Ratna knew Lina's name before Arga ever mentioned it.
Not because Arga told her about her.
Because the name came up too often.
On his phone screen.
In his notifications.
In half-conscious conversations.
Once, Arga came home one night carrying two cups of drinks.
Ratna asked, "Who's the other one for?"
Arga answered, "Lina."
Then stopped.
Ratna didn't ask anything else at the time.
She just remembered.
There was also the time Arga came by on a Sunday afternoon carrying a box of food.
"Who made this?"
"Didn't make it. Bought it."
"Who?"
"Lina."
Again.
The same name.
Ratna didn't need to be a detective.
Her son wasn't very good at hiding important people, either.
There was only one thing Ratna didn't know.
How important Lina was.
As it turned out, three years.
The morning after Arga confessed, Ratna woke up earlier than usual.
Not because she wanted to think about Lina.
At least, that's what she told herself.
She swept the porch.
Watered the plants.
Made tea.
Then she sat in the dining room and found a mug Arga had bought during a trip to Bandung.
There was a small inscription on the bottom.
For Mom. Don't use it to hold spoons.
Ratna smiled.
That was Arga.
He didn't say he loved her very often.
But he remembered the little things.
Maybe that was why he could date someone for three years without saying a word.
He could love quietly.
Be afraid quietly.
Put everything off until it felt too late.
Ratna picked up her phone.
Arga's chat was at the top.
Ratna: Have you called Lina?
There was no reply.
Three minutes.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Ratna set her phone down.
Then picked it up again.
Ratna: Don't take too long.
A reply finally came in.
Arga: Yeah.
That was all.
Ratna sighed.
He'd always been economical with his words, even as a child.
Arga came by again that afternoon.
Without warning.
Ratna was cutting papaya.
"What brings you here?"
Arga opened the fridge.
"Cold water."
"You don't have any at home?"
"I do."
Ratna stared at him.
Arga took out a bottle.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Ratna went back to cutting the papaya.
"Well?"
"Well, what?"
"The call."
Arga nodded.
"And?"
"She accepted the Singapore offer."
Ratna paused.
"You told her to take it?"
"I told her to take it."
"Is she happy?"
"I don't know."
Ratna looked at him.
Arga immediately corrected himself.
"Mixed feelings."
"See?"
Arga sat down at the dining table.
Ratna pushed a plate of papaya toward him.
"Eat."
"I don't want any."
"Take a piece."
Arga took one.
Ratna sat across from him.
"When is she leaving?"
"Thirty days from now."
"A month."
"Yeah."
"Is it far?"
"Singapore."
Ratna gave him a flat look.
"I know what country it is."
Arga let out a small laugh.
"I mean, it's not that far."
"It is when you miss someone."
Arga didn't answer.
Ratna looked at her son.
Part of him looked relieved.
Part of him didn't.
"Are you going with her?"
"Huh?"
"To Singapore."
"Why would I?"
"If you want to see it."
Arga shook his head.
"Not yet."
Ratna took a piece of papaya.
"What about her family?"
"They know."
"About you?"
"Yeah."
"All of them?"
"I think so."
Ratna raised an eyebrow.
Arga sighed.
"Yeah. They know."
"And?"
"No one's thrown anything at me yet."
"Don't joke."
Arga fell silent.
Ratna waited.
"Her mom is introducing her to someone."
Ratna stopped.
"Who?"
"Daniel."
"Does she like him?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
"She said so."
Ratna looked at Arga for a long moment.
"You believe her?"
Arga answered immediately. "Yeah."
The answer came quickly.
With certainty.
Ratna gave a small nod.
At least there was one thing her son didn't doubt.
A few days later, Ratna saw a photo of Lina for the first time, deliberately.
Not from Arga.
From his WhatsApp status.
Arga had uploaded a photo of a dining table.
Two bowls.
A woman's hand barely visible at the edge of the frame.
No face.
No caption.
Ratna sent him a message.
Ratna: Is that Lina?
Arga replied:
Yeah.
Ratna: Where's her face?
Arga: Why?
Ratna: I want to see her.
There was no reply for a while.
Then he sent a photo.
An ordinary photo.
Lina was sitting in a little café, looking to the side, probably unaware that someone was taking her picture.
Her hair was tied back.
A glass of iced tea sat in front of her.
No pose.
Ratna zoomed in a little.
Not to look for flaws.
She just wanted to know the face of the woman who had made her son afraid for three years.
Ratna: She's pretty.
Arga: Yeah.
Ratna paused.
That answer had come too quickly, too.
Ratna smiled to herself.
Ratna: You took the picture?
Arga: Yeah.
Ratna: Does she know?
Arga: No.
Ratna: Poor thing.
Arga: Why are you being such a smart-ass now, Mom?
Ratna: I learned from Dimas.
Arga sent a laughing emoji.
Ratna looked at the photo again.
It was hard to hate someone based on a single photo.
Especially when she looked so ordinary.
Real.
Not a problem.
Not a difference.
Just a woman drinking iced tea, unaware that someone was taking her picture.
The following Sunday, Arga came over to help fix the kitchen light.
Ratna deliberately waited until he was done.
"Arga."
"Hm?"
"If Lina doesn't end up leaving, do you want to get married?"
The screwdriver in Arga's hand stopped.
"Mom."
"What?"
"That's a long way off."
