Arga did not open the envelope right away.
He stood in front of Adrian's house, his body feeling stiff.
“Your mother chose to make you hate her.”
Adrian's words kept circling in his mind.
For twenty-nine years, Arga had thought of himself as a son who had been abandoned.
Now, for the first time, he began to wonder if he had actually been saved all along.
Raka stood beside him.
“You gonna open it now?”
Arga stared at the envelope in his hand.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because if I open it, everything changes.”
Raka did not argue.
They walked back toward the motorcycle.
But before Arga could get on, his phone vibrated.
A message came in.
An unknown number.
Don't trust Adrian.
Arga stared at the screen.
A second message appeared.
He's not your father's savior.
Arga sighed.
“Rak.”
Raka looked at the screen.
“He's still watching us.”
“Looks like it.”
“So now we have two stories.”
Arga nodded.
“And we don't know which one is true.”
They returned to the inn.
Arga sat alone by the window.
The envelope was still on the table.
He stared at it for almost an hour.
Finally, he opened it slowly.
Inside were three sheets of paper.
The handwriting had faded.
At the top, it read:
For my son, Arga.
Arga drew a long breath.
Then he began to read.
Son,
If this letter has reached you, it means I may no longer have time to explain everything.
Arga paused for a moment.
His eyes began to burn.
He continued.
I don't know whether I'll still be alive when you read this letter. But I hope for one thing: never believe that I left because I didn't love you.
Tears fell.
Arga wiped his face.
For years, he had imagined his father as someone who had chosen to abandon him.
Yet those words felt like a voice that had been missing all this time.
The night I left Kalendra, I wasn't alone.
Sari was with me.
You were with us too.
Arga held his breath.
He read faster.
We knew someone was looking for you.
His hands trembled.
We didn't know who had sent them. We only knew that person had a connection to your family's past.
Arga stopped.
His family's past?
He continued.
I wanted to take you far away from Kalendra. Sari wanted to come with us. But circumstances changed.
The writing below looked more hurried.
We split up that night.
Arga stared at the letter.
Sari took you away along the southern road. I went another way to draw their attention away.
Arga closed his eyes.
All this time, he had thought his father had left.
But perhaps Bima had deliberately kept his distance so Arga could stay safe.
Then he read the next sentence.
If you ever wonder why Sari never told you everything, the answer is simple.
Arga swallowed.
Because I asked her to.
He froze.
Bima had asked Sari to keep the secret.
I asked her to make you believe that I had abandoned you both.
Arga stared at the letter, his eyes glistening with tears.
Because if they found out that you were my son and were still with Sari, they would find you.
Arga gripped the paper.
“Who are they?”
The question left his lips even though there was no one else in the room.
The letter offered an incomplete answer.
Adrian will help you if you ever seek the truth.
Arga stopped.
Adrian.
That meant Bima really had trusted Adrian.
But why were the mysterious messages telling him to stay away from the man?
Arga read the final section.
But there is one person you must avoid.
A name appeared below it.
Arga read it.
Then his entire body went rigid.
Damar Wiratama.
Adrian's younger brother.
The old man from Wanastra.
The man who had chased him through the warehouse.
The man who had known about his search all this time.
Arga read on.
Damar knows about you.
If he finds you before you learn the whole truth, don't believe anything he says.
Arga stopped.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
Damar wasn't merely someone who knew about the past.
He might be the person who had been watching Arga all along.
But the letter wasn't finished.
There was one last sentence.
Son, there is another reason I had to leave.
The writing at the bottom was even fainter.
You are not the first child we tried to save.
Arga froze.
What did that mean?
He read the sentence over and over.
Not the first child.
That meant before Arga was born…
There had been another child?
Arga stared blankly ahead.
Raka, who had been outside the room, came in.
“You done?”
Arga did not answer.
Raka looked at his face.
“What happened?”
Arga handed him the letter.
Raka read it.
A few minutes later, his expression changed.
“Arga…”
“Do I have a sibling?”
Raka did not answer right away.
“I don't know.”
“Bima said I wasn't the first child they tried to save.”
Raka read that part again.
“Then there might've been another child.”
“Whose child?”
“Maybe…”
Raka stopped.
Arga looked at him.
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe your sibling.”
The room fell silent.
Arga sat down slowly.
All his life, he had never known he might have a sibling.
He had never heard a name.
Never seen a photograph.
Never been told that there might once have been someone before him.
Someone who might have gone through the same thing.
Someone who might not have been saved.
