It had been days since Raya disappeared, and the silence in Anna's apartment felt heavier than the air in any police station. Every corner of the space reminded her of her absence—the unwashed coffee mug in the sink, the blanket Raya had tossed carelessly across the couch, the faint trail of her perfume still clinging to the pillows. Raya's presence lingered everywhere, mocking her with the cruel reminder that she was gone.
At first, Anna told herself there had to be a reasonable explanation. Raya was spontaneous, yes, but never careless. She wouldn't vanish without saying where she was going. She wouldn't miss her shifts at work. She would never let her phone stay off for more than an hour. Raya was dependable, no matter how chaotic life became.
Now every passing hour pressed against Anna's chest like a stone. Sleep came only in broken fragments, if at all. She'd wake with her phone clutched tightly in her hand, the screen lighting up her worried face as she checked again and again for a message she knew wouldn't come. Each ping made her heart leap—only for it to crash when it turned out to be a bank notification or a useless promotional text.
The night before Raya vanished, Anna hadn't even seen her. Raya had slipped in so late that Anna was already asleep, curled under her blanket, the ceiling fan humming above her. She'd only realized Raya had been home when she woke and caught the lingering scent of her shampoo, with that sharp citrus note she loved. On her phone sat a single text, short but warm:
Heading to work. Thanks for yesterday. Love you.
Half-awake, Anna had smiled at it. She'd sent her 20,000, a little help for the week, then drifted back to sleep—never imagining it might be the last sign she'd get from her best friend.
By evening, Raya's phone was off. By the next day, news broke that Philip—Raya's father—was missing too. The moment Anna heard it, the puzzle pieces slammed together, twisting her stomach into knots. Raya had once confided in her about the 700,000 debt her family owed to loan sharks. The kind of people who didn't just threaten. The kind of people who took.
Anna was twenty-three, fair-skinned, with tightly coiled hair she usually pulled into a bun when stressed. Her heart-shaped face and expressive dark eyes always gave her away—frustration, worry, joy, everything showed too easily. Among friends, she was the one who took charge, fiercely loyal, unafraid to speak when others stayed quiet. But today, that spark dimmed under the weight of helplessness. Her clothes were simple—jeans, sneakers, a hoodie. No makeup. She wasn't here to impress. She was here to fight for Raya.
The police station had become her second home. Every morning she walked through its faded doors with a folder of Raya's photos clutched to her chest, in case a new officer was on duty. And every morning, she dragged Joseph along. Maybe it was selfish—part of her just needed someone to stand beside her so she didn't feel like she was losing her mind. But it never mattered. She always left with the same pit in her stomach. No updates. No leads. No urgency.
Today was no different.
Joseph walked beside her, his long strides slowing to match hers. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a clean fade haircut and a practiced smile, he looked like the dependable boyfriend every girl wished for. Always well-dressed, always faintly scented of cologne, as if he'd stepped out of an advert. To outsiders, he was perfect.
But Anna knew better. His good looks were understated, pleasant but not striking. His brown eyes thoughtful, but often distant. He was the quiet to her fire, the type who blended in rather than stood out. And lately, she noticed things—how his phone always tilted out of her sight, how his compliments sometimes felt rehearsed. Still, he came with her to the station, and right now, that was enough.
The police station reeked of stale sweat and burnt coffee. Phones rang lazily. A ceiling fan squeaked with every slow turn. Officers shuffled papers, voices droning with the same indifference Anna had grown to hate.
She stepped to the desk, her voice tight with exhaustion.
"Any news on Raya Calder?" She didn't bother with introductions. They knew her by now.
The officer leaned back, pen tapping lazily against his report. "We've got it on record, ma'am. We're working on it. These things take time."
Empty words. The same every day. Anna's jaw clenched. The silence around Raya's case was too deliberate. Someone had ordered them quiet.
"It's been days," Anna pressed, her voice trembling but sharp. "Days, and you haven't found her. Haven't even called me with an update."
"We're doing our best," the officer replied, eyes still down.
"No, you're not." Her hands shook as she slammed Raya's photo onto the desk. "You're doing nothing. Maybe someone told you to stop looking. What use is the police if anyone can just kidnap someone and you all look the other way?"
"Can you calm down, madam?" the officer muttered, irritation flickering in his tone.
"How can I?" Anna's voice rose, chest heaving. "How can I calm down when my best friend is missing?"
"Anna, calm down," Joseph cut in, smooth but impatient.
She turned on him sharply. "Don't tell me to calm down."
He sighed, glancing at his watch as though he had somewhere better to be. "Yelling won't make them move faster," he murmured, tone soft but edged.
"She's my best friend, Joseph."
"I know," he said, pressing a hand to her shoulder. But the touch felt cold, mechanical. "We just need to calm down."
The officer's eyes flickered briefly, something unreadable passing across them, before he dropped his voice. "Look, this is above me. Orders from higher up. Best thing you can do is… let it go."
Her chest tightened. "Let it go? How can I let it go? Raya is just a young girl…" Her voice broke, almost into a sob.
Joseph groaned softly, pulling out his phone. He typed quickly, then tucked it away with an exhale. "We're wasting our time. Let's go."
Anna stood frozen a moment longer, glaring at the officer as if sheer willpower could force him to change his words. But the silence stretched.
It didn't change.
With her chest hollow and her hands trembling, she let Joseph lead her out into the blinding heat of the street. Sweat dampened her hoodie, the air was thick, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was already racing ahead, searching for the next step, the next door to knock on, the next person to beg.
Tomorrow, she would be back. And the day after. And the day after that. Until she found Raya—no matter how many doors she had to break down to get answers.