Shadows Behind Campus
The afternoon sun hung low above the leafy trees on the campus of State University of Kota B. A gentle breeze stirred, sending dry leaves skittering across the parking area near the School of Economics. Nana stepped out of the lecture hall with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She walked slowly, as though deliberately delaying the moment she had to go home.
A turmoil she couldn't put into words churned in her chest. Ever since last week's conversation and the disappointing grade on her group project, Nana had felt like a stranger among her classmates. While the other members of her group were busy talking about hanging out at trendy cafés, buying new clothes, or planning an end-of-semester trip out of town, Nana always had to calculate the remaining balance in her painfully limited savings account.
A sense of inferiority had begun to gnaw away at her confidence, making the eighteen-year-old withdraw further and further from campus life. She often felt as though she couldn't measure up to friends from well-off families. At home, she was always watching Noni, who could do everything and was constantly praised by Mom for her outstanding achievements. Nana felt as though she occupied the lowest rung—she wasn't smart enough like her sister, and she wasn't rich enough like her friends.
"Nana!"
A deep, unfamiliar voice—yet strangely familiar from her childhood memories—cut through Nana's reverie as she was about to walk toward the public transit stop outside the campus gates.
Nana turned around. Not far from the main gate, a gleaming black sedan was parked beneath a shady tamarind tree. Beside the driver's door stood a middle-aged man in a dark blue dress shirt and sunglasses. He slowly removed his glasses and looked at Nana with a complicated expression—a mixture of awkwardness, longing, and regret he was trying to display as dramatically as possible.
Nana froze in place. Her heart suddenly began pounding. Even though eight years had passed since that dark night when the man had walked out of their house carrying a large suitcase, and even though the wrinkles on his face had deepened and his hair had grown considerably grayer, Nana would never forget that face.
"Dad...?" Nana whispered, her voice swallowed by the roar of the afternoon wind.
Krisna stepped toward his youngest daughter. A faint smile spread across his lips, though his eyes appeared moist—a gesture he had carefully rehearsed.
"Nana... it's Dad, sweetheart. You... you've grown so beautiful and tall. I almost didn't recognize my little girl."
Nana stood stiffly as Krisna reached for both her shoulders. A sudden warmth spread through her chest—the longing she had held for years for the father who had vanished when she was still in elementary school. But at the same time, an image of her mother, Wanda, flashed through Nana's mind: Wanda often holding her breath in exhaustion after spending all day bathing and caring for the animals left at the store.
"Dad... why are you here?" Nana asked nervously, instinctively stepping back to create some distance. "How did you know where my campus was?"
Krisna let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, arranging his face into an expression of profound guilt. "I'm sorry I could only find you now, sweetheart. I know I was wrong... I have a lot to atone for to you, Noni, and Mom. But believe me, Nana... I never stopped thinking about the three of you every night."
"Why only now, Dad?" Nana's voice began to tremble as she struggled to contain the emotions surging in her chest. "Where were you for eight years? Why weren't you there when we were struggling, when the house was about to be seized? Why were you nowhere to be found?"
"I needed time to put my life back together, Nana," Krisna replied quickly, trying to take Nana's cold fingers. "My business failed back then. I went bankrupt. I had nothing to support you all with. I was ashamed to face your mother. But now... things are different. I have a fairly successful business. I'm here to pay back all the love I owe you."
Krisna reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small gift box tied with a gold ribbon and a thick white envelope that appeared to be stuffed with cash. He held them out directly to Nana.
"These are for you, sweetheart. A new phone to help with college so you won't feel inferior around your friends, and here's a little spending money from Dad. Don't refuse, okay? This is your right as my daughter," Krisna said sweetly, his eyes pleading. "I heard from a friend of mine who teaches here that you're a hardworking student, but you often look sad."
Nana stared at the expensive gift box and thick envelope in her hands. On one hand, part of her felt so cared for—a longing to be acknowledged, pampered, and relieved of her financial burdens by a father she had never had for all these years. Krisna's treatment that afternoon felt like an instant spark, rekindling the confidence that had begun to crumble.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me right away," Krisna continued gently, rubbing Nana's shoulder. "But let me help you. Don't tell Mom or Noni yet, okay, sweetheart? I don't want to make your mother angry or cause a misunderstanding before I come to apologize to her properly myself."
Nana fell silent. The gentle persuasion slipped into her still-fragile mind, which longed for a protective presence. Without considering the long-term consequences or the pain it might cause her mother, Nana nodded slowly. She hid the gift box and envelope inside her worn backpack.
"I'll call you again later, okay, sweetheart? Work hard in college. If anything happens, call Dad right away," Krisna whispered, gently stroking Nana's head before walking back to his sedan.
As the black sedan drove away and disappeared around the bend, Nana stood alone on the sidewalk. Her hand clenched the backpack strap, which now felt many times heavier. A deep sense of guilt struck her chest when she thought of Wanda's innocent smile, always waiting to greet her at home with hot tea. Nana knew she was walking across a cracked plank, keeping a huge secret from the woman who loved her most. But her thirst for a father's presence made her steps that afternoon feel increasingly unsteady and lost.