Bawang Merah was gone.
Her room was empty. Her bed cold.
Putih searched every inch of the house.
No blood. No struggle.
But her mirror—shattered.
Only one thing was left in the center of the floor.
A photo. Burnt at the edges.
Putih and Jahe as children.
And someone else behind them.
A tall figure in the shadows.
A face too long.
Limbs too thin.
Not possible.
He turned the photo over.
One word was written on the back.
"REMEMBER."
He ran to the old bridge.
The place where it happened.
Where Jahe had died.
The wind howled through the trees like voices.
Putih shouted into the dark. "Give her back!"
Nothing answered.
But Jahe appeared beside him.
Not smiling now.
Just watching.
"I can show you the truth," Jahe said. "But you won't like it."
"I don't care."
Jahe nodded once.
Then turned.
And walked into the forest.
Putih followed.