Raka didn’t answer right away.
Grandma Ida’s last words kept spinning through his head.
“The person you’ve been calling family all this time.”
Who did she mean?
His father was dead.
His mother lived in the city.
Bimo had only been his best friend since childhood.
And the only family in this house now was Grandma Ida.
Raka stared at the old woman in front of him.
“Grandma…”
His voice was soft.
“Don’t tell me you mean—”
Grandma Ida cut him off.
“Not me.”
Raka fell silent.
That answer should have relieved him, but instead it only left his thoughts even more tangled.
“If not you, then who?”
Grandma Ida lowered her head.
“I can’t tell you yet.”
Raka almost laughed in frustration.
“Why is it always like this?”
“What?”
“Everyone knows something, but no one wants to speak plainly.”
“I only want to protect you.”
“But I’m already involved.”
Raka held up his father’s notebook.
“My father was involved too, until he ended up dead.”
Grandma Ida closed her eyes.
Hearing Raka mention his father immediately changed her expression.
“Don’t talk like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I still blame myself to this day.”
Raka fell silent.
“I feel guilty.”
“For what?”
Grandma Ida looked at the photograph she had been holding.
“Because if I’d told the truth back then, maybe your father would still be alive.”
The room fell silent.
Raka sat down closer to her.
“Grandma, tell me everything.”
Grandma Ida rubbed her face.
“All right.”
For the first time since Raka had come home, Grandma Ida didn’t try to avoid the subject.
“But you have to promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“No matter what you hear, don’t make any decisions right away.”
Raka nodded.
“Tell me.”
Grandma Ida drew a long breath.
“Thirty years ago, before Sari disappeared, there was someone who often came to this house.”
“Who?”
“A man.”
“What was his name?”
Grandma Ida was quiet for a moment.
“Arman.”
Raka furrowed his brow.
“Who’s Arman?”
“Someone our family used to trust.”
“Sari’s friend?”
“Yes.”
“What does he have to do with my father?”
Grandma Ida looked at the notebook.
“Your father found Arman’s name in Sari’s old notes.”
Raka opened the notebook.
He flipped through several pages.
There were many of his father’s entries he hadn’t read yet.
“Dad knew about Arman?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“He went looking for him.”
Raka stared at Grandma Ida.
“Is he still alive?”
Grandma Ida didn’t answer.
Once again, her silence made Raka even more certain that something major was going on.
“Grandma.”
“Arman has never been found.”
“Never been found?”
“Yes.”
“Then he could still be out there?”
Grandma Ida looked at him.
“That’s what frightened your father.”
Raka stood up.
“So the person my father was looking for wasn’t a ghost or something supernatural.”
“No.”
“A human being?”
“Yes.”
Raka began to think.
All this time, every incident had seemed connected to something unseen.
Voices.
Shadows.
The rocking chair moving.
But maybe there was someone behind it all.
Someone deliberately trying to scare them.
Suddenly, a sound came from the living room.
Creak…
Creak…
They both fell silent.
Raka turned.
“Grandma.”
“I hear it.”
The sound of the chair came again.
Creak…
Creak…
Then came the sound of something falling.
Thud!
Grandma Ida immediately stood up.
“The key.”
Raka looked at the table.
The black key was still there.
“Where are you going?”
“Your father’s room.”
“Why?”
“Because there’s something you need to see.”
Raka followed Grandma Ida out of the room.
They walked toward the end of the hallway.
There was an old wooden door there.
It was different from all the other doors.
The paint had peeled away.
The doorknob was covered in dust.
As if it hadn’t been touched in a very long time.
Grandma Ida stopped in front of it.
“This is your father’s room.”
Raka stared at the door.
He felt something strange standing there.
As if the room had been waiting for him.
Grandma Ida handed him the key.
“Open it.”
Raka took it.
“Why are you letting me now?”
“Because I realize you won’t stop.”
Raka inserted the key.
Click.
The door opened.
The stale smell of the room immediately drifted out.
Dust swirled through the air.
Raka turned on the light.
It flickered several times before finally coming on.
The room was simple.
There was a desk.
A bookshelf.
A wardrobe.
And several neatly stacked boxes.
But what made Raka stop was the wall in front of the desk.
It was covered in photographs.
Photographs of his father.
Photographs of Grandma Ida.
Photographs of Sari.
And one photograph that immediately changed Raka’s expression.
A photograph of a man.
A man he had never seen before.
There was writing beneath the photograph.
“Arman.”
Raka stepped closer.
“Grandma…”
“What?”
“My father found him.”
Grandma Ida moved closer.
There were several notes beneath Arman’s photograph.
Raka read one of them.
“The last person who was with Sari that night.”
Raka’s heart began to race.
He picked up another note.
“I believe Arman knows what really happened.”
Then there was another line.
“I’m not sure Ida has told me everything.”
Raka looked at Grandma Ida.
“Grandma…”
Grandma Ida said nothing.
Raka opened the desk drawer.
Inside was an old voice recording.
A small recorder.
A date was written on top.
Three days before his father died.
Raka stared at the device.
“What is this?”
Grandma Ida looked panicked.
“Don’t play it.”
“Why not?”
“Raka.”
“If this is my father’s last message, I have to hear it.”
Grandma Ida tried to take it from him.
But Raka stepped back.
He pressed play.
At first, all he heard was static.
Then his father’s voice came through.
“If you’re hearing this recording, it means I can’t come back.”
Raka immediately fell silent.
The voice on the recording sounded heavy.
“I found something out about the night Sari disappeared.”
There was the sound of breathing.
“I’ve spent fifteen years searching for answers.”
Raka looked at Grandma Ida.
“Fifteen years?”
That meant his father had been searching for a long time.
The recording continued.
“The person we trusted all this time was hiding a terrible secret.”
His father’s voice grew softer.
“I was wrong to trust him so completely.”
Then came the sound of something falling in the recording.
Then his father’s voice again.
“If something happens to me…”
The recording stopped for several seconds.
“I want Raka to know…”
The voice changed.
“I wasn’t the victim of an accident.”
Raka froze.
Grandma Ida covered her mouth.
“Your father…”
The recording continued.
“Someone tried to stop me.”
Then another voice could be heard.
A man’s voice.
Close by.
As if he were standing beside Raka’s father.
“I told you not to get involved.”
Raka immediately stared at the recorder.
Who was that?
His father’s voice sounded panicked.
“Arman?”
The recording stopped.
The room fell silent.
Raka stood completely still.
One name had just appeared.
Arman.
The man they had been searching for all this time.
But what frightened Raka most was one thing.
Arman wasn’t merely someone from the past.
He was still alive.
And maybe…
He was still somewhere around them.