M A H A

One of Yusha's secretaries have always escorted me to his office. From today onwards, it'll be different. Now that I have my own ID pass.

I stand before one of the many security entry gates and hold the wrist of my left hand closely above the QR code scanner, letting the orange Smartband engraved with my name do its job. Unlike Tan, who works at a martial arts studio as trainer for novices, and Nat, who did tutoring as well as countless volunteering service, I have never had a job. So, when my image pops up on the small screen next to the scanner, confirming me as an employee of Aiden Tech, I feel a weird thrill.

The dual doors let me pass through, and I ride an elevator up multiple levels, stopping on the floor where the CEO's office resides.

"'Morning." I swivel around as someone greets me from behind.

Balanced on a hoverboard, Yusha has about three extra inches than usual on me, forcing me to tilt my head back to view his face.

"Oh! Assalamu Alaikum," I smile.

Yusha looks slightly thrown off guard, and I realize it's my first time properly greeting him with Salam, with the exception of that one time Pop brought him home.

"Wa Alaikum Assalam." He coughs out, sounding remotely awkward. He then glides past me towards his office.

"Where are you coming from?" I ask as I follow him.

"One of my spontaneous strolls around the office. Helps to keep everyone on their toes, you see. You seem to be in a good mood. Ready to start our little joint venture?"

"Whenever you are." I say, all keyed up.

"Alright. As intro, let's begin by recalling everything that we already know. Just a friendly reminder, I'll be recording everything we say to document our investigation." Yusha says, and I nod. "Whom shall we start with? Yamira or Wissam?"

"Um... rock, paper, scissors?"

We tie twice. On round three, I give rock and Yusha gives scissors.

"Wissam it is."

"Isn't the loser supposed to start?" I asks.

"Ah, is that how it works?"

I laugh at Yusha uncertain face. "I don't mind going first-"

"No, no. I'll do it. It'll probably be better that way. You can watch me so when it's your turn you'll know what to do. Hold on. Let me turn on the audio device."

Yusha fishes out his phone and his fingers tap away on the screen. Then something amazing happens. The smooth surface of the coffee table lights up, proving to be in fact a screen. The screen displays a sound spectrum.

"Okay, wow. That was never just a coffee table like I always thought, was it? What's next? The couches? Do they transform into a fort?"

"Sorry to disappoint you, but they're just couches." Yusha chuckles. "Okay, we're set."

He takes a steady breath before commencing.

"Yamira was an eighteen year-old high school senior of 5'5" and weighed 111 lbs. She had a pale complexion but sharp features and had freckles on her face. She had dark-rimmed hazel eyes and her natural hair color was brown. However, she would frequently experiment on her hair. Her last hairstyle is known to have been an angled bob of platinum blond with lavender and red highlights." Then the top of the not-an-ordinary-coffee-table slants, giving a more convenient view of its screen. Yusha flicks the tip of a stylus across the screen of his phone, and the audio spectrum on the bigger screen is replaced by the image of a girl meeting his description.

I study the picture. There, Yamira wears a smile like she has an unspeakable secret, and her deep set eyes holds a challenging invite for anyone to work it out. She is so pale she looks almost ethereal. However, her shaggy bob, and the light spatter of mocha brown on her nose and cheeks, promotes an impish look.

"Can I be honest?" I ask.

"Please,"

"She's so pretty, Ma Sha Allah," I say, drawing out the so, "but she also looks like the epitome of delinquent."

Yusha laughs and I grin.

I stare at Yusha, noting the arc of his eyebrows and the shape of his nose, mentally comparing his features to his sister's.

"Ms. Ayat?"

"Yes?" I answer, absently.

"Something on your mind?" Yusha asks, the corners of his mouth slightly upturned.

"Oh, um, this might sound rude..." I say, averting my eyes.

"Shoot."

