For a split second after hearing about his sister's death, Roxy stopped breathing. The words echoed in his mind, but they refused to settle into reality. Dead. The word felt distant, unreal, like something meant for another family, another life. He stood frozen, unable to cry, unable to speak, as if his entire body had turned to stone. His sister studied outside the city. She had dreams. She had plans. She was stubborn and strong. She was not someone who would simply disappear from the world.
"I'm going to her college," he finally said, his voice low and emotionless.
His mother's hands trembled instantly. Fear flashed across her face, deeper than grief. "Don't go," she whispered. "Please don't go."
But Roxy had already made his decision. Something inside him refused to accept the explanation he had been given. Police had declared it is as Suicide. It sounded too simple. Too convenient.
Before leaving, he walked into his sister Maya's bedroom. The door creaked softly, and the faint scent of her lavender perfume lingered in the air. The room looked untouched, as though she would return at any moment and complain about someone entering without permission. Her books were neatly arranged, her scarf hung behind the chair, and a small framed picture of the two of them rested on the table.
He began searching. Drawers, cupboards, notebooks, beneath the mattress. He looked for a note, a message, anything that could explain why she would choose to end her life. But there was nothing. No goodbye. No confession. No trace of despair. Then how can the police had declared it.
Then his eyes landed on a small wooden box placed carefully on her shelf. His heart tightened. It was the gift he had given her on her seventeenth birthday. She had hugged him tightly that day and said she would keep all her precious memories inside it. Maya had a habit of storing tiny gifts from people. She believed that if someone loved her, she would preserve proof of it forever.
With trembling hands, he opened the box.
It was empty.
Not a single bracelet. Not a single note. Not even a ticket stub.
Roxy stared at the hollow space, confusion slowly turning into dread. She treasured everything. Even the smallest things mattered to her. Why would she remove them? Or who had removed them?
"This cannot be suicide," he whispered to himself.
As he started his bike outside the house, a folded paper hit his back. He turned sharply and saw Tay standing there, Stalin's younger brother. They exchanged brief greetings, but the tension between them was obvious.
"Why didn't anyone tell me anything?" Roxy demanded. "Why was I kept in the dark about my sister? About my father?"
Tay hesitated, his eyes lowering. "She was raped," he said quietly.
The word shattered something inside Roxy. His breath caught in his throat.
"What did you say?"
Tay swallowed. "Her boyfriend drugged her. He recorded it. The video spread."
Roxy felt rage rising like fire through his veins. The thought of his sister enduring something so cruel made his hands tremble. And then the official explanation followed — she couldn't handle the shame. She ended her life.
But even in his anger, something didn't align. Maya was strong. She fought. She argued. She never surrendered easily. Why would she give up without leaving a word behind?
The next day, Roxy went to her college. The campus felt unfamiliar and cold. During lunch break, her classroom was mostly empty. He stepped inside slowly, absorbing the atmosphere. A man entered shortly after and stared at him suspiciously.
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I'm here for Maya," Roxy replied.
The man let out a careless laugh. "Maya? That girl was trouble. Too many boys. Too many relationships."
The words hit Roxy like a slap. Before he could control himself, he grabbed the man by his collar. "Watch your mouth," he warned.
The man stammered apologies, but Roxy's anger boiled over and his palm struck the man's cheek. The sharp sound echoed through the room.
At that moment, a girl appeared at the doorway. She froze when she saw Roxy. It was Maya's best friend. The same girl who had attended family gatherings and shared secrets with his sister. Fear filled her eyes, and without a word, she turned and ran.
Roxy chased her down the corridor and caught her near the staircase. "What happened to my sister?" he demanded.
She trembled violently. "She killed herself," she cried. "Her boyfriend drugged her and posted the video. She couldn't survive the humiliation."
Tears streamed down her face, but Roxy noticed something else beneath the fear. Guilt. It flickered in her eyes for just a second. And that second was enough.
When he left the campus that day, his mind was racing. The empty box. The deleted memories. The guilty expression. The careless teacher.
These were not coincidences.
They were fragments.
Whispered fragments of a truth no one wanted him to uncover.