Panic spread swiftly, like a spill of black ink across white paper. Arka’s face went pale in an instant, his empty gaze fixed on the row of mahogany trees that had felt so calming only moments ago. The phone in his hand slowly lowered, revealing how violently his fingers were trembling. Within seconds, the composure that had long served as Arka’s fortress collapsed without a trace, leaving behind the terrified expression of a child who feared losing the person who had protected him all his life.
“Ka? We’re going to Bandung now,” Nara said without the slightest hesitation. She reached for Arka’s cold fingers and squeezed them tightly, trying to pass along a little of her calm. There was no room for questions or second thoughts. Seeing Arka so fragile before her, Nara’s instincts told her only to be there and not let him bear this pain alone.
Arka turned to her, looking at Nara with an expression caught between confusion and emotion. “But, Ra... your work, your novel draft...” “It can wait,” Nara cut in firmly, her voice steady and free of doubt. “My novel can wait, but you need someone by your side right now. We’ll take your car. I’ll drive if you get tired.”
Their drive along the highway to Bandung that afternoon was wrapped in an oppressive silence. Strong winds carried gray clouds hanging low over the expressway, scattering a fine drizzle that dampened the windshield. Arka sat behind the wheel, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His eyes stared straight through the stretch of wet asphalt, but his thoughts had clearly drifted far away, to a sterile treatment room somewhere in Bandung.
Nara placed her hand over the back of Arka’s and slowly rubbed it with her thumb. “Breathe slowly, Ka. We’ll get there in time.”
Arka let out a long, heavy breath, trying to master the anxiety rumbling in his chest. “Dad’s had heart disease for three years, Ra. But he always refused major surgery because he was afraid it would use up the savings we’d been gathering to pay off the rest of our old debts. He was willing to endure the pain every day just so I could focus on finishing my studies and building an architecture firm.”
Arka’s voice turned hoarse and trembled as he told her. The tears he had been holding back finally slipped down, wetting his cheeks. “All this time, I’ve been fighting hard not only to prove myself to you, but also to make up for everything Dad has suffered. I wanted him to see me succeed, to see me build a home of our own... I haven’t had the chance to make him truly happy yet, Ra.” Nara took in every word that fell from Arka’s lips. Her heart ached at the sheer weight of the sacrifices and emotional burdens he had carried over the past seven years. Arka’s love for his family, his enormous sense of responsibility, and his loyalty to the memories of the past made Nara realize just how deep and noble the soul of the man beside her truly was.
Two hours later, the black sedan cut through Bandung’s rain-soaked afternoon traffic. They arrived at the grounds of Hasan Sadikin Hospital. The familiar smell of antiseptic and the chill of the hospital’s air-conditioning greeted them as they hurried down long corridors lined with faded white walls.
In front of the ICU, Arka’s steps suddenly stopped. His eyes fixed on the thick glass door bearing the visiting-hours restrictions. Through the glass, an old white-haired man lay weakly beneath an array of tubes, a heart monitor beeping in a slow rhythm beside him.
Arka collapsed onto a cold metal bench in the hospital corridor, covering his face with both hands. His shoulders rose and fell as he struggled beneath the surge of guilt and fear. Nara knelt in front of him. Without caring about the cold hospital floor, she pulled Arka’s hands away from his face and looked intently into his eyes.
“Listen to me, Arka,” Nara whispered, gentle but full of conviction. “Your father knows you’ve fought as hard as you can. He’s held on this long because he’s proud to have a son like you. You’re here now. We’re here. Don’t give up before you get to whisper that to him.”
Arka gazed into Nara’s eyes, glowing with warmth. In the dim, quiet hospital corridor, Arka found his foothold in life again. The man who had always fought to be his own hero in the middle of every storm now realized he was no longer walking without support. Nara was no longer merely a dream in his faded sketches, but a solid pillar standing firmly at his side.
Arka clasped Nara’s fingers and brought them to his forehead in a bow filled with gratitude. “Thank you, Ra... Thank you for not letting me fall apart alone.”
Outside the hospital, the rain poured harder over Bandung, but inside that cold corridor, two clasped hands became a symbol that even the fiercest storm would never be able to tear them apart again.