#A Man and His Wounds
The man who also carried wounds was named Lana. A Man and His Wounds.
5:00 a.m. Western Indonesian Time. The sound of an alarm rang out repeatedly from a cell phone in a simple room. Lana opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling for several seconds, as though gathering a reason to get out of bed. His body had not fully recovered from yesterday's exhaustion. But a new day never asked whether someone was ready to face it. The alarm rang again. Lana finally reached for his phone and turned it off. He sat on the edge of the bed. Rubbed his face. Took a deep breath. Then stood up. The day had to begin again. No matter how hard yesterday had been. No matter how little energy he had left. There were many things he had to think about. And as the eldest child of four siblings, Lana was used to one reality: there were many things he couldn't leave behind just because he was tired. He left the room. The house was still fairly quiet. The sounds of dishes and utensils came from the kitchen. His mother had gotten up earlier. “Lana, before you leave later, please buy something for your younger sibling, okay?” Lana nodded. “Yeah, Mom.” There was no long conversation. No one asked how he had slept. No one asked whether he had been all right last night. Not because his family didn't care. Maybe they were simply too used to living their own lives. Lana was used to it too. He had never demanded much. Since childhood, he had learned that being the eldest child meant having to understand more. Having to give in more. Having to be strong more. And sometimes... having to stay quiet more.
After getting ready, Lana picked up his wallet. He checked what was inside. Not much. The money he had left already had its own purposes. Some for household expenses. Some for his younger sibling. Some for transportation. And the rest... even he didn't know how long it would last. Lana opened his mobile banking app. The balance in his account left him silent for a moment. He did the math in his head. This month's needs. Bills. His younger sibling's expenses. Household expenses. Not to mention his own needs. He locked his phone. There was no point thinking about it for too long. As long as he could still work, he would find a way. As long as he was still blessed with good health, he would keep trying. That was how Lana had survived all this time. Not because he always knew what to do. But because giving up was not an option.
7:10 a.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana left for work. The roads were beginning to fill up. Vehicles passed back and forth in front of him. He drove his vehicle calmly. He didn't talk much. He didn't complain much. People who knew him might say Lana was a fairly calm man. Low-profile. Not much of a troublemaker. He didn't like talking about his problems. If someone asked: “Tired?” His answer was almost always the same. “Same as usual.” If someone asked: “Something wrong?” He would offer a faint smile. “Nothing.” Even though... there were so many things he actually wanted to talk about. It was just that Lana didn't know who to talk to.
That day, work felt longer than usual. One task was finished. Another was waiting. Messages from home came in several times. Mom: Lana, don't forget to buy your younger sibling's necessities on your way home later. Then another message. Mom: If you have any extra money, help pay that bill first this month, okay? Lana read the messages. He didn't reply for several seconds. Then he typed: Lana: Yeah, Mom. I'll do my best. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. The words “do my best” were among the ones he used most often in life. Because he could never promise something he might not be able to provide. But he also could never bring himself to say: “I can't.”
6:40 p.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana had just finished work. His friends began heading home. Some of them talked about their weekend plans. Some wanted to eat together. Some wanted to go out of town. Some had already planned vacations. Lana only smiled as he listened. “Lan, are you coming?” He shook his head. “Not this time.” “Why not?” Lana thought for a moment. Then answered casually. “I have a lot of expenses right now.” His friend nodded. The conversation ended. No one knew that money wasn't the only reason Lana wasn't going. He was also too tired to explain his life at length.
8:15 p.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana arrived home. He carried several things his mother had asked him to buy. He handed them over one by one. There were no long exchanges. Lana then went into his room. Closed the door. And for the first time since morning... he could be himself. He set his bag on the floor. His body sank onto the edge of the bed. Lana lowered his head. Silence. He picked up his phone. Opened a few apps. Then closed them again. Nothing truly held his attention. For some reason, that night felt quieter. Even though there were still sounds of the television outside his room. The sounds of his family. The occasional sound of vehicles passing by. His house was not empty. But Lana's heart felt empty. He leaned against the wall. Closed his eyes. For a moment, a question surfaced in his mind. “How long do I have to keep living like this?” Lana opened his eyes. He didn't know the answer either. Since childhood, he had always thought that being strong meant not being allowed to complain. Not being allowed to cry. Not being allowed to ask for help. Not being allowed to show that he could break too. But that night... he began to feel tired of the role he had been playing all this time. Not tired from working. Not just tired of being the eldest child. But tired of always feeling that he had to be okay.
Lana picked up his phone again. He opened social media. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. There was nothing he was really looking for. He just wanted his mind to stop for a while. Until an ad appeared on the screen. An app he had never heard of before. RandomChat. Lana furrowed his brow. “What the heck is this?” He almost scrolled past it. But a few seconds later, he looked at the ad again. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was bored. Or perhaps that night... he simply needed someone who didn't know him. His finger touched the screen. The app began downloading. Lana watched the little circle on the screen keep spinning. A few seconds later... RandomChat was installed. He stared at the app icon. He didn't open it right away. He only stared. Then he set his phone down beside him. Lana leaned his head back again. He didn't know what would happen. He wasn't even looking for someone to become an important part of his life. He just wanted to talk. To a stranger. Someone who didn't know who he was. Didn't know his family. Didn't know his job. Didn't know how many burdens he was carrying. Maybe... precisely because that person didn't know him, Lana could talk without being afraid of seeming weak. He picked up his phone again. His finger moved toward the RandomChat icon. But before opening it... Lana stopped. He stared at the screen for a long time. Then smiled faintly. “Tomorrow.” He set the phone down again. The room light went out. Lana lay down. But that night, before his eyes fully closed, a simple thought crossed his mind: “If there were someone who truly wanted to listen, maybe I'd want to tell them my story.” He didn't know... in another city, there was a woman named Luna who had also just made it through a long day. A woman who, like him, kept many things hidden behind her silence. A woman who had also downloaded the same app a few hours earlier. But the two of them didn't know each other yet. Didn't know each other's names. Didn't know each other's faces. Didn't know each other's voices. Didn't know that the stranger who would appear on their screens... was carrying a wound almost the same as theirs, only in a different form. And that night... two equally exhausted people were sleeping in different places. Without knowing that Allah was writing a meeting they had never imagined. —To be continued—