That night, the air around the tea plantation felt colder than usual, biting into their bones and seeping through the walls of their simple shack.
Mrs. Waluyo clasped Indriyani’s hand tightly, as if she wanted to transfer some of the warmth remaining in her body.
Her eyes stared blankly out the window, toward the pitch-black darkness, as though searching for an answer there. They had gone everywhere looking for a loan to pay for Mr. Waluyo’s treatment—from house to house, from one hope to the next—but not a single person had been able to help. Every door was closed.
Every plea had ended in rejection. In the city, far beyond the dark tea-covered hills, Mr. Waluyo still lay unconscious, waiting for a miracle that never came.
Indriyani shivered. Cold crept from her feet to the crown of her head. It wasn’t only because of the night air.
Her body was weak, her heart frozen. Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Mom, what else can we do?” she asked, her breath coming in broken gasps. “We’ve tried everything. Every promise has been brushed aside. We’ve knocked on every door. Everyone says they can’t help.
Mrs. Waluyo let out a long sigh and gently smoothed Indriyani’s limp hair. “Shh… sweetheart. Don’t be like this. I know you’re tired. So am I.” Her own voice sounded rough.
She tried to smile, but her lips trembled. “But we can’t give up, sweetheart. Never give up.”
Indriyani shook her head weakly. Her eyes were red and swollen as she stared blankly at the dirt floor. “Give up? We’ve already given up, Mom! We’ve knelt down! I’ve begged! I’ve been trampled on and insulted! Treated like trash!” Indriyani’s voice rose, breaking apart.
The fear was real, burning in her chest. “Dad… Dad could die if we don’t do anything! He could die, Mom!”
“I know. I know.” Mrs. Waluyo pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. The scent of earth and tea clinging to Indriyani felt heavy, like the weight of the world.
“But, sweetheart… money isn’t everything. It isn’t the only thing.”
“Isn’t it everything?” Indriyani broke free of the embrace and stared at her mother with a piercing emptiness.
“But Dad’s life needs money, Mom! The operation costs tens of millions! We have nothing left! Nothing! What can we do, Mom? What else is there?” Indriyani clenched her hands, her nails digging into her palms. The physical pain was faint, overwhelmed by the ache in her heart.
Mrs. Waluyo fell silent. For a long time. The silence hung in the air, colder than the night wind.
Her eyes filled with tears. She looked at her broken daughter and felt that same devastation inside herself. Every path was blocked. They had exhausted every bit of logic. Reality was too cruel. They had reached rock bottom.
“Sweetheart…” she whispered, her voice filled with fragile conviction, as though the word itself were a thin thread that could snap at any moment. She drew a deep breath.
“We’ve done everything we can. Every human method. Every effort we had is gone.” She paused, gazing deeply into Indriyani’s eyes, searching for a glimmer of hope in them.
“Now… all we can do is pray and hope for… a miracle.”
Indriyani gasped. Her head shot up as if struck by lightning. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
“A miracle?” she asked, her voice barely taking shape. She gave a bitter snort, a soundless laugh escaping her trembling lips.
“What are you talking about? Miracles don’t exist, Mom! All we have is bitter reality! Mr. Wahyu said it was business, and Akbar said I was entertainment! They said we were trash! That’s reality! Miracles only exist in fairy tales!” She rejected the idea outright, anger flaring again as it shielded her from false hope.
Mrs. Waluyo slowly shook her head. Her old eyes gazed at Indriyani sadly, yet there was an unshakable strength in them.
“That’s not true, sweetheart. Miracles… sometimes come from places we never expect. From God. From fate. From something beyond our understanding.”
“Fate?” Indriyani laughed bitterly. Tears flowed again, hot against her cold cheeks. “If fate really exists, why does Dad have to suffer like this? Why do we have to suffer? Why does Akbar have to be so cruel?
“Why can he be so heartless? If God really exists, why hasn’t He heard our prayers, Mom? Why?” She screamed, her voice breaking as she demanded answers from the dark, indifferent sky.
“We don’t know God’s plan, sweetheart.” Mrs. Waluyo caressed Indriyani’s wet cheek, wiping away her tears.
“We don’t know. But… if we have nothing left, if every path is closed, what else can we hold on to besides hope?
“Hope that… may seem impossible to us, but not to Him. We’ve reached the end of the road, sweetheart.” The warmth of her mother’s touch slightly melted the wall of Indriyani’s anger. Just a little.
Indriyani fell silent. She looked around their dimly lit shack, at the flickering oil lamp, at the shadows dancing across the walls.
She looked at her mother, who, despite her exhaustion and sorrow, still radiated a strange calm. A sincerity that could not be shaken.
“But… that’s just… Mom, it isn’t real,” Indriyani whispered, returning to her desperate tone. “It’s just wishful thinking. We need money, Mom. We need action. Something real. Not empty hope. Not promises we can’t hold on to.”
“Hope is never empty, sweetheart.” Mrs. Waluyo took both of Indriyani’s hands and squeezed them tightly.
“As long as we’re still breathing, as long as we still have hearts that believe, hope exists. I know you’re hurt. I know you’re angry.
“I know you’re disappointed. I feel it too.” She looked deeply into her daughter’s eyes. “But… don’t let it take away all your faith. Don’t let hatred take control of your heart.”
Indriyani closed her eyes. Her breath caught. The pain was too great, too sickening. She hated reality, hated the injustice. But what her mother had said… was it the only path left? The only help available?
“Your father is strong, sweetheart. He must be fighting. He must want to live for us.” Mrs. Waluyo embraced Indriyani again and rubbed her trembling back.
“We have to fight too. With prayer. With sincere hearts. Not with the empty hands we’ve extended everywhere.”
Indriyani began to cry again, but this time more quietly, more helplessly. It was no longer the burning cry of anger, but the cry of exhaustion and bitter acceptance.
“So… all we can do is pray? All we can do is wait for something uncertain, Mom?” Her voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, as if she were surrendering to a fate she didn’t understand.
“Not just wait, sweetheart.” Mrs. Waluyo stroked her daughter’s back. “We pray. We believe. We surrender everything. We’ve tried every human way. Now, let God do the work. Let fate guide us. We’ve entrusted everything to Him.”
Indriyani wiped her tears with the back of her dirty hand. A long breath escaped her chest, like the last remnants of her strength.
She looked at her rough hands, then slowly raised her gaze. She looked at her mother, then turned toward the small window of the shack. The thick darkness still covered everything. Cold. Silent.
“Impossible hope…” she whispered, testing the words on her lips. There was a little doubt, but also a glimmer of forced acceptance. This was the last choice, the only thing left. There was nothing else to hold on to.
Mrs. Waluyo nodded. A faint smile, filled with sorrow yet also calm, appeared on her wrinkled face.
“Impossible for us, perhaps, but not for Him, sweetheart. Believe.”
Indriyani stared at the dark sky beyond the window. Thick storm clouds covered the peaks of the towering tea trees, obscuring nearly the entire horizon.