Raka was still standing outside Grandma Ida's bedroom, clutching the red bracelet.
His hand felt cold.
Not because of the night air. And not because of the fan turning slowly in the corner of the living room.
Something had felt wrong ever since Grandma Ida mentioned Sari's name.
"The person who owned this bracelet died thirty years ago?"
Grandma Ida didn't answer.
The old woman only stared at the bracelet in Raka's hand, her expression impossible to read. There was fear, sadness, and something like guilt that she'd been keeping buried all this time.
"Grandma."
"Give it back."
Raka held out the bracelet.
Grandma Ida snatched it quickly.
"From now on, don't ever touch that thing again."
"Why?"
"You don't have to know everything."
Raka sighed.
"But if there's really nothing going on, why are you scared?"
Grandma Ida gave him a sharp look.
"I'm not scared."
"Then what?"
"I just don't want you getting dragged into this trouble."
That only made Raka more curious.
"What trouble?"
Grandma Ida closed her bedroom door.
"We'll talk in the morning."
The door shut immediately.
Raka stood alone in the hallway.
He stared at the door for a few moments.
"Grandma's getting weirder and weirder."
A faint sound came from the living room.
Creak.
Raka turned at once.
The rocking chair was still in front of Grandma Ida's bedroom.
Even though a few minutes ago, it had been in the middle of the room.
Raka walked closer.
He crouched down and examined the floor.
There were fresh scrape marks beneath the chair legs.
"That thing's way too heavy to have moved just because of the wind."
Raka touched the floor.
Then he saw something.
Dirt tracks.
It looked as if someone had just walked from the back door to the chair.
Raka followed the tracks.
One step.
Two steps.
Three steps.
The tracks stopped right in front of the chair.
Raka frowned.
"This dirt came from outside."
He turned toward the back door.
It was closed.
But it wasn't locked.
Raka walked closer.
Just as his hand reached for the doorknob, a voice came from behind him.
"Don't open it."
Raka was so startled he nearly jumped.
Grandma Ida was standing behind him.
"Grandma!"
"Go to your room."
"But the door isn't locked."
"I unlocked it."
"Why?"
"Because I went outside for a little while."
Raka looked down at Grandma Ida's feet.
Dirt clung to the old woman's sandals.
Raka immediately looked at her face.
"Where did you go, Grandma?"
Grandma Ida said nothing.
"Out back?"
"Raka."
"Why was Sari's bracelet in the rocking chair?"
Grandma Ida closed her eyes.
"Tomorrow."
"Tomorrow again."
"If you keep asking questions tonight, you won't be able to sleep."
Raka let out a quiet laugh.
"I haven't been able to sleep this whole time, Grandma."
Grandma Ida didn't respond.
She took the key to the back door and locked it.
"Go inside."
Raka finally went back to his room.
But his curiosity made it hard to close his eyes.
He picked up his phone and checked the time.
12:17 a.m.
Raka opened his conversation with Bimo.
"Bro."
The reply came immediately.
"What's up?"
"Have you ever heard the name Sari?"
A few seconds later, a reply appeared.
"Which Sari?"
"I don't know."
"Then why are you asking?"
Raka typed out a long message, then deleted it.
In the end, he sent a photo of the red bracelet he'd managed to take before Grandma Ida snatched it away.
Bimo read the message.
"That bracelet's really nice."
"There's a name inside it. Sari."
Bimo took a long time to reply.
Then a new message appeared.
"Are you serious?"
"Yeah."
"Don't mess with me."
"I'm not messing with you."
"I'll come to your grandma's house tomorrow."
Raka smiled.
"What time?"
"Afternoon."
"Okay."
Raka set down his phone.
Less than a minute later, another notification sounded.
A message from Bimo.
"Rak, I've heard that name before."
Raka sat straight up.
"From who?"
There was no reply.
Raka waited.
Five minutes.
Ten minutes.
Still nothing.
He called Bimo.
The first call went unanswered.
The second was the same.
As he was about to call a third time, he heard the rocking chair moving again.
Creak...
Creak...
Raka turned off his phone screen.
He didn't dare leave his room.
The sound seemed to be getting closer.
Creak...
Creak...
Creak...
