Indriyani could feel that gaze piercing straight to the bone, but she knew she had to speak. She drew a breath, her throat dry, her voice seeming far away. The chair in front of her looked inviting, but she chose to remain standing, clutching her small bag tightly.
“Mr. Wahyu,” Indriyani began, her voice trembling as she tried to stay calm. “My name is Indriyani. My father, Mr. Waluyo, works at your tea plantation.”
Mr. Wahyu merely gave a small nod, his eyes still fixed on her without expression. There was no invitation to continue, no sign of empathy. Only a cold silence waiting for her to speak.
“A few days ago,” Indriyani continued, trying to steady her breathing, “my father had an accident on the tea plantation. He was picking tea on a steep slope after it rained. He slipped, sir. His head hit a rock.”
She could see flashes of blood in the mud and her father’s pale face. Her stomach churned.
“He’s in a coma now, sir. At the city hospital.” Her voice grew quieter as she held back the sobs pressing against her throat.
“The doctor said there’s bleeding in his brain. He needs surgery immediately. An emergency craniotomy.”
Indriyani lowered her head, no longer able to meet Mr. Wahyu’s sharp eyes. “The cost… is enormous, sir. We don’t have that much money.”
Silence hung in the air. The only sound was the slow ticking of the wall clock, as if counting down her father’s remaining time. Indriyani looked up again, forcing herself to continue.
“We’ve tried everywhere, sir. Our neighbors, our relatives. No one can help us,” she said, tears beginning to gather in her eyes.
“You’re our only hope, sir. You own the plantation, and my father works for you.” Mr. Wahyu finally spoke, his voice quiet, but every word felt like ice piercing her skin.
“And?”
That single word struck Indriyani. As if all her suffering were nothing more than an ordinary story’s introduction.
“And… I’m begging you, sir,” Indriyani said, her voice breaking. The tears she had held back since morning finally spilled down her cheeks. “Please help us, sir. Help pay for my father’s surgery.”
She took one step forward, then fell to her knees. She didn’t care that her dignity was being crushed against the cold marble floor. She didn’t care if Mr. Wahyu looked down on her. Her father was all that mattered.
“Please, sir. For my father’s life,” she pleaded, her voice catching. She pressed both hands together in front of her chest, begging for mercy.
“I have nothing to give you in return. But I promise, sir. I’ll work for you for the rest of my life.”
A small sob escaped Indriyani. Every word that left her mouth felt like it was scraping away at her soul.
“I’ll be your servant, sir. Whatever you ask. I’ll clean this house, do the laundry, cook—anything. I won’t ask for wages, sir. Just pay for my father’s surgery.”
She even bowed her head until her forehead nearly touched the floor. Her tears dripped onto the spotless marble, leaving dark stains behind. She didn’t care. Her dignity had disappeared long ago, ever since her father had been confined to a hospital bed.
“I promise, sir. Until I grow old, until I can’t work anymore. I’ll devote my life to serving your family,”
She raised her head slightly and looked at Mr. Wahyu with red, pleading eyes. “I’m willing to be your slave, sir. As long as my father lives. As long as my father survives.”
Her breathing came in ragged gasps. Her chest ached. The fear of losing her father was far greater than the shame she felt.
“I have no other family, sir. Just my father and mother,” Indriyani continued in a whisper. “If my father is gone… we’ll have no one left. We won’t be able to survive.”
She waited. Every second felt eternal. She waited for an answer, for some sign of mercy. Her heart pounded as she hoped and begged.
“This isn’t about money, sir. It’s about a life,” she added, trying to appeal to whatever humanity Mr. Wahyu might possess, if he had any. “I know you’re a good man. You wouldn’t want to see someone suffer.”
Mr. Wahyu didn’t move. His sharp eyes remained fixed on Indriyani kneeling on the floor. His expression didn’t change. There was no warmth. Only a deadly silence.
“The surgery has to happen immediately, sir,” Indriyani cried out, nearly hysterical with desperation. “The doctor said every hour is critical. If we’re too late… my father…”
She couldn’t finish the sentence. The worst possibility flashed through her mind, choking off her breath.
“I won’t break my promise, sir. I swear,” Indriyani repeated, her voice hardening with determination. “I’ll belong to you for the rest of my life. I’ll never leave.”
She stared at Mr. Wahyu, searching his eyes for a glimmer of hope. Searching for some sign that he had heard her plea, that he saw her suffering.
But Mr. Wahyu leaned back against the plush mahogany chair. His expression shifted slightly, becoming something that looked… bored.
A soft sigh escaped his lips, as if listening to Indriyani’s troubles was nothing more than a waste of his precious time.
Mr. Wahyu sank deeper into his chair, his sharp eyes still fixed on Indriyani as she knelt before him. The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, until his voice finally broke it.
“Are you done with the theatrics?” he asked, his tone completely flat and emotionless. “If you are, I’ll explain the situation.”
Indriyani could only stare at him, tears still streaming down her face, her lips trembling. She wanted to argue, to scream that this wasn’t a drama—it was her father’s life. But no sound came out. Her throat was blocked, as if a massive stone were lodged inside it.
“Listen, Miss Indriyani,” Mr. Wahyu continued, his voice rising slightly, more from authority than anger.
He sighed, as though this were a lesson he had to repeat to a small child. “I understand your concern. Anyone would worry if their parent fell ill. That’s only natural.”
He paused for a moment, as if giving Indriyani a chance to feel relieved, though she felt not the slightest bit of relief. Instead, every word he spoke felt like a fresh cut.
“However, there are limits to responsibility,” he said, each word clear and sharp as a cold blade.
“Our company, PT Riswanto Jaya, has extremely strict standard operating procedures. We provide personal protective equipment, and we give safety briefings every morning. We warned everyone repeatedly: that slope is steep, especially after rain. It’s extremely slippery.”
Mr. Wahyu picked up a pen from his desk and rolled it between his thick fingers. The small motion felt like a whip cracking against Indriyani.
“Mr. Waluyo is a senior plantation worker. He knows the risks of working there very well,” he continued without pause, not a trace of regret in his voice.
“The company can’t be held responsible for an individual’s negligence. He knew the path was slippery, but he insisted on going anyway. That… was carelessness, Miss. Purely personal carelessness. The company can’t bear the consequences of someone’s personal choices.”
Indriyani felt her blood boil. A strange anger, unlike anything she had ever felt before, burned in the pit of her stomach.
“But, sir…” she whispered, her voice catching. She tried to push herself up a little, but her legs were too weak and her heart hurt too much.