## Chapter 4
Unknown Number
There’s one unspoken rule in friendship. When your best friend says, “I can explain,” the explanation usually won’t be simple. I stared at Naya. Then at her bag. Then back at Naya. “Explain.” The cafeteria was still loud, but our table felt like it was in a separate room. Keanu picked up Naya’s bag and pulled a phone out of it. “Nay,” he said quietly. “Is this your number?” Naya set two bottles of water on the table. “No.” I let out a short laugh. “Your phone was ringing in your bag.” “I know.” “Then?” “It’s not my phone.” I fell silent. Keanu turned the phone over. A plain black case. No sunflower sticker like the one that was usually stuck to Naya’s phone. Naya hurriedly opened her bag and pulled out another phone. “This is my phone.” She placed it on the table. Two phones. One belonged to Naya. The other belonged to someone. I stared at the black phone. “How long has it been in your bag?” “I don’t know.” “Naya.” “Seriously, Lun.” She sat down across from me. “During the first break, I left my bag in the classroom. I only brought my wallet.” Keanu pressed the power button on the black phone. Locked. “So someone put it in there.” “Or she did it herself,” I said. Naya immediately looked at me. A flash of pain crossed her face. “You suspect me?” I wanted to say no. It should have been easy. She was my best friend. The person who had known everything about me all this time. But the past two days had made trust feel like something too expensive to give away just like that. “I don’t know who to trust.” Naya fell silent. Keanu set the phone on the table. “Don’t fight yet. Let’s check the number.” I opened the message I’d received earlier. Keanu read the number aloud. Naya compared it with the number on the black phone through the emergency-call screen. They matched. “Try calling again,” Keanu said. I did. The black phone vibrated. There was no doubt anymore. The message telling me not to come to Ruang Sela at four had been sent from the object sitting in front of us. “But how could they send it if the phone was in Naya’s bag?” I asked. Keanu furrowed his brow. “Maybe it was scheduled.” “Messages can be scheduled?” “They can if you use a certain app.” Naya crossed her arms. “So that person deliberately put this phone in my bag to make Luna suspect me.” I looked at her. “Why you?” “I want to know too.” The bell signaling the end of break rang. None of us moved. Keanu finally picked up the black phone with a tissue. “Don’t touch it too much.” Naya raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you become a cop?” “Since your lives turned into a cheap crime series.” In another situation, I might have laughed. Not now. Keanu put the phone in a plastic bag from the cafeteria. “I’ll hold on to it for now.” “Why you?” I asked. “Because if it goes back in Naya’s bag, you two will kill each other before four.” That made sense. We went back to class. But one question kept following me. If Naya really hadn’t sent that message— who had put the phone in her bag? ________________________________________ 3:46 p.m. I stood in front of Ruang Sela Cafe. Alone. Technically. Keanu and Naya were in the convenience store across the street because I’d asked them not to come in. If Raka really wanted to talk, I wanted to hear him out without anyone else there. I opened the door. A little bell rang. The smell of coffee greeted me immediately. My eyes automatically went to the table near the window. Empty. Good. I chose a table in the back corner. 3:51. 3:57. 4:00. No Raka. 4:07. I started tapping the table. 4:13. Of course. I was stupid to believe he would come. My phone buzzed. Keanu: If he’s not here in five minutes, I’m coming in. I typed. Me: Don’t. Before I could send it, the chair across from me was pulled out. I looked up. Not Raka. Celine Maharani. She sat down without asking permission. “You’re Aluna?” I looked at her. We’d met a few times, but never really talked. “Yeah.” Celine placed a small bag on the table. “Raka isn’t coming.” My chest immediately tightened. “How do you know?” “Because he asked me to come.” I laughed humorlessly. “Great. Now he even needs a representative to talk to his ex.” “That’s not what this is.” “Then what is it?” Celine glanced around before opening her bag. “I only have a little time.” She pulled something out. A phone. Not the black phone we’d found. An old phone with a cracked screen in one corner. She pushed it toward me. “This belongs to Raka.” I didn’t touch it. “Why do you have it?” “Because he left it with me two months ago.” “Why?” “He said that if you ever started receiving strange messages, I had to give this to you.” I froze. “Two months ago?” Celine nodded. “So he knew this was going to happen?” “I don’t know.” I stared at the phone. “Password?” “Your birthday.” It felt like my heart was being pulled. I picked up the phone. The screen lit up. Enter passcode. 1408. It unlocked. The wallpaper was black. There were no photos. No social media apps. Only standard apps. “What am I supposed to look for?” Celine shook her head. “Raka only said you’d know.” I opened the gallery. Empty. Messages. Empty. Notes. There was one. Its title was: If Luna Reads This. My hand stopped. I opened it. There were only three lines. Luna, if this phone has made it into your hands, it means everything has started again. Don’t trust anyone who claims to know what happened on May 17. I looked at Celine. “What does he mean, ‘started again’?” “I don’t know.” I read the next section. There’s one thing you need to remember. On the night of May 17, I did decide to break up with you. My chest hurt. Then the next line made me stop breathing. But I wasn’t the one who typed the chat you read that night. I stood up so quickly that the chair scraped backward. Celine looked at the screen too. “What?” I read it again. There was no mistake. That breakup message hadn’t come from Raka. My hand scrolled down. There was more. I know who sent it. A name appeared below it. But before I could read it— the screen went dark. “Why?” I pressed the power button. It didn’t turn on. “The battery?” “It was still at sixty percent,” Celine said. I tried again. No reaction. Then my own phone buzzed. A message from Keanu. Keanu: Luna, get out now. A second message. Keanu: Don’t panic. A third message arrived with a photo. I opened it. A photo of Raka. He was standing on the sidewalk about a hundred yards from the cafe. Talking to someone. I zoomed in. The person facing him was wearing a gray hoodie and had their back to the camera. Me: Who is that? Keanu replied. Keanu: That’s the problem. Keanu: I’ve seen that hoodie before. I stared at the screen. Me: Where? His reply took a while. Then it came in. Keanu: The school security footage. I froze. Me: Which footage? The typing indicator appeared. Keanu: May 17. I hadn’t even had time to understand what he meant when another message appeared. Not from Keanu. From an unknown number. The same number as the black phone. Unknown Number: I already told you not to come. I immediately typed. Me: Who are you? The reply came in. Unknown Number: You’re still asking the wrong question. Me: Then what’s the right question? The typing indicator appeared. I waited. Five seconds. Ten. Then— Unknown Number: Ask Keanu why he has the security footage from May 17. The blood drained from my face. Slowly, I raised my head. Through the window of Ruang Sela Cafe, I could see the convenience store across the street. Naya was standing in front of the door. Alone. Keanu was gone. My phone vibrated once more. This time, it was a message from Naya. Naya: Lun. Naya: Keanu left. Me: Where did he go? Naya’s reply made my grip tighten around my phone. Naya: He took the black phone. I stared at the message. Then at the photo Keanu had sent. Then at the anonymous message. For the first time since all of this began, a possibility I’d never wanted to consider surfaced. What if the person who had been helping me search for answers all this time— was actually the person who least wanted me to find them?