"I've seen your parents' pictures online, and I'm also looking at you. So, um, I couldn't help but notice the lack of resemblance... Would it be impudent to ask if Yamira is your parents' real daughter?" I slap a hand over my mouth as Yusha's eyebrow knit together. Was I too blunt? "I'm sorry! It's just-"

"Yamira has been in the family for as far as I can remember, so I've never actually thought to question her birth, despite, as you pointed out, the lack of resemblance." Yusha says, looking thoughtful. "We would even celebrated her birthday. It feels strange to even consider the possibility of her being adopted, if that's what you mean. But, if it really bothers you, I guess it won't hurt to verify."

I didn't expect Yusha to handle the question as placidly as he did.

"How do plan on doing that?" I ask. "I mean, isn't it too late for a DNA test?"

"True," Yusha concedes, "I suppose I can try to get hold of Yamira's birth certificate, although, that's not credible evidence. I'll see what I can do. Do you have any other questions, or shall we proceed?"

"No. We can proceed."

"Okay, so, where was I? Oh yeah. About her attire, few of the surveillance cameras covering the perimeter of Moonstone Manor- our father's residence- witnessed Yamira's last departure on 22nd of October, 2004, at 3:12 in the afternoon. A footage of the time showed Yamira leaving the house wearing black leggings, black Nike hoodie and red Nike trainers." Another flick, and Yamira's picture is gone. A video appears and Yusha plays it.

It's a mere six seconds long clip, where Yamira is seen reciprocating the guard's salute with an amicable one of her own, before capering out through the gate and out of sight.

"She seems to be in good spirits when she was heading out." I remark.

"That's what she's normally like. Sorry. I mean, was." Yusha rectifies himself. "Our father would always chide us on having more dignity and propriety. I was the submissive type but, unlike me, Yamira always took his words in stride."

"Do I sense admiration in your tone?"

Yusha looks away.

"To some extent, the obedience came voluntarily. Yamira excelled at driving my father up the wall. So, I felt like I had to be compliant. To create balance, you know."

I cross my arms and sigh. "I can't begin to empathize what it must be like to always have to be in your best behavior. Even in your own home. You've endured it well. And look," I add brightly, "it made you who you are today. Tougher."

A muscles twitches in his cheek and, when Yusha looks at me again, there is a newfound frigidity in his eyes.

"If you're done singing my praises, let's get back to the important stuff." He says, coolly.

The capricious change in attitude takes me by surprise.

I uncross my arms. "I... I'm sorry. Did I say something to upset you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"No, it's just... I feel like I'm getting the vibe," I say.

"You're imagining it."

"Sure. If you say so." I hem. "I'm not saying this to contradict you but merely to report possible faulty behavior of your product; you remember these I-Protect glasses can read facial expressions, right?" I tap lightly on the frame of the glasses perched on my nose. "And right now it's telling me you're in a bad mood."

Y U S H A

He's so antisocial.

Just because he has famous parents he must think he's too good for us.

He must have a pretty manipulative rearing.

Do you think he has some sort of social disorder?

Throughout my life, I've been a subject to pity, mock sympathy and criticism.

For a moment, I got carried away and told Maha something irrelevant. There was no need for me tell her how I felt in my childhood. Our relationship is contractual. No more and no less.

And I hate that I care but I don't want Maha to perceive me in the same light as those people.

"I realized our conversation was taking an unintended turn towards more personal matters, so I meant to steer it back on the right track." I say. "I-Protect was quick to analyze my expression."

"I know! It's pretty awesome. How did you come up with the idea for this gadget?"

"That's a topic for another time, I'm afraid. Right now, if you don't mind, I'd like to know about Wissam."

"Right. Sure." Maha clears her throat as I look at her expectantly. "Give me a moment."

"Of course. Feel at ease."

"Wissam was a high school senior. He was eighteen and..." Maha closes her eyes and concentrates, "He was at least six foot, I think?"

"Actually, I've already accumulated basic information on Wissam. Since you're struggling to remember, do you want me help you?"

"Um, sure."

