The next morning was heavy with the silence of grief. Alya's mother moved about the house with quiet efficiency, packing clothes into a small travel bag.
"Balqis, Firdaus, and I are going to Negeri Sembilan," she told Alya gently. "We'll stay with the relatives for a few days. You should come too."
But Alya shook her head. "No, Ibu. I just… I need to rest. I'll stay here."
Her mother hesitated but nodded. Firdaus was already outside, loading his bag into the trunk of his car. Balqis followed after him, waving at Alya before climbing in. Moments later, the car pulled away, leaving Alya alone in the quiet house.
She closed her bedroom door, ready to collapse back into bed, when—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Her head snapped toward the front of the house. Three sharp raps at the door.
Cautiously, Alya opened it.
Standing there was Balqis.
Alya blinked in confusion. "Balqis? Why are you back? Didn't you just leave with Ibu and Firdaus?"
Balqis smiled faintly, too faintly. "I forgot something. I need to meet someone. Will you come with me? Just for a little while. It's important."
Before Alya could protest, Balqis was already walking toward her own car parked outside. Alya hesitated. Something felt wrong, but she followed anyway, sliding into the passenger seat.
---
The drive stretched on in silence. Alya glanced at the passing signboards, her stomach tightening as one word burned in the headlights:
Karak Highway.
Her throat went dry. "Balqis… why are we going here? Who are we meeting?"
Balqis said nothing. She just kept driving, her face illuminated pale by the dashboard lights, expression unreadable.
Then, without warning, she pulled the car over. Right in the middle of the empty highway.
"Balqis!" Alya's voice cracked. "What are you doing? Who are you meeting?"
Her sister stepped out into the dark road, closing the door softly behind her. No answer. No explanation. Just silence.
Alya sat frozen, gripping the seat. Her phone buzzed suddenly in her pocket. With trembling hands, she answered without checking the screen.
"Hello?"
Her blood turned to ice.
It was Balqis's voice—her real voice.
"Alya? Why are you taking my car? I'm still with Ibu and Firdaus. We're on our way home."
Alya's chest seized. She glanced at the driver's seat—empty. The figure that had left moments ago was gone, swallowed by the darkness of the highway.
Her hands shook violently. "Balqis…" she whispered into the phone. "If you're with Ibu, then who was just driving me here?"
No answer. Just static.
Panic surged. She didn't dare step outside. Instead, she slid into the driver's seat and jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life. Alya pressed the accelerator, fleeing the highway as fast as the car could carry her.
---
When she finally reached home, her mother's car was already there. Standing by the front door were Ibu, Firdaus, and Balqis—all three of them, alive and real, waving at her with tired smiles.
"You came back fast," Alya said breathlessly, stumbling out of the car. "Why?"
Her mother frowned. "The relatives weren't home. We turned back."
Alya stared at them, her pulse still racing. She turned to Balqis—her real sister, standing safely by her mother's side.
Her mouth went dry.
If Balqis had been with Ibu all along…
Then what had she just followed onto the Karak Highway?