Eight months ago, before all these wounds existed, Indriyani still believed the world was fair. The afternoon sun spilled a golden hue across the tea plantation. The clean, cool air caressed her cheeks, carrying the scent of wet earth and freshly picked leaves. Indriyani moved nimbly between the rows of plants, her fingers plucking the tender leaves in a rhythm she had mastered since childhood. The sling basket on her back was growing heavier.
"It's getting late," she murmured, wiping the sweat from her brow. "Dad must already be waiting at the hut." A tea picker on the slope called out jokingly, "Indri! Your hands are the fastest in the whole plantation. Planning to become a foreman?" Indriyani gave a small laugh.
"I'm not trying to become a foreman, Mrs. Yati. I just want to get home quickly. Mom cooked Dad's favorite salted fish today."
"What a good girl." Mrs. Yati shook her head in admiration. "Mr. Waluyo is lucky to have a daughter like you." She had no idea that the peaceful sky she enjoyed that afternoon was about to crack.
That night, Mr. Waluyo came home laughing freely as usual. He sat on the wooden bench while Indriyani helped him remove his mud-caked boots.
"It was hard work today, Dad?" Indriyani asked, handing him some hot tea.
"What does being tired matter when I get to see you smile like that?" Mr. Waluyo replied. He took a sip of tea, then gazed at his daughter for a long moment.
"Honey, I only want you to always be honest. Life is hard, but if our hearts are clean, whatever blessings come our way will be blessed too. That's enough for me."
"What if you're honest but still poor, Dad? What's the point?" Indriyani asked innocently as she sat beside him. Mr. Waluyo chuckled and rubbed his daughter's head.
"Hardship is temporary, sweetheart. But if your heart gets dirty from cheating, you'll suffer for the rest of your life. Even though I'm only a plantation worker, I can still sleep peacefully. That's a luxury not everyone has, you know."
"You always sound like some wise old man when you talk," Indriyani said with a small laugh.
"Because I learned from experience, not from books," Mr. Waluyo replied, laughing along. "Now go help your mother in the kitchen. I need to clean up first." Indriyani nodded, absorbing his words without knowing how much they would mean to her later.
The next morning, the roar of an unfamiliar engine shattered the plantation's peace. It wasn't the sound of an ordinary tea truck. It was heavier. More luxurious.
"Whose car is that, Dad?" Indriyani frowned, rising onto her toes to get a better look. The workers began gathering, their whispers turning into excited exclamations.
"That's the Young Master's car! Mr. Wahyu's son!"
"Young Master Akbar Riswanto is here!"
"How many years has it been since he came to the plantation? He must be a real city boy now."
A gleaming black sedan stopped in front of the security post, dust billowing around it. The rear door opened. A young man stepped out, his white shirt immaculate, his hair slicked neatly into place, an expensive watch gleaming on his wrist. He glanced at the shoes that had been lightly splattered with mud and frowned in disgust, as though the mud were a personal insult.
"Move," he said sharply, cutting off the workers' warm greetings as they crowded around to welcome him. "I don't have time for small talk." The workers who had been so enthusiastic immediately backed away, their faces turning sour. Indriyani watched through a gap in the hut wall.
Her heart sank at the way the man looked at the people around him, as though they were nothing but dust to be swept from his path.
"How was the harvest?" Akbar asked the old foreman, who hurried toward him, his tone sounding more like an order than a question.
"Good, Young Master. We met the target," the foreman replied, bowing deeply.
"Met the target? Really?" Akbar raised an eyebrow. "I heard from Jakarta that production is down this year. Are you trying to lie to me?" The foreman stammered.
"No, Young Master! I mean, there were weather problems, but we've been working hard."
"Working hard?" Akbar scoffed. "All your hard work is worthless if the results aren't up to par."
Indriyani clenched her fists. What an arrogant man, she thought. He doesn't respect anyone at all. Akbar paced beside his car, occasionally pulling out an expensive phone with a bored expression before putting it away again.
"This place is always the same. Dirty, stuffy. There's nothing entertaining to do." He let out a long sigh.
I need something interesting. His eyes swept over the expanse of green with a lazy gaze—until his steps suddenly stopped.
He saw Indriyani on the slope, her back to him, her figure displaying an elegant diligence. A worn sling basket covered her back, swaying gently with the movement of her body.
Sunlight touched the loose strands of hair escaping her simple bun, making them shimmer like threads of gold. Her hands were nimble and sure, plucking the fresh leaves without any rush.
