A house is always considered the safest place. Until one day, you realize that the person you're looking to for answers lives in the next room. I stared at Damar's picture on the screen. There was no mistaking him. His hair was slightly messy. The denim jacket he wore almost all the time back then. Even the black bracelet on his left wrist was clearly visible. He stood a few yards behind Raka and me on the roof of the Meridian Building. Watching us.
“When was this taken?” Naya asked.
I checked the file information. March 12. Two months before Raka and I broke up.
“Why was your brother following you two?” Keanu asked.
“I don't know.”
My answer sounded more like a whisper.
I zoomed in on the picture. Damar wasn't looking at the camera. His eyes were fixed on Raka.
The black phone buzzed again.
Hidden Number: Don't tell Damar about this phone.
I typed immediately.
Me: Why?
My message was sent. Not read.
A few seconds later, the account disappeared.
“I'm going home,” I said.
Keanu stood up.
“I'm coming with you.”
“No.”
“Luna, if Damar really—”
“He's my brother.”
“That's exactly why.”
I looked at Keanu.
“I just want to ask him something.”
Naya stood too.
“Don't tell him about the recording yet.”
I nodded.
I left the black phone with Keanu. If the anonymous sender really was watching us, at least I didn't want to bring the only direct evidence into the house.
It was 6:32 p.m. when I opened the front door.
“Mom?”
“In the kitchen!”
Mom's voice made everything feel normal. The smell of fried onions. The television playing. Damar's shoes carelessly tossed beside the rack. Ordinary things. And for some reason, they only made me more afraid.
“Is Damar home?”
“In his room. He's been there for a while.”
I climbed the stairs. His door was closed. I knocked.
“Bro?”
“Come in.”
Damar was sitting in front of his laptop. He turned toward me.
“Since when do you ask permission to come in?”
I leaned against the door.
“I want to ask you something.”
“If you're asking to borrow money, I don't have any.”
“It's not about that.”
He went back to typing.
“Then what?”
“Did you know Raka before I dated him?”
His hands stopped. For only a fraction of a second. But I saw it.
“Why are you asking that?”
“Just answer.”
Damar spun his chair around.
“Yeah, I knew him.”
My chest tightened.
“Since when?”
“Before you two started dating.”
“Why didn't you ever tell me?”
“Because it wasn't important.”
I let out a small laugh.
“Lately, everyone really likes saying things aren't important.”
Damar frowned.
“What is wrong with you?”
I pulled out my phone. Not the picture from the anonymous number. Another picture. An old picture I'd taken with Raka at Meridian.
“We used to come here a lot.”
Damar's expression didn't change.
“So?”
“Have you ever been there?”
“Yeah.”
“When?”
“Don't remember.”
A lie. I knew my brother. Whenever Damar lied, he rubbed his thumb against the side of his index finger. He was doing it now.
“March 12?”
His hand stopped. Damar looked at me.
“Who told you?”
Not no. Not you got it wrong. But who told you?
That meant it was true.
“Why were you there?”
Damar stood up.
“Aluna, who gave you this information?”
“Answer me.”
“Raka?”
“Why is it always Raka?”
“Because he never should've taken you to that place!”
His voice rose. I froze.
Damar realized he'd said too much.
“Why?”
He rubbed his face.
“It was nothing.”
“Don't lie to me.”
“I'm not lying.”
“You were at the school on May 17 too?”
This time, his expression truly changed. Pale.
“How do you know that date?”
My heart began beating faster.
“So you were there.”
Damar walked toward me.
“Listen to me. Whatever they gave you—pictures, chats, recordings—don't believe them.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent them doesn't want to help you.”
His words left me speechless.
“You know who sent them?”
Damar didn't answer.
“Bro.”
“Block everything.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Raka said the same thing.”
“For once, listen to him.”
I stared at my brother.
“What are you two actually hiding from me?”
Damar shook his head.
“The less you know, the safer you'll be.”
I was sick of it.
“I'm not a kid.”
“This isn't about your age!”
“Then what is it about?”
Damar almost answered. Almost.
Then his phone chimed. One notification.
I hadn't meant to look. Until the sender's name appeared on the phone lying on the desk.
Raka.
Damar hurriedly grabbed his phone. Too late.
“You're still talking to Raka?”
“Luna—”
“After he broke up with me?”
“It's not like that.”
“Open it.”
“What?”
“Your chat.”
“No.”
I held out my hand.
“If there's nothing to hide, open it.”
“Aluna.”
“Open it!”
Damar stared at me for a long time. Then he sighed and handed me his phone.
The conversation with Raka was at the very top. A new message had just come in.
Raka: Luna's starting to find out.
Above it was a message from Damar.
Damar: I already told you not to contact her again.
I scrolled. Their conversation had been going on for months. Even after Raka and I broke up.
Then my eyes stopped at the chat from May 17.
9:32 p.m.
Damar: Where are you? Raka: The school. Damar: Don't do anything until I get there.
My hands trembled. I scrolled again.
10:04 p.m.
Damar: Who has your phone? Raka: Her. Damar: Damn it.
I raised my head.
“Who is she?”
Damar took his phone back.
“Enough.”
“Who?”
“Go back to your room.”
“I'm already home!”
“Luna!”
“WHO IS SHE?”
Mom's voice came from downstairs.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing, Mom!” Damar called back.
I stared at him.
“I'll find out myself.”
Damar's face hardened.
“Don't.”
“Why? Afraid I'll find out you're involved?”
I turned away. Damar grabbed my arm.
“I'm doing all this because I don't want what happened before to happen again.”
I stopped.
“What happened?”
He let go of my arm.
A mistake. The words were already out.
“Bro.”
There was no answer.
“What happened?”
Damar looked at me like someone who had just realized that the door he'd kept locked all this time had opened a crack.
“You really don't remember?”
I furrowed my brow.
“Remember what?”
His expression changed. Not fear. Shock.
“Luna…”
“What?”
“Meridian wasn't the first time you met Raka.”
I stared at him.
“Obviously not. We went to the same school.”
“That's not what I mean.”
Damar took a breath.
“You knew him long before high school.”
I let out a small laugh because it sounded impossible.
“No way.”
Damar opened his desk drawer. He took out an old envelope. From inside, he pulled out a photograph.
“If that's impossible, explain this.”
I took it. A picture of three children standing in front of a house. One of them was Damar. The second was me. I was probably nine or ten years old. And the boy standing beside me— I recognized his eyes.
Raka.
My hands trembled.
Written on the back of the photo in blue ink:
For Luna. Don't forget me again. —R
I read the sentence twice.
“Why don't I remember?”
Damar didn't answer.
My phone chimed. An unknown number. A message.
Finally, he showed her the picture.
I looked at Damar. Then at the screen.
A second message came in.
Now ask why everyone agreed to make you forget Raka.