"Wissam Ayat was a high school senior. He was six feet one and weighed approximately 167 lbs. He had black hair and brown eyes, that were similar to yours. He played for his school's football team and had cultivated the image of being polite, sincere and hardworking among his peers. Rayman Kaify, a classmate and football teammate, was known to have been his closest friend. So far, good?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. Can you tell me about the day you last saw him?"

"It was 22nd of October, 2004. Same day your sister was last seen. He was supposed to go on a trip with his football teammates. He left in the morning. The plan was to stay the weekend and return Monday morning."

"What was he wearing when he left the house?"

"He was wearing an olive green sweatshirt and jeans."

"Any particular brand?"

"Well... I don't know about brand, but it had some white writings at the front."

"And what about his shoes?"

"They were white and blue Adidas sneakers. It was his favorite pair."

"It sounds like a short trip. Can you describe his baggage?"

"He carried only one backpack. It was grey."

"How was he going?"

"By car."

"His?"

"It used to be my father's. But then he bought a new car and gave the old one to Wissam. So, yeah. You could say it was his."

"Did he go alone?"

"As far as I know." Maha nods. "Not too long ago, however, I met up with Rayman and he told me he and Wissam planned to go to the trip together but he took a last minute rain check due to... personal circumstances."

"Yes, I've heard about that."

"Oh. I've been meaning to ask, if Rayman is helping in the investigation as well, why isn't he joining us?"

"He can't. He doesn't have a concrete alibi within the time period both Yamira and Wissam reportedly went missing, so, until I've ascertained his movements of the time, he's a person of interest."

"What about his mom? He told me-"

"Ms. Ayat, we're straying from our agenda again."

"Oh." Maha grins. "Sorry. I was curious."

"That's understandable. This is precisely why I wanted our collusion to begin after your graduation. The further we delve into this case the more curious you'll get. And the more curious you get the more distrac-"

"Okay! Alright. I got it. Geez." Maha rolls her eyes and I suppress a smile. "What else would you like to know about my brother?"

"When could your family last contact Wissam?"

"Wissam called my mom that very day to say he arrived at the destination safely. That was the last time we heard from him."

"When was the missing person report filed?"

"Like I already mentioned before, Wissam was supposed to come home Monday morning. So, my mom called him the night before to confirm this. But he couldn't be reached. All calls went to voicemail. My dad called Rayman and, from what I heard, Rayman called some of the guys who went on the trip and learned that Wissam already left the place hours ago. As Wissam was eighteen, and it hadn't been too long since he was last seen, we didn't report him missing right away. We continued to try to reach him for another hour or so, all to no avail. It was near midnight when we informed the police."

"On twenty-seventh October, four day's after informing the police, Wissam's car had been found half demolished in a junkyard. More accurately, the Anton Auto Wreckers. Correct?"

"Yes. The owner of the junkyard had been inquired about how the car ended up there but he wasn't very helpful."

I change the photo on the big screen.

"Is this the car?" I ask.

"It is." Maha confirms, leaning towards the screen. "How'd you get this pic?"

"From the police, under the Freedom of Information Act." I say, as Maha continues to stare at the screen. "The black box was missing when the car was found."

"Not only that, not even the traffic cams could spot this car." Maha exhales exasperatedly, straightening back again. "Ridiculous. It's as if the car teleported itself. What's even more troubling is that the forensic investigators could only garner Wissam's DNA from the car." She adds, frowning.

"I've looked up the location of the Anton Auto Wreckers hoping to check out the place, but it turns out the junkyard no longer exists. In its place there are now apartment buildings."

"That shouldn't be surprising. It's been ten years after all."

I check my wristwatch. "Let's wrap it up for today. I have to be somewhere."

"Okay." Maha grabs her bag and stands up. "Oh, before I forget, the basketball tournament is starting this upcoming Tuesday. It'll last a week so I might not be able to meet you."

"That's fine. Can I come to watch?" I ask, deadpan.

Maha blinks at me, evidently surprised. "Uh...I don't-"

"I'm kidding. Get home safe."

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