That night, Arga called his mother again.
This time, Sari answered.
“Arga?”
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“I know about Adrian.”
Sari fell silent.
“I know about Damar.”
There was no answer.
“I also know Dad asked you to keep everything secret.”
Sari's breathing sounded heavy.
“How did you find out?”
“From Dad's letter.”
Sari began to cry.
Arga closed his eyes.
“Mom, why?”
“Because I was afraid of losing you.”
“Why didn't you ever tell me?”
“Because I promised your father.”
“What promise?”
Sari was silent for a long time.
Then she said,
“A promise to let you live like a normal child.”
Arga laughed bitterly.
“A normal child?”
“I know it doesn't make sense.”
“Mom, for twenty-nine years, I grew up without a father.”
“I know.”
“People asked me who my dad was.”
“I know.”
“I hated him once.”
Sari cried even harder.
“I know, son.”
Arga tightened his grip on the phone.
“Why did you let me hate him?”
“Because if you knew your father was still trying to protect you…”
Sari stopped.
“…you would've gone looking for him.”
Arga fell silent.
And he realized it.
That was exactly what had happened.
If he had known from childhood that Bima had left to protect him, he might have gone looking for him much sooner.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Is Dad still alive?”
Silence.
The question kept Sari from answering right away.
Arga waited.
Finally, Sari said,
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
“The last time I saw him…”
Her voice trembled.
“…he was still alive.”
Arga held his breath.
“When?”
Sari cried.
“Twenty-nine years ago.”
Arga closed his eyes.
“So all this time, you never knew whether he was dead or alive?”
“No.”
“Why didn't you look for him?”
“Because we agreed…”
“Agreed to what?”
Sari fell silent.
“If one of us survived, that person couldn't look for the other.”
Arga felt his chest tighten.
“Why?”
Sari answered in an almost whisper.
“Because they're still looking for us.”
Arga's eyes flew open.
“Who are they?”
Sari did not answer.
“Mom.”
“Arga, come home.”
“I can't.”
“Come home.”
“I need to know.”
Sari cried.
“If you keep looking…”
“Why?”
“Because they'll know you've found the letter.”
The call suddenly cut off.
Arga stared at the screen.
Then a message came in.
It wasn't from the mysterious number.
It was from his mother's number.
Don't come back to Kalendra.
Arga furrowed his brow.
He immediately called back.
The number was inactive.
A few seconds later, a second message arrived.
Go to Wanastra Station. Come alone.
Arga stood.
Raka immediately noticed the change in his expression.
“What is it?”
Arga showed him the message.
“This is from my mother.”
Raka read it.
“She wants to meet?”
“Looks like it.”
“Now?”
Arga checked the time.
1:13 a.m.
“Now.”
Raka shook his head.
“This could be a trap.”
“I know.”
“Then what?”
Arga put Bima's letter in his bag.
“I'm going anyway.”
Wanastra Station was nearly empty.
The platform lights glowed dimly.
Arga stood alone.
Raka waited in the distance.
As the message instructed, Arga had come alone.
He looked at the people around him.
Sari was nowhere to be seen.
1:30 a.m.
Nothing.
1:40.
Still nothing.
Then a train passed without stopping.
The wind struck Arga's face.
When the train disappeared from view, someone stood at the end of the platform.
A woman.
Arga recognized her immediately.
She wasn't his mother.
The woman walked closer.
She looked about forty years old.
She stopped a few yards in front of Arga.
“You're Arga?”
Arga nodded.
“Who are you?”
The woman looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“My name is Maya.”
“You know my mother?”
Maya nodded.
“More than you can imagine.”
“Why didn't my mother come?”
Maya fell silent.
Then she said,
“Because your mother never sent that message.”
Arga froze.
“What?”
Maya showed him her phone.
“Your mother's number has been inactive since this afternoon.”
Arga took out his own phone.
The message was still there.
His chest suddenly turned cold.
“Then who sent it?”
Maya did not answer.
She only stared at Arga, her face filled with fear.
Then she said,
“Damar.”
Arga turned.
“Damar sent that message?”
Maya nodded.
“He wanted you to come here.”
“Why?”
Maya stepped closer.
“To tell you something before he finds you.”
“What?”
Maya drew a long breath.
Then she spoke the words that made Arga's entire body freeze.
“Arga, Bima isn't your biological father.”
Pearls of Wisdom
“The most painful truth isn't always about who left, but about who we've believed all along was a part of us.”