Iyaan awoke abruptly to the sound of his phone ringing. The insistent tone cut through the silence of the night, pulling him from the depths of his sleep. Groggily, he reached out, fumbling for the light switch on the wall above his head. The room was instantly bathed in a soft, mid-bright light that cast gentle shadows across the modest space, emanating from the tubelight overhead. Iyaan blinked, his eyes adjusting to the sudden illumination as he groaned and reached for his phone on the sleek, black end table beside the bed.

Burrowing deeper into the warmth of his cozy black blanket, with only his face exposed to the cool air, he picked up the call, his voice still thick with sleep. “Hello?” he mumbled, not even bothering to glance at the caller ID.

The voice on the other end was familiar, and Iyaan recognized it immediately. “Iyaan, it’s Johan,” the voice said, carrying a tone of urgency that should have roused him more, but Iyaan remained unmoved. He had grown accustomed to Johan’s calls over the past year, each one leading to another mundane task that left him drained of any real sense of purpose.

Without much enthusiasm, Iyaan responded, his words laced with fatigue. “I’m not helping with any lost dog cases, sir—”

But Johan cut him off, his tone more serious than Iyaan had ever heard before. “No, Iyaan. This time it’s different. Maybe your prayers were finally heard.”

Those words jolted Iyaan awake like a splash of cold water. “What?” he blurted, sitting up in bed so quickly that the blanket slid off his shoulders, pooling around his waist. The light above him caught his glossy black hair, highlighting the sudden intensity in his expression. This was what he had been waiting for, what had kept him going through the monotony of the past year. When he had first moved to this city, his only goal had been to catch Nur in the act, to bring her to justice for what she had done. But instead, all he had done since joining the violent crimes unit was chase after missing pets and track down stolen goods.

Johan’s words sparked a fire in him that had long been smoldering under the weight of his frustrations. If there was a chance—any chance—that this was related to Nur, Iyaan wasn’t going to miss it.

“Tell me, sir. What is it?” Iyaan demanded, his voice now sharp and alert as he threw off the blanket and leaped out of bed. He strode across the small room to the classy white wardrobe that stood against the far wall, the second piece of furniture in the otherwise sparsely decorated space. He yanked open the doors with both hands, cradling the phone between his ear and right shoulder as Johan continued speaking.

“A case was filed about a missing woman,” Johan began, the gravity of his words pulling Iyaan’s attention even tighter.

“A missing woman? What did the report say?” Iyaan asked, his heart beating faster with each word.

“The girl was mentally unstable,” Johan explained. “She had been visiting a psychiatrist—a well-known one, at that—who helped her recover quickly. The psychiatrist managed to draw her out of her anti-social behavior, and she began to thrive in her social life. But then, just as she was starting to get better, she went missing. She was last seen heading to a café near her home.”

Iyaan listened intently as he pulled a well-ironed black suit from the wardrobe. His fingers traced the fabric, but his mind was elsewhere, piecing together the implications of what Johan was saying. There was a pause on the line, a deliberate moment of suspense before Johan delivered the final, crucial piece of information.

“You know who this well-known psychiatrist was? Your very favorite, Iyaan.”

The name didn’t need to be spoken aloud. Iyaan’s expression shifted, a slow, knowing smirk curving his lips as the truth settled in. Nur. She had finally made a move after an entire year of silence. The very woman he had been hunting, the one who had managed to elude him at every turn, was now within his reach.

As Johan’s words echoed in his mind, Iyaan could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You remained quiet for an entire year, Nur,” he thought to himself, his smirk deepening as he began to suit up, “but now that you’ve dug your grave, I’ll make sure you end up in it.”

He slipped into the black three-piece suit with the practiced ease of someone who knew how to prepare for battle. The fabric fit him perfectly, a testament to the discipline and precision with which he approached his work. As a final touch, he pulled a blue armband over his right arm, adjusting it until it sat snugly in place. The armband was a symbol of the resolve he carried—a promise to himself that he would see this through, no matter the cost.

Iyaan stood before the mirror set into the center of the wardrobe, taking one last look at himself. His reflection stared back at him, eyes sharp and determined. There was no turning back now. Satisfied with his appearance, he grabbed his phone and strode out of the room, the echoes of his footsteps punctuating the silence as he made his way to the main door. Without a moment’s hesitation, he stepped out into the night, ready to face whatever awaited him. This time, he wouldn’t let Nur slip through his fingers.

Nur had caught him off guard back in the café. Her sudden appearance had thrown Iyaan into a tailspin, sending him rushing out in a panic. He hadn’t expected to see her, not here, not after all this time. The sight of her—those familiar, sinister features—had triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, one that he hadn’t been prepared for.

But now, sitting in his car, his hands clenched tightly around the steering wheel, Iyaan’s mind was back on track. The initial shock had worn off, replaced by a steely resolve that had been buried beneath his fear.

*1030 words*