Haya was still asleep when the dream found him again.
He stood on the same shore as before, the place that had refused to leave his thoughts even after waking. But now, it was night. The world was painted in silver and deep blue, shaped by the full moon that hung high in the sky. Its light spilled across the sea and the sand, turning the waves into slow-moving glass.
The air was cool, but not cold. It carried the scent of salt and something faintly sweet, like summer that had refused to fade.
She was there.
The little girl stood near the edge of the water, facing the ocean. She wore the same simple summer dress, light and pale, moving gently with the breeze. But the straw hat was gone. Her hair flowed freely now, long and dark, lifted softly by the wind like it was part of the night itself.
Haya stood several steps behind her.
At first, he couldn't move.
His hands trembled, his fingers curling slowly into his palms. His heartbeat felt louder than the waves. Fear rose in his chest, sharp and sudden, telling him to turn away, to wake up, to escape whatever this was.
But beneath the fear, there was something else.
A weight.
A heavy, unanswered feeling that had been pressing against his heart for longer than he could remember. The same feeling that followed him even when he was awake. The same one that made his chest tighten when he thought about her.
He had run from it before.
Not this time.
Haya took a small step forward. The sand shifted under his feet, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the dream. She didn't turn.
Another step.
His throat felt dry. His courage fragile. But he forced himself to speak.
"Hey…" His voice trembled.
"Who are you?"
The wind grew slightly stronger, brushing past him, tugging at his shirt.
"What do you want from me?"
For a moment, nothing happened. Then her voice reached him, soft but clear, like it had always been waiting.
"How cruel of you," she said, "to not remember me… even though I've been waiting here all this time."
Haya's breath caught.
"I… I'm sorry," he replied. "But who are you, really?"
The silence that followed was heavier than any sound.
"Cruel," she said again, this time with something almost like sadness.
"Cruel, after everything we did together."
Slowly, she began to turn toward him.
The wind rose suddenly, sweeping across the shore. The waves grew louder. Above them, clouds slid across the moon, dimming its light halfway, as if the sky itself was hesitating.
Haya's heart pounded.
She faced him now.
And his breath left him all at once.
Where her face should have been, there was only distortion. Like an old television screen with no signal. Flickering. Shifting. A blur of light and shadow that refused to form a shape.
"W–What…?" he whispered.
Fear crawled through his veins. Sweat gathered in his palms. His body told him to look away, but he couldn't. Not now. Not when he had come this far.
He clenched his fists.
For the first time in his life, he raised his voice—not in anger, but in desperation.
"I don't know who you are," he shouted, his words breaking through the wind,
"but I want to understand this! I want to know who you are, and what you are!"
The weight in his chest burned.
"I've been carrying this without knowing why. So please… tell me. Who are—"
He stopped.
The static on her face began to change.
Slowly, like fog lifting from a lake, her mouth and lips emerged beneath the distortion. The flickering faded little by little, revealing a warm, gentle smile.
A smile that didn't belong to fear.
A smile that belonged to memory.
Haya froze.
His heart softened, even as confusion twisted inside him.
Before he could speak again, she tilted her head slightly.
"Oh," she said quietly.
"It's already time."
Haya's eyes widened.
"Time… for what?"
She took a small step back, her form beginning to feel less solid, like a reflection disturbed by water.
"I hope," she said softly,
"you keep your promise this time."
"Wait!" Haya reached out. "What promise? I don't even remember—"
Her figure blurred.
The moon disappeared behind the clouds.
And the sound of the sea collapsed into silence.
Haya woke up with a sharp breath.
The world rushed back into him all at once. The ceiling above, the faint outline of the window, the quiet hum of early morning. His heart was pounding as if he had been running, and his shirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat.
Outside, the sky was still dark.
Not completely black, but heavy with deep blue and gray, like night was slowly loosening its grip. Dawn hadn't arrived yet. It was that strange hour where time felt suspended, where the world held its breath before beginning again.
His chest rose and fell unevenly. The dream was still inside him. Too close. Too real.
