The month leading up to the delivery felt like the longest stretch of days that house had ever endured. The air in every corner seemed thick with a coldness and awkwardness that never lifted.
Since dawn, the silence of the main house had been shattered by the noise coming from the side yard. The roar of trucks unloading stacks of red bricks, the clink of shovels mixing sand and cement, and the lively pounding of hammers as the construction workers began laying the foundation for the second house echoed nonstop throughout the day. To Raina, every blow of a hammer was more than the sound of construction. It was a stark reminder that kept stabbing her in the gut: the structure of her marriage was being forcibly rearranged right before her eyes.
Inside the main house, Raina completely withdrew from the outside world. The dark-polished door to her bedroom was almost always tightly closed. She spent most of her time lying on the bed, staring blankly at the curtains, which swayed now and then in the breeze. As her body grew increasingly tired from carrying her ninth-month pregnancy, the tightness in her chest often came without warning.
“I can’t do this anymore, Auntie Nyai...” Raina whispered one afternoon, dropping her forehead into Auntie Nyai’s lap when the ache in her heart became unbearable again. Her tears spilled silently, soaking the sarong worn by the middle-aged woman. “Ina’s chest hurts so much... I don’t know how much longer I can keep going like this...”
Auntie Nyai, sitting on the edge of the bed, could only wrap her arms tightly around her fragile niece’s shoulders. Her warm hands never stopped rubbing Raina’s back and wiping the cold sweat from her temples as she murmured soothing prayers into the woman’s ear.
“Stay strong, Ina... I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. There’s a child inside you who needs you to hold on. For the sake of your little angel, sweetheart...” Auntie Nyai whispered, trying to keep the tremor out of her own voice.
Raina drew a long, uneven breath. Slowly, her cold hands lowered to the swell of her fully rounded belly. The moment she felt the gentle movement and tiny kicks from inside her womb, the dullness in her eyes softened. A tiny life was pulsing in there—the only reason she was still holding on to this world.
“You’re a strong child...” Raina whispered to her belly, her voice trembling with love. “Don’t be sad too, okay, sweetheart? Forgive Mom... Mom is weak, but you have to grow up to be strong...”
Though her heart had been torn apart, Raina remarkably never harbored blind resentment toward Ayu. As a woman who was also more than eight months pregnant, her maternal instincts prevented her from being cruel. She knew that the child in Ayu’s womb had done nothing wrong. Because of that, Raina treated Ayu with measured restraint: cold, matter-of-fact, without pretending to be friendly, but still humane and respectful of boundaries.
Ayu herself lived in that house like a shadow. Suffocated by shame and guilt, she almost never stepped outside the guest room in the back corner. Auntie Nyai delivered all her meals and vitamins directly to her.
Until one day, an unexpected encounter finally took place in the kitchen. That afternoon, Raina left her room to get some medicated oil from the dining room cabinet and came face-to-face with Ayu, who was returning a cup to the sink. The moment Ayu realized Raina’s footsteps were approaching, she froze in shock.
Ayu’s steps suddenly turned stiff, the glass in her hand trembling slightly as her eyes immediately dropped to the floor, not daring to meet Raina’s gaze for even a moment. Her heavily pregnant body pressed itself against the hallway wall, trying to make as much room as possible for her husband’s first wife.
“M-Ma’am...” Ayu squeaked, her voice catching in her throat, her head bowed deeply with fear.
Raina’s footsteps slowed. Her gaze rested for a few seconds on the woman before her, taking in Ayu’s pale face and her swollen belly, nearly as large as Raina’s own. There was no furious shouting, no cutting remark, and no dramatic explosion in the silent hallway.
Raina only looked at her for a moment, drew a deep breath, and spoke a single sentence in a completely flat tone. “Don’t be late taking your vitamins.”
She said it without a smile, coldly, making no effort to sound sweet or familiar. Yet within those words was sincere concern, directed purely at the baby growing inside Ayu.
Once the words had left her lips, Raina continued straight ahead without looking back, letting her clothes brush softly against the hallway air as she returned to her room.
Ayu stood frozen where she was. Those brief words, so cold yet filled with such generosity of spirit, shattered her feelings more deeply than any insult could have. Ayu’s tears fell onto the wooden floor, accompanied by a growing sense of humility, emotion, and remorse in her heart.