A transfer notification came into my account at seven in the morning. Bram had kept his promise. The balance in my e-banking account now showed eighteen million rupiah. Added to the three and a half million I had left in savings, the total funds I had managed to gather came to twenty-one and a half million rupiah. I was still short another three and a half million to meet those debt collectors' demand tomorrow afternoon.
“Ghan, where the hell were you yesterday?!” Mr. Bambang’s voice boomed the moment I stepped into the logistics warehouse area.
“The audit was a mess because the Tangerang shipment manifest was entered late! If you’re only going to do half-assed work, you might as well quit!”
I bowed my head as deeply as I could. In front of Mr. Bambang, I had no room to defend myself. The truth—that I had skipped work to save my younger brother from debt collectors chasing him—wouldn’t change the fact that I had violated workplace rules.
“I’m sorry, sir. There was a very urgent family emergency yesterday. I promise it won’t happen again,” I said, lowering my voice and sounding as resigned as possible.
Mr. Bambang let out a rough sigh, then tossed a sheet of paper onto my desk. “This is an SP-1 warning letter for you. Your pay will be cut by five percent next month. Now hurry up and finish entering the rest of yesterday’s data!”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
I sat down in my work chair, my chest feeling tight. A five-percent pay cut next month was another hard blow to our already incredibly tight budget. But at least I still had this job. I couldn’t afford to lose my only anchor.
At six in the evening, I went home. Usually, around this time, our house would be filled with the blaring sound of the television playing with no one watching it, or Ghea’s voice complaining because Gastan had left a wet towel on the bed. But today, the house was completely silent. It was highly unusual.
I stepped into the kitchen. Mom was sitting alone at our wooden dining table, staring at an empty plate with tear-swollen eyes.
“Mom? What’s wrong?” I asked anxiously, hurrying over and kneeling beside her chair. “Is Dad sick again?”
Mom slowly shook her head, then wiped away a tear that had fallen onto her increasingly wrinkled cheek. “It’s not your dad, Ghan... It’s Ghea.”
“What happened to Ghea, Mom?”
“This afternoon... Aris’s mother came here,” Mom said in a trembling voice, sounding deeply hurt. “She said... they were calling off the engagement next month.”
Aris had been Ghea’s boyfriend for the past four years. They had already planned to get married the following year, and Ghea had started saving little by little to pay for their simple wedding.
“Calling it off? Why, Mom? Was Aris cheating?” I asked, feeling my anger begin to rise.
“Aris’s mother said... they changed their minds after learning about our family’s situation. They know your father is chronically ill and needs ongoing medical expenses. They’re afraid... that if Aris marries Ghea, he’ll have to help shoulder our family’s financial burden. She said they were looking for a daughter-in-law from a family of equal standing.” Mom covered her face and sobbed softly.
Equal standing. A polite way of saying, You’re too poor for us.
The word felt like a hard slap landing right across my face. Poverty didn’t just make it difficult for us to pay our debts. Now it was also stealing my older sister’s happiness after she had worked so hard all this time without ever complaining.
I got up and walked toward Ghea’s bedroom, whose door was firmly shut. I knocked once, very softly. “Ghea... it’s Ghani.”
There was no answer, only the muffled sound of sobbing from inside. I slowly opened the door. In the dim room, Ghea was sitting on the floor surrounded by a cardboard box filled with photos, letters, and gifts Aris had given her over these past four years.
Her face was red, and her eyes were swollen. The moment she saw me, she quickly tried to wipe away her tears, attempting to act tough as usual.
“Ghan, you’re home? Do you want to eat? I haven’t had a chance to cook—”
“Ghea, you don’t have to lie to me,” I interrupted gently, then sat down on the floor beside her.
Her defenses crumbled instantly. Ghea covered her face with both arms and burst into tears. Her shoulders shook violently.
“Ghan, what was I lacking?” she asked between heartbreaking sobs. “I work every day. I never asked for an expensive dowry. I never demanded anything unreasonable from Aris. Why are they being so cruel to us? Why are they using Dad’s illness as an excuse to throw me away?”
I couldn’t answer. All I could do was put my arm around my sister’s shoulders and let her pour out all the pain and humiliation she had been handed that afternoon. In my heart, I felt bitter. Our lives were truly being tested from every direction.
Amid the silence of the room, filled with Ghea’s sobs, the phone in my pants pocket vibrated.
Two new notifications appeared on the screen at the same time:
Message 1 (Unknown Number): “Tomorrow afternoon at four. We’ll be waiting for the remaining twenty-five million in front of the alley. Don’t even think about trying to avoid us, Ghani.”
Message 2 (Letta): “Ghani, Dad already reserved a VIP table at Sky Garden Restaurant for Sunday at seven p.m. The dress code is formal, okay? I can’t wait to introduce you to Dad!”
I stared blankly at the two messages in turn. Ghea had just been discarded by her boyfriend’s family because we were poor. And the day after tomorrow, I had to sit in a five-star restaurant dressed formally, trying to convince a tycoon that I was worthy of standing beside his only child.