Then it stopped.
Raka held his breath.
There was the sound of footsteps.
Slow.
One step.
Stop.
Then another step.
Raka stared at his bedroom door.
A shadow appeared beneath the gap.
Someone was standing outside.
Raka grabbed the broom handle beside the wardrobe.
"Who is it?"
There was no answer.
The shadow was still there.
Raka approached the door.
"If that's you, Grandma, answer me."
Silence.
He lowered his head slightly.
The shadow moved.
Then it disappeared.
Raka opened the door at once.
The hallway was empty.
He turned on the light.
"No way..."
Raka walked into the living room.
The rocking chair was still in its place.
But now something was sitting in it.
A woman.
Her long hair covered part of her face.
Raka stopped.
His body went rigid.
"Who are you?"
The woman didn't move.
Raka took a step back.
"Grandma?"
The woman slowly raised her head.
Her hair still covered her face.
Raka couldn't see her clearly.
Suddenly, the woman whispered.
"Raka..."
It was the same voice he'd heard before.
Raka backed away again.
"Who are you?"
The woman raised a hand.
Her finger pointed toward Grandma Ida's bedroom.
"She's lying."
Raka swallowed.
"Who?"
"Ida."
Raka froze.
Before he could ask another question, the living room light went out.
Darkness.
Raka immediately turned on his phone's flashlight.
The chair was empty.
The woman was gone.
Raka ran to Grandma Ida's room.
"Grandma!"
The door was open.
The bed was empty.
"Grandma?"
Raka turned on the light.
There was no one there.
He checked the bathroom.
Empty.
The kitchen was empty too.
Raka began to panic.
"Grandma Ida!"
Something fell in the backyard.
Bang!
Raka slipped on his sandals and went outside.
"Grandma?"
The backyard was dark.
Only moonlight filtered through the gaps between the trees.
Raka walked slowly.
Then he saw something near the mango tree.
Grandma Ida's shawl.
Lying on the ground.
Raka picked it up.
"Grandma..."
Suddenly, his phone rang.
Bimo.
Raka answered immediately.
"Bro, where are you?"
Bimo sounded panicked.
"Rak, don't leave the house."
"Why?"
"I just remembered who Sari is."
Raka stared at the dark yard in front of him.
"Who?"
"Sari was your grandma's older sister."
Raka fell silent.
Bimo continued.
"And there's an even worse story."
"What?"
"She didn't die of an illness."
Raka gripped his phone tightly.
"Then what happened?"
"She disappeared."
Raka looked at Grandma Ida's shawl.
"Who told you that?"
"My grandma."
"And?"
Bimo took a breath.
"My grandma said that thirty years ago, Sari was last seen sitting in the rocking chair at your grandma's house."
Raka stared at the chair in the distance.
It was visible through the open back door.
Rocking slowly.
Creak...
Creak...
A chill crawled up the back of Raka's neck.
"Bro..."
"What?"
"If Sari disappeared, why did Grandma Ida say she died?"
Bimo fell silent.
A few seconds later, his voice came quietly through the phone.
"Because maybe Grandma Ida knows something no one else does."
Raka didn't have time to answer.
The sound of something breaking came from inside the house.
Crash!
Raka ran inside.
"Grandma!"
The living room was empty.
But on the floor, right in front of the rocking chair, lay an old photograph with shattered glass.
Raka crouched down and picked it up.
A family photo.
There was Grandma Ida when she was young.
There was a woman whose face looked remarkably like Grandma Ida's.
And standing between them was a young boy.
Raka stared at the boy.
The face looked familiar.
He turned over the photo.
There was handwriting on the back.
"For Raka, if you ever come home someday."
A chill ran through Raka.
He read the next line.
"Don't believe everything Grandma Ida tells you."
Raka stared at the photo for a long time.
Then footsteps sounded from the front door.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Three knocks.
Raka slowly stood.
"Grandma?"
There was no answer.
The knocking came again.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Raka walked toward the door.
His hand nearly touched the knob.
A man's voice came from outside.
"Raka."
He stopped.
It wasn't Bimo's voice.
It wasn't a neighbor's voice.
And what frightened Raka most was that he recognized it.
It was his father's voice.