Rain always carries memories.
For some people, rain is an excuse to enjoy a cup of hot coffee or go to bed early. But for Nara Maheswari, the sound of rain always reminded her of the night that changed her life forever.
The night Alya disappeared.
Nara's phone vibrated softly on her desk.
She let out a long sigh before glancing at the screen. It was already eight p.m. All her coworkers had gone home an hour ago, leaving her alone in the room, which was beginning to feel cold.
"Still working late, Nar?"
The security guard's voice came from behind the door.
"Yeah, Mr. Just a little longer."
The security guard nodded and left.
Nara massaged her temples. The stack of files on her desk seemed endless. She opened the drawer to get her phone charger, but her eyes landed instead on a white envelope that had somehow appeared there.
There was no sender's name.
No stamp.
Only her name, neatly written in black ink.
Nara Maheswari.
Her heart began to beat slowly.
She was sure the drawer had been empty that morning.
Carefully, she opened the envelope.
Inside was a photograph that had yellowed with age.
Her breath caught.
"That's..."
Alya.
The woman in the photograph was smiling broadly as she raised a hand toward the camera. Her long hair blew in the wind, while a crescent-moon necklace hung around her neck.
The necklace that had never been found since she was declared missing three years ago.
Nara's hands began to tremble.
On the back of the photograph was handwriting she knew all too well.
"If you're reading this, it means they haven't found me yet."
Nara's tears nearly fell.
That handwriting...
Alya's handwriting.
At the bottom of the envelope was another slip of paper.
"Come to Arjuna Station on August 12 at 4:00 p.m."
"Come alone."
"Don't trust anyone."
Nara couldn't sleep that night.
She opened the old photo album on her laptop again.
There were hundreds of photos of her and Alya together.
They had met when they were in their first year of high school.
Alya had always been cheerful, loud, and never afraid to try new things.
Nara, on the other hand, was quieter.
"When we're old," Alya said one day with a laugh, "we'll open a bookstore by the beach."
Nara only chuckled.
"A bookstore on the beach?"
"Why not? People can come read while listening to the waves."
"That's called getting the books wet."
Alya laughed so loudly that everyone in the library turned to look.
The memory felt so close.
But everything had ended three years ago.
When Alya disappeared without a trace.
Four days later.
The train carrying Nara pulled into Arjuna Station.
The sky was cloudy again.
As if that city had never truly escaped the rain.
The moment she stepped off the train, the smell of wet earth filled her senses.
Not much had changed.
The same wooden bench.
The large clock that was always two minutes slow.
The little coffee kiosk they used to visit after school.
Nara gripped her bag strap tighter.
She felt uneasy.
Ever since the train stopped, she had felt someone watching her.
She turned around.
There was no one there.
Only people hurrying past, chasing their own schedules.
Maybe it was all in her head.
She walked toward the storage lockers at the end of the platform.
Number 27.
The number written in small print in the corner of the photograph.
Just as she was about to enter the code listed in the letter, someone suddenly bumped into her.
Thud.
The folder in Nara's hand fell to the floor.
Papers scattered everywhere.
"Sorry."
A man's voice sounded calm.
The man immediately crouched down to help gather the files.
Nara crouched down too.
Their hands accidentally touched the same sheet of paper.
They both pulled away.
"Sorry," the man said again with a faint smile.
Nara finally got a clear look at his face.
He looked about twenty-seven.
His skin was fair.
His black hair was slightly messy.
His eyes were calm, but held a sadness that was difficult to explain.
"Is everything there?" he asked.
"Yeah... I think so."
The man handed her the last folder.
But when his eyes caught sight of Alya's photograph sticking slightly out of the folder, his smile slowly faded.
"You know that woman?"
The question left Nara speechless.
"Yes."
"She was my best friend."
The man stared at the photograph for a long moment.
Then he said quietly,
"It's been three years..."
Nara frowned.
"You knew her too?"
The man didn't answer right away.
Instead, he looked toward locker number 27.
His expression changed.
"Don't open that locker alone."
Nara's heart began racing.
"What do you mean?"
The man sighed.
"Because once you open it..."
"...the people who've been silent all this time will start looking for you."
Nara stared at him in confusion.
"Who are you, really?"
The man gave her a faint smile.
"Arga."
"Just Arga."
Before Nara could ask anything else, the announcement of an arriving train echoed throughout the station.
Several people hurried past them.
When Nara looked away for just a moment, Arga was already gone.
"Huh?"
She looked to the right.
Then to the left.
The man had vanished just like that.
All that remained was a small crescent-moon keychain on the floor.
Its shape was exactly the same as the necklace Alya wore in the photograph.
Nara slowly picked it up.
A small number was engraved on the back of the keychain.
27.
A cold breeze swept through the station corridor.
Right then, the light above locker number 27 flickered several times.
Click.
It sounded like the lock had opened by itself.
Nara swallowed hard.
Slowly, she stepped toward the locker.
There was only one thing inside.
An old blue diary.
Written on the front cover in handwriting she knew all too well were the words:
"For Nara. Don't let them find the last page."