Outside the fence of the house that used to be like her own world, Layla stood stiffly. Her eyes didn't blink. The house looked normal but now, it wasn't hers anymore.
Mom sat on the worn bench at the bus station, her hands still tightly gripping her tattered handbag. There was no sound. Only the sound of birds that had just started chirping as if the world was still moving, even though her own world had just been destroyed.
She tried to swallow, but her throat was tight. It was like it was stuck. In her chest, anger and confusion fought without direction.
"Father never liked Kamal..." her voice sank a little.
Mom was silent, looking away. As if she heard, but didn't want to answer.
"We can't let him take everything like that."
Mom was silent. It was like she didn't know what to say.
"Mom? We have to do something. We have to"
"Your father... is gone." Mom's voice cracked a little. "Now, it's just the two of us."
Layla bit her lip. Her eyes were red but still not dripping. Tears? Not yet. Not in front of people. Not now.
She looked back. The house where she grew up, where Irfan ran around, where dad laughed at dinner. All that, only memories now.
Kamal grabbed them all. It was like he had been waiting for that moment.
But he wouldn't take away their dignity.
And he wouldn't let go just like that.
Two days after everything was destroyed, Layla arrived in front of her father's lawyer's office. The old building. The smell of musty paper. Even the signboard was tilted to one side.
Not like the fancy corporate office she used to visit with her father.
She exhaled slowly. Trying to calm down. But her hands were still cold.
"Your father's old lawyer has something for you," the mysterious voice from the phone call yesterday still rang.
No name. No explanation. Just a gruff voice telling her to come in.
She knocked on the door.
"Come in," answered an old voice from inside.
The old man looked at her as if he knew she was coming.
"Layla binti Faris?" he asked.
She nodded.
The man handed her a thick envelope. Without a word.
"From your father. For you only. He told me to keep it and only give it to you when something... happens."
Layla's hands trembled. She opened it slowly. Inside was a letter, a USB drive, and an old photo.
On the back of the photo, was her father's handwriting.
"Trust your instincts. Kamal cannot be trusted. Start with this file and don't let anyone know you know."
Layla clutched the letter tightly.
Ever since the day her father died, everything inside her had been silent. But this time... a fire had started to burn.
Hope.
And revenge.