Sunday Short: Sure, No Problem! 2- The Ones Who Stayed

It started with a message.

Not a phone call. Not an email. Just a single line, sent through an anonymous number.

“We remember what you did, Azlan.”

His hands trembled. The message sat on his screen, unmoving, unforgiving. The profile photo was a blurry sigil—some kind of triangle within a circle, surrounded by what looked like stylized letters. Like a weird company logo. Or a… cult?

For the first time in weeks, Azlan didn’t feel alone. And that terrified him.

He had been doing so well. Quiet, safe, alone—just how he liked it. No requests. No demands. No one left to say “yes” to.

But then came more.

Photos. First of his old housemate Naim, standing outside what looked like a cave entrance lit by torchlight. Then one of Melissa, her eyes rolled back, hands raised in some kind of ritual.

Each image came with a timestamp—recent. As in, this week.

They were alive.

But they weren’t the same.

The knock came at midnight. Of course.

Azlan peeked through the peephole.

No one.

He opened the door slightly, just to be sure—

—and found an envelope on the floor. Thick, sealed with wax bearing that same triangle-circle sigil.

Inside, a single card:

"You were chosen for a reason. Come home. We need you now."

Behind the card: a map.

And a name.

"Lembah Takdir"

He’d never heard of the place. But Sambal, his cat, hissed at the map the second it touched the table. That had to mean something.

It took him three hours, one roadside mee goreng break, and several wrong turns to reach the valley. A thick mist clung to the ground like something alive. The air smelled of burnt herbs and wet limestone.

At the end of the trail stood an old kampung house—weathered, leaning slightly to one side, but still very much lived in.

Dozens of people in crimson robes walked around it. Chanting. Preparing. Waiting.

And at the center of them… stood Hafiz.

Alive. Smiling.

“We’ve been waiting for you, Azlan,” he said, voice calm, eyes hollow.

“What is this?” Azlan asked, barely above a whisper.

Hafiz stepped forward. “You never made us disappear. You just sent us home.”

Azlan’s stomach dropped.

“This isn’t just a gift,” Hafiz continued. “It’s a calling. You’ve been cleansing the world. Removing the weight. Saying 'yes' was just the doorway. We are what comes after.”

The rest of the robed crowd turned to him in unison.

They began to chant.

“Yang memilih, tak boleh lari. Yang memberi, tak boleh sembunyi.”

(The one who chooses cannot run. The one who gives cannot hide.)

Azlan stumbled back, eyes darting around for a way out.

But the valley had already sealed behind him. The mist was too thick. The woods had gone silent. Even Sambal, curled in the backseat of his car, was gone.

And deep in the kampung house… something ancient stirred.

Azlan always feared rejection.

Now, he would learn the horror of never being able to reject them.

To be continued...