After three days of intensive care in the hospital's inpatient ward, Mom Tita's physical condition was finally declared stable by the team of neurologists. The doctors allowed Grandma to go home, on the condition that her anticonvulsant medication schedule and recovery therapy be followed with extra strictness.
Ayusari brought her mother home. But the trials of life for this little family seemed never to take a break. Ayusari's emergency savings had been significantly depleted to pay the remaining hospital expenses that weren't fully covered by basic health insurance.
As Ayusari busied herself reorganizing the monthly household budget, a new problem emerged with Putri. Her eldest daughter, now eighteen and in her second semester at a public university, had begun to show a change in behavior. Putri, who was usually cheerful and eager to discuss her college classes, had lately become very quiet and often stared blankly from the back porch.
One afternoon, while Putri was washing dishes in the kitchen, Ayusari went into Putri's room to collect the dirty clothes. As she tidied her eldest daughter's study desk, Ayusari's eyes accidentally fell on an official sheet of paper bearing the university's logo, lying half-folded beneath a notebook.
Ayusari picked up the paper and read it. It was a Notice of Payment for Outstanding Extra Laboratory Fees and Next Semester's Field Practicum Registration Fee. The amount listed was quite large, and the due date was only days away. At the bottom of the letter was a partially completed draft application for a "Temporary Academic Leave," filled out in Putri's handwriting.
Ayusari felt as though a blunt object had struck her chest. She stepped out of the room with the letter in hand and found Putri, who had just dried her hands with a dish towel in the kitchen.
"Putri..." Ayusari called, her voice gentle but trembling. She held the sheet of paper out in front of her daughter. "Why did you hide this from Mom? And what do you mean by this college leave application?"
Putri froze where she stood. The young girl's face instantly turned pale, and her eyes began to glisten with tears. She lowered her head deeply, holding back her sobs until they finally broke through.
"I'm sorry, Mom... I didn't mean to lie to you..." Putri whispered hoarsely. She approached her mother and clasped Ayusari's fingers. "I saw how worried you were about Grandma's hospital bills. Your savings are practically gone... I didn't want to add to your worries. That's why I thought... I want to take a year off from college, Mom. I want to find a part-time job to help you..."
Ayusari pulled her eldest daughter into a tight embrace. Ayusari's tears fell onto Putri's shoulder. Guilt and emotion churned in her chest as she saw how circumstances had forced her eldest daughter to grow up and worry about the family's financial burdens at such a young age.
"Listen to me, Putri... listen carefully," Ayusari said firmly, holding both of Putri's cheeks and looking straight into her daughter's eyes. "Right now, you have only one job: study, pursue your dreams, and finish college as well as you can. Don't ever think about sacrificing your education because of money problems."
"But the practicum fees are so expensive, Mom..." Putri sobbed.
"I'll find a way, honey. I still have the strength, and I still have the ability to take on extra design projects," Ayusari said, her voice radiating the unwavering determination of a mother. "As long as I'm still breathing and able to work, your education and Yasa's are my number-one priority. That is nonnegotiable."
That night, Ayusari sat at her work desk and reopened her portfolio draft to send to several architecture agencies. The events of that day strengthened Ayusari's conviction that for the sake of her children's future, she could not surrender to physical or mental exhaustion.