His eyes widened.
Ayla's in this group?
He tapped on her profile and scrolled through the messages she'd sent. Not many. Now and then, she replied to greetings, commented on reunion photos, or dropped a laughing emoji. Nothing stood out too much.
But one thing made Evan freeze.
A few months back, one of their friends had posted a baby photo in the group, joking about how the kid looked more like his uncle and aunt than his own dad. Ayla replied with a photo—the same toddler from her profile picture—with a casual caption:
"Relax, this one's totally my mini-me."
That child was Ayla's. No doubt.
But what Evan didn't know… was the child also his?
—
Evan shut his eyes, trying to calm his racing mind.
Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe the resemblance was just a coincidence.
But his gut said otherwise.
His fingers moved on their own, typing a private message to Ayla.
Evan: Long time no see. How have you been?
He hesitated, then hit send. A simple message. Nothing suspicious.
A moment later, the double check marks turned blue. She'd read it.
But she didn't reply right away.
Evan waited, absentmindedly twirling his pen, eyes fixed on the screen.
Five minutes. Ten. Still nothing.
Then finally…
Ayla: I'm good. You?
Standard. Neutral. Like they were just old friends reconnecting in the alumni group.
Evan typed quickly.
Evan: Same. All good. Just realized during the meeting that we're working together on this project.
Ayla: Yeah. Small world.
No emoji. No follow-up. Clearly, she wasn't interested in chatting.
But Evan wasn't done.
Evan: Hey, the kid in your profile pic…
He typed slowly, feeling stupid for asking this over chat.
The typing indicator appeared for a second… then vanished.
Evan waited.
A few minutes later, Ayla replied.
Ayla: Why?
Not an answer. Just another question.
Evan took a deep breath.
Evan: Is that your kid?
Ayla: Yeah. Why?
Evan swallowed hard. This time, he didn't reply right away.
Should he ask more? Or stop now?
But the question consumed him.
Was that child his… or not?
—
Evan's heart stopped as he read the next message.
His grip tightened on the phone, eyes locked on the screen.
"Your child died the moment you gave me that pill."
The words hit him like a slap.
"Don't you ever think about taking him from me."
He swallowed, his head suddenly heavy, a ringing in his ears.
Ayla had replied.
Not with rage. Not with insults.
But with something far worse—cold words soaked in hatred.
Evan tried to type, but his hands shook.
Evan: Ayla… I…
What?
What could he possibly say?
That he didn't remember doing any of that?
That in the life he remembered, they never even dated?
That he never gave her that pill?
That he… never even touched her?
But in this world, in this version of 2017—Ayla had been his girlfriend. Ayla had carried his child. And Ayla believed he had murdered their baby.
Evan wanted to deny it. To reject all of it.
But that photo—the little boy in her profile—looked too much like him.
He couldn't run from this.
But if that child died… then who was the boy in the picture?
—
Evan stared at the message over and over. His mind raced.
What pill? What was she talking about?
His fingers moved quickly.
Evan: We need to talk. Now.
No reply. He checked the time—almost 9 p.m.
He waited a few more minutes. Still nothing.
Evan: Ayla, I'm serious.
Still no answer.
His breath shortened. Fingers tapping anxiously on the desk.
She couldn't have made this up… right?
Damn it.
He grabbed his car keys.
If she wouldn't talk to him—he'd find her himself.
—
The problem: Evan didn't know where Ayla lived.
He stared at her last message, hoping for a clue.
If she really didn't want him to remember, then she must be hiding something even bigger.
Evan opened his contacts and searched someone from the high school alumni group—someone who seemed close to Ayla.
He called.
"Hey man, do you know where Ayla lives now?" he asked without preamble.
"Huh? Ayla? Why?" came the suspicious voice on the other end.
Evan thought fast. "I've got some business with her. She's handling a construction project we're working on."
"Oh… she's still at the old housing complex, but she's hardly home. Usually out until the late afternoon."
Evan jotted down the address. He didn't care if Ayla didn't want to see him.
He would find out the truth.
—
His friend hesitated, then asked sharply:
"Wait, is this really business? You suddenly asking for Ayla's address after disappearing for years… It's weird."
Evan rubbed his face. He forgot—in this version of 2017, he and Ayla had a history that he didn't remember living.
"I just need to talk to her," Evan said finally. "Yeah, things ended messy, but I have to ask her something—face to face."
His friend scoffed. "I don't know if you still care or if you're just messing around, but Ayla's not easy to find. Especially not for you… after what you did."
Evan bit his lip. "What do you mean?"
"You really don't remember?" The voice on the line grew sharper. "You left her, man. When she needed you most. Everyone knew you told her to take that pill."
Evan felt his chest cave in.
"You hurt her enough, Evan," his friend added. "Don't make it worse."
Then the line went dead.
Evan stared at his phone, mind reeling.
What the hell happened in this version of his life?
—
Evan waited for a reply in the group chat. But no one shared Ayla's address.
Instead, all he got were skeptical questions—like he was someone they should all stay away from.
He checked Ayla's contact again. No address. No clue. But he knew one thing—Ayla was the construction vendor he'd spoken to earlier today.
Maybe… her office?
Without another thought, Evan grabbed his car keys and left. His steps were quick, mind clouded with questions.
He arrived at the building where Ayla worked and went straight to the receptionist.
"Is Ayla Pradipta in?" he asked curtly.
The receptionist eyed him. "Do you have an appointment?"
"I'm Evan. I'm with the project Reza is managing," he said, trying to sound businesslike.
She nodded. "Please wait a moment."
A few minutes later, Ayla appeared down the hallway. Her face was calm, but her eyes held a sharpness when she saw him.
Evan stepped forward, locking eyes with her. "We need to talk."
She didn't respond immediately. Just sighed softly before saying,
"Meeting room."
They walked into a glass-walled room. As soon as the door closed, Ayla crossed her arms.
"What now, Evan?" Her voice was flat, nearly emotionless.
Evan stared at her. "I just need to ask you one thing."
Ayla said nothing, waiting.
"That kid… is he mine?"
Her reaction was instant.
A short, bitter laugh—like someone mocking a fool.