The boredom vanished from Akbar's face. A fierce spark of curiosity lit his eyes. He had seen plenty of glamorous, artificial women in Jakarta. But this girl was different. Pure. Untouched.
He deliberately set off along the narrow path toward Indriyani, who was still absorbed in her work and unaware of his presence.
"Hey, girl," he called, his voice low and slightly hoarse. Indriyani jumped. The hand that had just picked a leaf stopped in midair. She turned around.
"What is it, sir?"
"You're here alone? Aren't you afraid?" Akbar stepped closer, looking up at her from below.
"Afraid of what, sir? I've been used to this place since I was little."
"I see." Akbar nodded slowly, pretending to be interested. "So you're a plantation worker's daughter?"
"Yes, sir. My father works here too." Indriyani felt slightly offended but held herself back.
"What's your name?"
"Indriyani."
"Indriyani," Akbar repeated, savoring the name on his tongue. "A beautiful name. But your face doesn't belong in a job like this. It's a shame your hands will grow rough from picking tea. You should be in the city, at a salon, in a boutique."
Indriyani's cheeks flushed. She had never received a compliment like that from a city man. Yet something about his words felt strange. There was no sincerity behind them.
"I like my work, sir. It's a blessing from God."
"A blessing? Breathing in the smell of mud for next to no pay?" Akbar laughed dismissively.
"That's not a blessing, Indriyani. That's your fate."
"You don't know anything," Indriyani shot back, clenching her fists.
"Oh, I know plenty." Akbar took a step forward. "I know you have far more potential than this. I know you could have so much more."
"I don't need more, sir. This is enough for me. Excuse me, I need to get back to work." She turned, intending to continue picking tea. Akbar raised a hand.
"Wait, Indriyani."
Indriyani turned back, her heart pounding. "What is it now, sir?"
"I'll be here for a few days," Akbar said, his gaze sharp. "Maybe we could meet again. Tonight, at the wooden bridge. What do you say?"
Indriyani was startled. "No, sir. I can't."
"Why not?" Akbar stepped closer again. "Are you afraid? Afraid your father will find out? Or afraid you'll fall in love with me?" He smiled crookedly.
"I'm just a country girl, sir. You're the big boss."
"Exactly." Akbar moved even closer, until only a few inches separated them. Indriyani could smell the sharp scent of expensive perfume coming from him.
"A sweet girl like you would be so much fun to teach all sorts of things."
Indriyani took a step back, holding her breath. She felt like prey backed into a corner.
"Tonight, no matter what. I'll be waiting for you," Akbar whispered before turning and walking away without waiting for her answer, as though his decision were final.
Indriyani stood frozen. She felt dirty from the man's gaze, from every word he had just spoken. Over the following days, Akbar kept appearing around the plantation. He no longer approached her directly. He simply stood in the distance, watching from behind the tea bushes or the trees.
Every time Indriyani looked up, her eyes met that sharp gaze. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The peace of her evenings now felt threatened. She could no longer pick tea cheerfully as she once had. Every movement felt watched.
One afternoon, Mrs. Waluyo noticed the change in her daughter. "What's wrong, honey? You've been so pale lately," she asked anxiously.
"Nothing's wrong, Mom," Indriyani lied, lowering her head. But she knew. That man was everywhere. That night, when Indriyani went to draw water from the public well, that voice called to her again from the darkness.
"Indriyani."
The bucket in her hand trembled. "Young Master Akbar."
"You didn't come that night," Akbar said, calm but slithering like a snake. He didn't sound angry; he was simply stating a fact.
"I was afraid to, sir."
"Don't be afraid of me. I only want to get to know you better." Akbar stopped several steps away from Indriyani.
"We're different, sir."
"Differences are interesting, Indriyani," Akbar said with a sly smile. "Very interesting. Especially an innocent girl like you."
"I don't understand what you mean, sir." Indriyani tensed.
"You will." Akbar reached out, trying to touch the girl's cheek. Indriyani instinctively stepped back.
Akbar sighed and lowered his hand to his side. "It's all right. I won't force you." He smiled again, this time more slyly.
"But I'll make you want me. I'll make you come to me, Indriyani. Willingly." He turned and left Indriyani standing in the bone-chilling air. His words and that watchful gaze felt like a trap. Indriyani was like a small animal that had only just realized it had wandered into a hunter's territory.
Akbar walked away, returning to his luxurious car. He got in, leaned back against the soft leather seat, then stared out the window toward Indriyani's hut, faint in the distance.
A cynical smirk curved across his lips.
"You'll be mine, Indriyani," he whispered into the darkness of night. "I've already decided."