Naufal didn't immediately respond to his mother's words.
The sentence kept repeating in his head.
He knows your name because he's known you for a long time.
What did she mean?
How could something in this house know him before he even knew that something existed?
Raka, standing beside him, looked just as confused.
“Mom,” Raka said quietly. “What do you mean?”
His mother looked toward the stairs.
She looked worried.
“Not everything can be explained right now.”
Naufal started to get annoyed.
“Why is it always like that?”
His mother looked at him.
“Like what?”
“Every time I ask, everyone says later, don’t find out, don’t get involved.”
Naufal pointed toward the upper floor.
“But this house keeps messing with me.”
Naufal’s father, who had just come out of the bedroom, heard him immediately.
“What do you mean, the house is messing with you?”
Naufal turned around.
“You know.”
His father fell silent.
“Right?”
There was no answer.
Naufal gave a small, disappointed laugh.
“Funny.”
“What?”
“I’ve lived here all this time, but it turns out I’m the person who knows the least about my own house.”
His father came closer.
“Naufal, listen to Dad.”
“No, Dad.”
“Naufal.”
“I just want to know the truth.”
His father fell silent.
Raka saw the tension and felt uncomfortable.
He knew this was no longer just curiosity.
This was a family problem now.
“I’m heading out for a bit,” Raka said.
Naufal turned to him.
“Where are you going?”
“To buy something to drink.”
“Raka…”
“I’ll give you guys some time to talk.”
Raka walked toward the door.
Before leaving, he stopped for a moment.
“Fal.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go upstairs by yourself.”
Naufal nodded.
After Raka left, the living room felt even quieter.
Naufal’s father sat on the couch.
His mother sat down too.
Naufal remained standing.
“Tell me.”
His father sighed.
“Do you remember when we first moved into this house?”
Naufal nodded.
“When I was seven.”
“That’s right.”
“I still remember.”
His father looked at the floor.
“Before we bought this house, I already knew about its dark history.”
Naufal was shocked.
“So you knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you still buy it?”
That question left his father silent for quite a while.
“Because I didn’t believe it back then.”
“Believe what?”
“The stories about this house.”
His mother took Naufal’s father’s hand.
“Don’t rush.”
He nodded.
“People used to say there was something wrong with this house. They said they often heard strange noises.”
Naufal cut in.
“Like what I’m hearing now?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“I thought it was just a rumor.”
Naufal sat down.
“Then what?”
“Your mother and I moved in. Nothing happened during the first month.”
“The first month?”
His father nodded.
“Things started happening in the second month.”
Naufal listened closely.
“What happened?”
His father looked at the stairs.
“Footsteps.”
Naufal immediately fell silent.
“Like the ones you heard?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Then there was the sound of a door.”
“And then?”
His father paused for a moment.
“The sound of someone crying.”
A shiver ran through Naufal’s body.
“A little kid?”
His father didn't answer right away.
But his expression was answer enough.
“Yes.”
Silence filled the room.
Naufal looked at his mother.
“You heard it too?”
She nodded slowly.
“At first, we thought it was just our imagination.”
“But?”
“But one night, I saw someone.”
Naufal held his breath.
“Saw what?”
His mother clasped her hands together.
“A child standing in front of the empty bedroom.”
“That room?”
“Yes.”
“What was he doing?”
“He was just standing there.”
“Then what?”
“He looked at me.”
Naufal waited for the rest of the story.
“Then he said something.”
“What?”
His mother looked at Naufal.
“He said, ‘Don’t let Naufal leave.’”
Naufal froze.
The room felt colder.
“He said my name?”
His mother nodded.
“But I didn’t have you yet back then.”
Naufal stared at his mother.
“What do you mean?”
She looked like she was holding back tears.
“You hadn’t been born yet.”
There was no sound.
Naufal truly didn't know what to say.
“So…”
He stopped.
“He knew my name before I was born?”
His father nodded slowly.
“That’s why your mother and I never wanted to talk about this.”
Naufal stood up.
“Why are you only telling me now?”
“Because we hoped it was all over.”
“But it’s not.”
His father didn't answer.
Suddenly, a sound came from the upper floor.
Thud.
Like something had fallen.
They all immediately looked toward the stairs.
Then they heard a door opening.
Crack.
Naufal looked at his father.
“Dad…”
His father stood up.
“Don’t go upstairs.”
“But—”
“Listen to me.”
His father’s voice was serious.
“For once, don’t follow your curiosity.”
Naufal fell silent.
Because another sound came from upstairs.
A very soft voice.
“Naufal…”
The voice wasn't calling angrily.
It wasn't threatening him.
Instead, it sounded like someone asking for help.
“Naufal…”
His mother began to cry softly.
“No…”
Naufal looked at her.
“Mom?”
She shook her head.
“Don’t answer.”
“Why?”
“Because back then…”
She stopped.
“What?”
His mother stared at the stairs.
“That child disappeared after answering a call from this house.”
Naufal looked upstairs.
The voice came again.
“Naufal…”
This time, it was closer.
As if it were right behind them.
Naufal slowly turned around.
Nothing.
There was no one there.
But something had appeared on the living-room floor.
Small footprints.
Wet ones.
They began at the front door.
And led toward the stairs.
Naufal stared at the footprints.
His father immediately grabbed his shoulder.
“Don’t follow them.”
Naufal said nothing.
But one thing confused him even more.
The footprints weren't leading upstairs.
They were coming down from the upper floor toward them.
As if something had just come downstairs.
And was now standing between them.