That smile.
That voice.
I hope you keep your promise this time.
He lifted his trembling hand and pressed it against his forehead. It was warm. Too warm.
A small movement beside him made him flinch.
"Haya?"
Danish's voice was low and sleepy.
"You good, bro?"
Haya turned his head slowly. In the dim light, he could see Danish sitting up slightly, eyes half-open, concern already settling in his expression.
"You're sweating a lot," Danish said. "Bad dream?"
Haya swallowed.
"Yeah… I think so."
Zul stirred on the other side of the room, turning in his sleep but not waking.
"What time is it?" Haya asked, his voice hoarse.
Danish reached for his phone and squinted at the screen.
"Six in the morning. Still early."
Haya stared toward the window.
"It's still dark."
"Yeah. The sun's not up yet."
Silence returned, but it wasn't empty. It was thick, filled with what Haya hadn't said.
Danish studied him more closely.
"You looked scared."
Haya hesitated.
"I was… confused."
"That worse than scared sometimes."
Haya almost smiled.
The dream replayed in his mind like a broken film. The moon. The static. The smile. The words that felt like they belonged to a past he didn't remember.
"I feel like something is chasing me," Haya said quietly. "Not outside. Inside."
Danish frowned.
"That deep for a morning?"
Haya let out a short breath.
"Sorry."
"Don't be. Just… don't let it eat you."
They lay there in silence for a moment.
Then Danish spoke again, trying to lighten the mood.
"Come on. We said we'd jog. If we sleep more, Amar will drag us out anyway."
Haya nodded slowly.
"Right."
He pushed himself up and sat on the edge of the mattress. His body felt heavy, as if the dream had added weight to his bones. His legs moved, but his thoughts stayed behind.
As he stood, the room felt colder.
The darkness outside pressed gently against the glass, reminding him that the world was still waking, just like he was. Still uncertain. Still unfinished.
In the bathroom, cold water splashed against his face. He looked at his reflection.
His eyes were tired. But beneath the exhaustion was something else.
Determination.
Not strong.
Not loud.
Just… present.
He dried his face and stepped back into the room. Zul was now awake, stretching lazily.
"Morning already?" Zul groaned.
"Unfortunately," Danish replied.
They prepared quietly. Shoes, jackets, a bottle of water. No unnecessary words. Everyone still carried sleep in their movements.
When Haya slipped on his shoes, his chest tightened again.
I hope you keep your promise this time.
He didn't know what promise she meant.
But he knew one thing:
Whatever it was, it wasn't light.
And it wasn't going away.
As they stepped outside, the cool air brushed against his skin. The sky was slowly changing, hinting at color, at motion, at life.
Yet the weight in his heart stayed.
Not crushing.
Not unbearable.
But real.
The house was still quiet when the boys finished preparing. One by one, they washed their faces, the cold water pulling away the last traces of sleep. The sky outside remained dark, heavy with early morning mist, as if dawn was hesitating. After that, they stood together for a short prayer, their voices low and calm, grounding themselves before stepping out into the world.
Just as they were about to head downstairs, a strange, hollow sound echoed through the hallway.
Grrrrrrr.
They all froze.
Zul blinked.
"…That wasn't me."
Another rumble followed, louder this time.
"…Okay, that was me."
Haya and Danish turned to look at him, their expressions shifting between disappointment and amusement.
"Hehehe," Zul laughed awkwardly, rubbing his stomach. "I'm hungry, you see. Is there something I could eat? Just a little. Just to fill my stomach for a while."
Danish crossed his arms.
"We're supposed to jog, not eat."
"Jogging on an empty stomach is cruel," Zul protested. "That's inhumane."
Haya sighed quietly.
"I think there's some bread in the cabinet."
Zul's eyes lit up.
"Really? That's great!"
"Wait a second," Haya said. "I'll bring it out."
He went into the kitchen and returned with a small loaf of bread.
"Here."
Zul took it as if it were treasure.
"Thank you, thank you. You're a lifesaver."
"Suit yourself," Haya replied.
