They say people forget because of time. I just learned that people can also forget because everyone around them agrees never to talk about something again. I was still holding the photo. Me, when I was little. Damar. Raka. Three children standing in front of a white house with a green fence. I was grinning at the camera, while Raka stood beside me with the annoyed expression of someone who'd just been forced to take a picture. There was a bracelet around my wrist. Blue beads. I recognized it. Not from my memories. From a box in my room. “Why don’t I remember this?” Damar didn’t answer. “Bro.” “You were little.” “I remember a lot from when I was little.” “Everyone’s memories are different.” “Don’t give me some crappy answer.” Damar let out a breath. “Luna…” “Why did Raka write ‘don’t forget me’ again?” His face tensed. I showed him my phone screen. “And who sent this?” Damar read the anonymous message. His jaw tightened. “Give me your phone.” “No.” “Aluna.” I stepped back. “You know who he is.” Damar didn’t deny it. “Who?” “I’m not sure yet.” “Liar.” “I’m not lying.” “Then why do you look scared?” Damar fell silent. I slipped the photo into my pocket. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll ask Raka.” I had just reached the door when Damar spoke. “When you were ten, you disappeared.” My hand stopped on the doorknob. I turned around. “What?” “Not for long. A few hours.” I stared at him. “I don’t remember.” “I know.” Damar sat on the edge of the bed. “We lived somewhere else back then. Raka was our neighbor.” Strange fragments began moving through my mind. A white house. A green fence. A red bicycle. But they all felt like images from a dream. “One afternoon, you left with Raka.” “Where?” “An abandoned building.” My chest tightened. “Meridian?” Damar shook his head. “No. An old building near our house.” “What happened?” “I don’t know everything.” “You always say that.” “Because I really don’t know!” Damar stood up. “What I do know is that Raka came home alone. You didn’t.” My fingertips began to feel cold. “Then what?” “Everyone looked for you. The police too.” “How long?” “Almost six hours.” Six hours. Someone should remember six hours when everyone was looking for them. I didn’t. “Where did they find you?” Damar’s question made me swallow. “Inside that building.” “Alone?” He nodded. “You wouldn’t speak for several days.” I tried to force my memories to come back. There was nothing. “Raka?” “He kept saying he hadn’t left you.” “What does that mean?” “He said there was someone else.” My heart pounded. “Who?” “He never said.” I remembered the recording. You never should’ve dated him in the first place. “Then why did I forget Raka?” “After that, our family moved. Mom and Dad decided not to talk about it anymore. You never asked either.” I laughed bitterly. “So you all pretended Raka had never existed?” “We thought it was better that way.” “For whom?” Damar didn’t answer. I walked out. “Luna!” I went down the stairs. Mom was standing in the kitchen. “Luna, eat something first.” I stopped. I looked at Mom. Suddenly, I wondered how much she knew. “Mom.” “Yes?” “Did I know Raka when I was little?” The spoon fell from Mom’s hand. The metallic clang against the floor sounded far too loud. Her answer was already clear.
I locked my bedroom door. I immediately took the small box from the top shelf. I’d found it back in middle school. It held childhood things I’d never thought much about. An amusement-park ticket. Marbles. A birthday card. And a bracelet made of blue beads. I took it out. It was the same as the one in the photo. Under the bracelet was something else. A small piece of paper folded over and over. I opened it. A child’s handwriting filled the page. Luna, if you forget again, we promised to meet at the highest place. I’ll wait. Raka. I sank down onto the floor. The highest place. Meridian Building. Was that why Raka had taken me there? Was he trying to make me remember? My phone buzzed. A message from Raka. Raka: Are you home? I typed. Me: I remember the photo. The typing indicator appeared. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. Raka: What photo? Me: Don’t pretend. Me: You and me, when we were little. There was no answer for a long time. Then— Raka: Damar told you? Me: Yeah. Me: Why didn’t you ever tell me? The message was read. One minute. Two. Raka: Because you looked happy when you didn’t remember. My chest felt tight. Me: So when we met in high school, you already knew who I was? Raka: Yeah. Me: From the beginning? Raka: From the first day. I closed my eyes. Every one of our encounters took on a different meaning. The way Raka had looked at me the first time. The way he seemed to know which foods I didn’t like. The way he immediately knew I was afraid of being in dark rooms. I’d always thought we were a good match. It turned out he was only remembering someone I’d forgotten. Me: Why did you get close to me again? His reply took a long time. Raka: Because I was selfish. I stared at the screen. Raka: I thought if we started over, everything would be okay. Me: Until May 17? There was no answer. Me: Did someone from our childhood come back? A long pause. Then— Raka: Luna, lock your bedroom door. I stood up immediately. Me: Why? Raka: Now. I checked the lock. It was already locked. Me: Done. My phone rang. Raka was calling. I answered. “Rak?” “Listen to me. Don’t leave your room.” His voice sounded rushed. “Why?” “I just called Damar.” “And?” “He said someone came to your house.” I froze. The doorbell rang downstairs. Once. Twice. Then Mom’s voice. “Just a second!” I slowly walked toward the door. “Who is it?” “Luna, don’t open it.” I pressed my ear against the door. I heard the front door open. Then a man’s voice. Faint. But familiar. Mom said something I couldn’t hear. Then footsteps. Coming up to the second floor. One. Two. Three. “Rak…” “I’m on my way.” The footsteps stopped right outside my bedroom. Knock. Knock. Knock. “Luna?” I held my breath. The sound of that voice froze my entire body. Not Damar. Not Keanu. I’d heard it earlier today. In a recording from May 17. The voice that said— You never should’ve dated him in the first place. The person on the other side of the door knocked again. “Luna, open up. We need to talk.” My hand covered my mouth. Because this time, I knew exactly who that voice belonged to. And the name that came to mind was the one name I didn’t want to believe.