It was 1:03 a.m. when Arga finally decided to go to sleep.
The black box was back in the desk drawer. The photo he had been holding was also back in its original place.
He even made sure the drawer was locked.
Twice.
But when he lay down, his thoughts did not lock away with it.
He tried to remember the last time he had heard someone say Nara's name.
It might have been years ago.
After everything happened, the name seemed to slowly disappear from the conversations of the people around him. At first, Raka still mentioned her a few times. A few college friends had also asked whether Arga was doing all right.
Then time passed.
The questions stopped.
People moved on with their lives.
Arga did the same.
He worked, moved to a new place, met new people, fell in love again, and lived through days that had nothing to do with the past.
Or at least, that was what he had believed all this time.
His hand groped for the phone beside his pillow.
He opened his contacts.
After a few seconds of searching, a name he had not touched in a long time appeared.
Raka.
The number was still saved.
Arga stared at the name for a long time.
Raka was the person who knew the most about Nara besides Arga himself. They had once been close friends. They had been together almost every day in college. Even after everything happened, Raka remained one of the few people who kept coming by and keeping him company.
But that relationship had slowly faded away.
There had been no arguments.
No major incident.
They had simply talked less and less until, eventually, they stopped talking altogether.
Arga opened their old conversation.
Raka's last message had been sent almost seven years ago.
Let me know if you need anything.
Arga had never replied.
He did not know why.
Maybe because, at the time, he felt he did not need anything.
Or maybe because some people were so close to a memory that contacting them felt like reopening something he had worked so hard to close.
Arga left the conversation.
He did not contact Raka.
Not yet.
He put the phone back down.
This time, he managed to fall asleep.
At 6:12 a.m., Arga woke up.
For a moment, he forgot about the night before.
Then the memory came back.
The message.
The unfamiliar number.
The photo.
Nara.
He reached for his phone.
The screen was filled with new notifications. Birthday wishes from his family, a few messages from friends, notifications from the office group chat, and one message from Maya sent a few minutes after midnight.
“Happy birthday to the most stubborn person I've ever known.”
A few seconds later, a second message arrived.
“And don't tell me you forgot again.”
Arga smiled faintly.
He replied:
“Thank you.”
Maya's reply came almost instantly.
“That's it?”
Arga thought for a moment.
“Thank you very much.”
Three dots appeared.
Then:
“Seriously.”
Arga's smile lasted a little longer.
For a while, the message from the unfamiliar number felt like something unimportant. A minor interruption that had happened late on an already-too-late night.
He got up, showered, and got ready for work.
Today was July 18, 2026.
His birthday.
And like the years before, life did not change just because one number had increased.
Maya was already waiting for him when Arga arrived at the office.
She knew right away that something was wrong.
“You didn't get enough sleep.”
Arga set his bag on his chair.
“A little.”
“Why?”
“It's nothing.”
Maya looked at him.
“You look obvious when you lie.”
“I'm not lying.”
“Then there is something.”
Arga turned on his computer.
Maya did not leave.
“Did someone call last night?”
“No.”
“Text you?”
Arga paused.
Something inside him told him not to mention it. But another part of him felt a little lighter simply knowing that someone else had heard about it.
“An unfamiliar number.”
Maya immediately pulled a chair over beside his desk.
“What did they say?”
“Birthday wishes.”
“What time?”
“Midnight.”
“Who was it?”
“I don't know.”
Maya watched him.
“Then?”
Arga hesitated before answering.
“They knew about the old photo.”
Maya's expression shifted slightly.
“What photo?”
“The one from college.”
“A photo of you with who?”
Arga looked at the computer screen.
“Friends.”
He deliberately did not mention Nara's name.
Maya did not press him.
But a few seconds later, she said, “Sometimes people do show up again after years.”
Arga turned toward her.
“What do you mean?”
Maya shrugged.
“You know, old friends. Old acquaintances. Who knows.”
Arga studied her face.
“Do you know something?”
Maya immediately shook her head.
“No.”
There was a pause.
Then Maya stood up.
“Enough. Don't think about it.”
She returned to her desk.
Arga watched her go.
Something about the conversation was strange, but he did not know whether the strangeness came from Maya or only from his own mind, which was searching for connections between things that were not actually connected.
He went back to work.
Morning turned into afternoon.
Afternoon turned into evening.
And for the next few hours, there were no more messages.
Arga began to believe that everything really was over.
Until 4:37 p.m.
His phone vibrated.
The same number.
He opened it.
Are you still wearing the same watch?
Arga instinctively looked at his wrist.
The old watch was still there.
The watch he had worn for years.
He did not reply.
A second message appeared.
Turns out you haven't changed much.
Arga stared at the screen.
This time, the unease was clearer.