While Zul and Danish settled at the kitchen table, tearing the bread apart and chewing noisily, Haya reached for a mug and began preparing a chocolate drink. The soft clinking of a spoon against the cup echoed lightly in the quiet kitchen.
Meanwhile, Amar stood by the front door outside, his phone in his hand. He had been scrolling mindlessly for a few minutes now, waiting.
"Where are they?" he muttered. "Taking way too long."
Annoyed, he slipped his phone into his pocket and went back inside.
As he reached the stairs, he heard sounds from the kitchen. The clinking of a cup. Quiet laughter. Chewing.
His brows furrowed.
He turned toward the kitchen and stopped at the doorway.
There was Haya, calmly stirring his drink.
Danish and Zul were seated, munching bread like nothing was wrong.
Amar stared at them.
"Oi. I've been waiting long enough, and you guys are here eating?"
Both Haya and Danish spoke at the same time.
"It was Zul."
Zul nearly choked.
"Heeeeh? You guys, huh?!"
He stared at them in disbelief.
"Betrayal… pure betrayal."
"Well, I'm sorry, Big Bro Amar," Zul said awkwardly. "I was just hungry, so I thought about filling my stomach a little. Hehe."
Amar let out a long sigh.
"Haih… alright. Let's go. We have to go now."
"Okay," Danish replied.
"Wait a bit," Haya said. "I need to finish my drink."
Amar gestured toward the door.
"Hurry up."
A few moments later, they stepped outside together.
The air was freezing. It cut through their thin jackets, making their shoulders tense. Though it was still dark, they could see the path ahead clearly enough. The street lamps glowed dimly, lighting up small patches of road.
They began to jog.
Haya ran on the far left.
Next to him was Zul.
Amar took the middle.
Danish stayed on the right.
Their footsteps hit the road in uneven rhythm, breath forming small clouds in the air.
"So," Amar said between breaths, "Haaah. It feels really good to breathe in this fresh air ",
" It has been so long "
Danish nodded.
"I've been helping my father more at the paddy fields lately. It's tiring, but… never I been out this early."
Zul laughed lightly.
"Really ?. If were me I just watch movies and play games.if there is holidays though. Also Training for my tournament."
Amar raised an eyebrow.
"Living the dream, huh?"
Zul grinned.
"Hehe.Someone has to."
Haya listened. He didn't add anything. His breath was steady, his mind drifting between the dream and the sound of the waves that no one else could hear.
From their home, they ran along the roadside until the road opened near the paddy fields. The darkness stretched wide here, broken only by the reflection of faint lights on the water.
Soon, they reached a junction.
Three ways met, but only two were clear.
The left path led toward the beach.
The other curved toward the sea village.
They stopped.
"So," Zul said, hands on his hips, catching his breath, "which way?"
Haya looked at the road leading to the sea village.
"Let's go there."
Everyone turned to him.
"To the sea village?" Danish asked. "Why?"
Haya hesitated.
"I don't know. Just… to see around, maybe."
Amar studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"Alright."
They turned toward the village.
The sea village was already alive, even though the sky was still painted in deep blue and faint grey. The sun had not yet shown itself, but its presence could be felt, like a breath being held before a long exhale.
As they entered through the tall pillars, Haya slowed his steps. The sculpture above them, carved with sharp lines and flowing curves, stood proudly. Though none of them could read the Chinese characters properly, the meaning was clear enough.
Sea Village.
"Looks cooler in the dark," Zul muttered. "Like some secret place."
Danish nodded. "Yeah… feels different from our town."
The streets were narrow. Houses stood close to one another, some made of wood with faded paint, others built of brick, strong and sturdy against the salty air. Fishing nets were hung along fences and walls. Plastic crates were stacked neatly beside doors. Buckets filled with seawater reflected the dim light from hanging bulbs.
And the smell—
Fresh fish.
Salt.
Wet wood.
Ice.
Life.
The air was thick with it.
"Wow… it's busy already," Zul said, wrinkling his nose. "And smelly."
