs.
“I don't like upstairs.”
Naufal almost laughed.
“You're usually the brave one.”
“Usually I don't know your house has problems.”
They walked toward the stairs.
After only a few steps, a sound came from upstairs.
Tap.
They both stopped.
Tap.
Raka immediately grabbed Naufal's hand.
“You heard that?”
Naufal nodded.
Tap.
The sound was coming closer.
But this time, it wasn't footsteps.
It was the sound of something being dragged.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Scrape.
Raka whispered,
“Fal…”
“What?”
“I think something knows we're here.”
Naufal stared at the upper floor.
And for the first time, he felt that the house wasn't merely keeping secrets.
The house was waiting for them to find its answers.