Naila stood in front of the wardrobe for quite some time.
Her hand was still gripping the door handle.
But her gaze was fixed on a small red box tucked all the way at the back of the drawer.
The box had gone untouched for years.
Even when they had truly been out of money several times, Naila had never considered opening it.
Because inside that box was something incredibly precious.
Not because of its price.
But because it was proof of the love they shared.
Naila had even been too fond of it to wear, since her hands were always touching flour and dough as she made food.
Naila drew a deep breath.
Her hand slowly reached for the box.
Click. The box opened.
A gold ring lay on a velvet cloth.
The wedding ring Raka had given her on their wedding day.
Five years ago, when Raka had slipped the ring onto her finger.
Now, it was the only valuable thing they had left, apart from the other jewelry they had already sold.
Naila picked up the ring.
She held it tightly.
"Mas ...."
Tears began to well in her eyes.
"I'm sorry that I'm going to sell our most precious and only keepsake, but what else can we do? We still have to keep going. I know you can't work because your phone is broken, even though you can't bring yourself to say it," Naila said, speaking to herself.
The woman then went to a gold shop with a neighbor accompanying her so she could buy a phone for her husband.
Meanwhile, after his wife left, Raka stopped his motorcycle in front of an antique shop.
His hand gripped a cloth bag containing the antique clock passed down from his great-grandfather.
Several times, he considered turning back home, because the clock had been preserved by his family for generations and had been his great-grandfather's cherished possession.
But every time he was about to turn around, the faces of his two children came to mind, along with the sobs of his wife, who had run up a grocery tab after being pranked by an irresponsible person.
In the end, he went inside.
A middle-aged man stood behind the display case.
"Looking to sell an antique?"
Raka nodded. Then he took the antique clock out of the cloth bag.
The man took the antique clock. He then sat behind an old wooden desk with a small magnifying glass in his hand. He placed the antique clock in front of him, carefully setting it on a black velvet cloth.
He picked up the magnifying glass and examined the small engravings on the back of the clock.
"The serial number is still visible."
His finger slowly traced each engraving.
"The case also appears never to have been replaced."
He then inspected the front. The clock's dial, whose color had changed with age, only made him examine it more intently.
"Don't clean it again," he said suddenly.
"Why?" Raka asked.
"The patina on this dial is one of the things that makes it appealing. If it's polished or repainted, its value could drop. I want to make sure everything is still original first."
The collector then turned the crown very slowly.
A soft mechanical sound could be heard.
Tick ...
Tick ...
The second hand began to move.
"I need to see the movement."
Very carefully, he opened the back of the clock. As soon as the case back lifted, his eyes immediately focused on the movement inside.
He picked up the magnifying glass once again.
Several seconds passed.
"Here's the caliber number."
He pointed to a small engraving.
"The components still have their original arrangement. That's unlike most antique clocks, whose movements have already been replaced or fitted with reproduction parts."
He checked the gears, springs, screws, and even the timekeeping regulator again.
"This clock has been serviced before, but whoever worked on it seems to have been quite careful. Its main components haven't been altered."
He then took an old catalog from the shelf behind him. He flipped rapidly through the pages.
His finger stopped at a picture.
He compared the picture with the clock lying on the desk.
His expression slowly turned serious.
"So, how much do you want to sell this antique clock for?" the antique collector asked.