"That's how you know it's real," Amar replied. "Fresh from the sea."
People moved quickly, confidently. Men carried boxes of fish on their shoulders. Women shouted prices and greetings. Some laughed, some argued. There were no children in sight—only adults who had learned to wake before the sun.
"This is my first time coming here this early," Danish said. "It's kinda… impressive."
"Hahaha," Amar laughed. "I used to work here during semester breaks. Bet my old boss wouldn't even recognize me now."
"What? You worked here?" Zul looked shocked. "Since when?"
"Since I needed money," Amar replied simply.
Haya stayed quiet, walking a little behind them. His eyes scanned the faces in the crowd, the movement, the energy. It felt strange being here after the dream, after that blurred face and warm smile that still lingered in his chest like a soft echo.
"What are we doing here again?" Zul asked. "Shouldn't we just go to the beach?"
"Well," Danish said, "it's my first time seeing this too. So… not bad."
Amar smiled. "Same. Brings back memories."
Haya finally spoke.
"There's somewhere I want to go."
All three of them turned to him.
"Where?" Zul asked.
"Just follow me."
They didn't question it. They trusted him enough for that.
They moved through the crowd, carefully stepping between baskets and people. The fish smell grew stronger, but so did the sense of purpose in Haya's steps. His heart beat faster, not from jogging, but from anticipation.
After a while, the noise softened. The crowd thinned. And ahead of them was a narrow path, like a bridge, with seawater running on both sides.
"That's… a bit risky," Zul said.
"It's fine," Haya replied. "Just walk carefully."
He stepped first.
The wooden boards creaked slightly beneath his feet. Amar followed, then Danish, then Zul.
The sea beside them was calm, dark, and endless. It reflected the faintest light of the coming sunrise. The air here felt cooler, purer.
After crossing, they reached an open space.
A dock.
Small.
Quiet.
Just wide enough to fit a volleyball court.
They sat at the edge, letting their legs hang freely above the water.
"What are we doing here?" Zul asked again.
"Just wait," Haya said.
Amar and Danish exchanged glances, then shrugged.
They waited.
The world slowly changed colors.
From deep blue…
To soft purple…
To pale gold.
And then—
From the left side, shapes began to appear.
First, a shadow of something large.
Then details.
A dragon statue, coiled and proud, carved in stone.
Behind it, a Chinese temple, its roof edges sharp and elegant, lanterns still dim but visible.
The sunlight touched them gently, as if revealing a secret.
"It's… beautiful," Danish whispered.
Zul stared. "Okay… I take it back. This was worth it."
Amar smiled. "You picked a good place, Haya."
Haya didn't reply immediately.
"Yes," he said softly. "It is."
For a moment, the weight in his chest felt lighter.
Not gone.
But easier to carry.
They stayed there for a while, talking quietly about nothing and everything. About how strange it felt to grow up. About how the world seemed bigger after high school ended. About how each day now felt like a blank page.
After the sun fully rose, they left the dock and walked back toward the village.
"I'm starving," Zul announced. "Again."
"Hahaha, didn't you just eat?" Danish teased.
"Bread is not food. Bread is air."
They found a small kopitiam near the corner of the village. Plastic chairs. A few old tables. Steam rising from kettles. The smell of coffee and fried eggs welcomed them.
They ordered simple breakfasts.
Hot tea.
Coffee.
Nasi lemak.
Half-boiled eggs.
Toast.
As they ate, Amar leaned back slightly and looked at Haya.
"So… how's your life been?"
Haya paused.
He thought of .
The quiet mornings.
The dream.
The girl.
The blurred face.
The smile.
"It's… normal," he said. "Nothing special."
"Just that?" Amar asked gently.
Haya nodded. "Yeah. There's nothing else, really."
"If you say so... "
Amar watched him closely but didn't push.
Sometimes, silence said more than words.
Outside, the village continued to breathe. Boats moved. People worked. Life went on.
And inside Haya, the weight remained.
Not crushing.
Not unbearable.
But present.
Waiting.