A dog barks, a box appears on the terrace, and a name rises from the ashes: Merjan. Five years have passed, inscribed on the box like a prophecy hidden in the margins of coincidence, while the family dog, Pascal, barks as if revealing a secret long concealed in the light. Jilin holds her breath, fingers trembling, before Iran’s hand stops her: “Leave it to forensics.” A small pink sweater, “worn,” with no message, no fingerprints, only a scent and the shadow of a child gone for thirty months. Across the city, confessions shatter: a man pushed his victim from a window, attempted to bribe a hotel employee, and involved lawyer Nil. “The investigation gains strength from evidence,” says the chief investigator. In Merjan’s case, the evidence begins with a single hair. Cameras are gathered from the building entrances and surrounding streets, neighbors are questioned about strangers they did not see, and the pulse of the house aligns with a single echoing question in a mother’s heart: “Could this really be Merjan?”

Inside the truth lab, a long dark-brown hair overturns fate. The box is clean outside, but inside… a hair. “Merjan’s hair wasn’t this long… but it could have grown.” Two and a half years change everything. DNA testing begins, with all eyes waiting for morning. Meanwhile, recordings from stores selling the brand “Kids” sweater—seven shops and three online platforms—are analyzed. A race against the shadows starts: who threw the box? And why now? A private investigator is summoned to penetrate the veiled villas, revealing a heavy name: Qadir “the Executioner,” a whole network on paper, gambling behind facades, and cameras incriminating their owners more than the kidnapper. Jilin clings to hope as if holding the edge of a cliff. Then the lab phone rings like a lightning strike: “The hair matches Merjan… and it’s fresh.” A mother collapses into tears and rises empowered. Science testifies: Merjan is alive.

The secret spreads before the official confidentiality order, and the house ignites with scandal over a locked drawer. The file should have remained secret, but an employee’s negligence leaked it to the press, drawing microphones to the center. Ransom? Kidnapping? Who placed the box? Anger flashes in Olgaz and Jilin’s eyes: if Merjan is harmed, the reckoning will be severe. Interrogations reveal Jonja’s false claim of being at the beach on the day of disappearance—then she admits exhaustion over her daughter with a father suffering Alzheimer’s. Another bomb drops at home: a locked drawer, a missing key, broken boxes revealing children’s toys and a pen “kept by her mother.” Why does Deputy Afah keep toys if he is unmarried and childless? The question turns into an accusation, then a warning: “He sent Merjan to the orphanage.” His phone signal points to the forest, to the municipal orphanage, to dozens of children… where is Merjan among them?

Deals in the dark: Qadir’s recordings come at the cost of “dirty money laundering,” and the hidden hand is chased. “Since when do I serve anyone for free?” he says. The price isn’t money alone, but cleaning dirty cash to keep reputations intact and files erased. Hesitant partners, a mother shouting in their faces: “This is about Merjan.” Wheels move: inspections of sweater stores, traffic tracking near Jilin’s house, matching movements to the beach and the box’s throw, and printing an age-progressed image of Merjan to distribute secretly. With each step, the drama intensifies: a grandfather hugs the photo as if it were his granddaughter, a mother leads the investigation with emotion and reason, and a deputy vows: “I will not allow anyone to harm my colleagues… and I won’t forgive breaches of file secrecy.”

When hope speaks its name: from “Merjan is alive” to “Where is Merjan?” The city hears the news in the evening broadcast: the pink sweater, the hair matches Merjan Kaya, and the daughter of the plaintiffs is still alive. Beach witnesses recall chaos: a woman carrying a child who said “Mama” and vanished. In the orphanage, many children, and Olgaz’s eyes search as if seeking his own heart. Iran receives an urgent order: “Get Deputy Afah’s location immediately.” Every thread leads to the forest, to the orphanage, to the pen hidden in a drawer, and to recordings that may save a child—or bury the truth. The finale leaves one burning question on screens and hearts: if a hair restored our pulse, who will bring back the child? Follow the ongoing investigation: a single photo, a receipt, or a fleeting glance from a camera could be the final key to Merjan’s door.