Chapter 1 — On Air Raka sat in his chair as usual. His earphones were already in both ears.
In front of him, a microphone stood upright, ready to record every word that would leave his mouth.
The camera in front of him was already on too, while the laptop sitting neatly on the desk displayed an inbox that had been overflowing with messages from his followers for a while now.
The little light beside the desk came on. ON AIR.
Without thinking much, Raka leaned his face toward the microphone.
“Welcome back to my channel... The Never-Empty Inbox.”
He paused for a moment, then smiled at the camera.
“What’s the password? Read it for me...”
His voice had a distinctive quality. Relaxed, slightly teasing, and sounding as if he were chatting with a friend.
Yep. Raka Prabumi. A YouTuber with quite a lot of followers. His channel was known for one thing—stories. Not stories he made himself. But stories sent in by his viewers.
About love. About friendship. About family. About betrayal. Even about things that might be too difficult to tell the people closest to them.
Raka’s inbox was almost never truly empty. And tonight was no different.
Raka shifted his chair a little, then looked at the laptop screen in front of him.
“Okay, guys. Today I’m gonna read you a story that’s... well, a little sentimental.”
He rubbed his chin while reading the first few lines.
“So get your tissues ready, okay? Especially you girls.”
Raka chuckled softly.
“Let’s get right into it and read the story aloud.”
His voice grew gentler as he began reading the incoming message.
“‘Hi, Raka. You can call me Qiara. I work as a nurse at a psychiatric hospital.’”
Raka stopped reading. “Ooh... Qiara’s job is interesting.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly. “Okay, keep going.”
His eyes moved along the writing on the screen again.
“‘As a nurse at a psychiatric hospital, I’m always dealing with all kinds of patients who are pretty unique and exhausting. But...’”
Raka stopped for a moment.
His eyes narrowed, as if he could already guess that the next part would be the heart of the story. He continued.
“‘There’s one patient whose love story I can’t forget. A love they could never have, but one that still lingers to this day.’”
Raka fell silent. His smile slowly faded.
“‘The patient’s name... is Nara.’” Raka stared at the screen for several seconds.
“Hmm...” His hand propped up his chin.
“This doesn’t sound like an ordinary story, though.”
He started reading again. And that night, for the first time, Raka heard the story of a patient named Nara.
A love story that even after all these years... still wasn’t truly over.
> “The man at the end of the hallway wearing a Navy uniform always comes to the hospital pavilion every Sunday.”
Raka stopped reading. “Hmm...” He stared at the laptop screen for a few seconds, then slowly nodded.
“Okay, just from the opening, this already feels pretty mysterious.” His hand moved the mouse. “Keep going.” -------- 💐 Qiara — Coming Home (Part 1)
The man at the end of the hallway wearing a Navy uniform always comes to the hospital pavilion every Sunday. I always see him. His uniform is almost never wrinkled. Even after all these years, he still looks so neat, as if time has never truly touched him. Only the watch on his left wrist seems different. Faded. Old. As if it had been attached there for far too long and had never truly been taken off.