"You've been together for three years."
"The problem isn't just the job."
"I know."
Arga climbed down from the little chair.
Ratna stood beside the fridge.
"Have you ever talked about marriage?"
Arga set down the screwdriver.
"A little."
"What does a little mean?"
"We have."
"And?"
Arga fell silent.
Ratna didn't need to be an expert to know.
"You hit a wall?"
"Yeah."
"Because of religion?"
Arga nodded.
Ratna sighed.
She already knew.
It was still hard to hear him say it out loud.
"Does she want to convert?"
Arga shook his head immediately.
"Don't ask that."
Ratna looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because that's not the answer."
"What about you?"
"No."
Ratna nodded.
There were so many things she could say.
About family.
About marriage.
About how the world didn't always want to follow love.
But Arga already knew all of that.
What he didn't know was what to do after knowing it.
Ratna finally said, "I don't want you to tell anyone to abandon their beliefs because you're afraid of losing them."
Arga stared at her.
Ratna continued, "That includes you."
Arga looked slightly surprised.
"What did you think I was going to say?"
"I don't know."
Ratna smiled faintly.
"Good. Every once in a while, it's okay not to know."
Arga let out a small laugh.
Then he fell silent again.
"I can't tell you that your relationship will definitely work," Ratna said. "But I don't want to pretend Lina doesn't exist just because I'm afraid, either."
Arga looked at the floor.
"Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Ratna pointed at the light.
"It isn't on."
Arga looked up.
"Oh."
Ratna shook her head.
"Romance is fine. Finish the job first."
A few days later, Ratna got a call from her older sibling.
The conversation began normally.
The price of chilies.
The neighbor's child getting married.
A family event.
Then her sibling asked, "When is Arga?"
Ratna looked at the front door.
"Not yet."
"He doesn't have anyone yet?"
Ratna fell silent.
Her answer used to be easy.
Not yet.
Now it wasn't.
"He does."
"Oh, really? Who?"
Ratna rubbed the side of her glass.
"Her name is Lina."
"Where's she from?"
"Jakarta."
"What does she do?"
"Design."
"Muslim?"
The question came that quickly.
Ratna wasn't surprised.
She just wasn't ready.
"Christian."
Silence filled the other end of the line.
Then her sibling's voice dropped.
"What?"
Ratna looked at the table.
"Yeah."
"So what now?"
"I don't know."
For the first time, Ratna used her son's answer.
It didn't feel good.
Her sibling began talking at length.
About how hard it would be.
About family.
About the future.
About children.
Ratna listened.
Everything was true.
She had thought about all of it, too.
Finally, Ratna cut in.
"They know, too."
"And you're okay with it?"
"I didn't say I was okay with it."
"Then what?"
Ratna looked at Lina's photo, still saved in her chat with Arga.
"I'm just saying she exists."
That was enough to stop the conversation for a few seconds.
Ratna realized something.
Sometimes the first step wasn't acceptance.
It wasn't approval.
It was simply stopping the pretense that someone didn't exist.
That night, Arga came over for dinner.
Ratna didn't mention the phone call.
She only asked, "Has Lina started packing?"
"She has."
"Are you helping?"
"Yeah."
"What date is she leaving?"
Arga told her the date.
Ratna nodded.
"Are you taking her to the airport?"
"Yeah."
"Are her parents going with her?"
"Yeah."
Ratna was silent for a moment.
Then she said, "If there's time before she leaves..."
Arga turned to her.
"What?"
"Bring her here."
Arga stopped eating.
Ratna took a drink of water.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Seriously?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"So we can meet."
Arga still didn't say anything.
Ratna sighed.
"Arga, I'm not going to interrogate her."
"That's exactly what makes it scary."
Ratna lightly kicked his foot under the table.
"Smart-ass."
Arga laughed.
Then his expression turned cautious again.
"Are you sure?"
Ratna didn't answer right away.
Sure was a big word.
She wasn't sure about anything yet.
Not about Arga's future.
Not about Lina.
Not about how any of this would end.
But she was sure of one thing.
Three years was too long to keep calling someone "Arga's friend."
"Yes," Ratna said. "Bring her over."
Arga nodded.
"Okay."
Ratna watched her son for a few seconds.
There was a slight change in his face.
Not huge relief.
Just the look of someone who had been given room to take one step.
Ratna knew one step didn't solve anything.
But sometimes it was the only thing a person could do.
Before he left, Arga stood by the door, putting on his shoes.
Ratna said, "Arga."
He turned.
"When Lina comes over..."
"Hm?"
"What should I call her?"
Arga furrowed his brow.
"Lina."
"Not ma'am?"
"She's younger than you."
"Oh."
Arga laughed.
Ratna narrowed her eyes.
"What?"
"Nothing. It's just funny that you're thinking about that."
Ratna pointed at the door.
"Go home."
Arga opened the door.
Before he stepped out, he smiled faintly.
"Thanks, Mom."
Ratna nodded.
The door closed.
The house grew quiet again.
Ratna stood alone for a few seconds.
Before, Lina's name had been nothing more than a notification on her son's phone screen.
Now there was a chance that woman would sit at her dining table.
Not as a problem.
Not as a theory.
As Lina.
And Ratna knew that once someone had a face, a voice, and a laugh of her own, everything would become more difficult.
Maybe more honest, too.