In a small village filled with the scent of flowers and warm smiles, lived a teenager named Fajar. He grew up in a simple family, carrying sadness that he often kept to himself.
Fajar's life journey was not like that of most teenagers. It was full of regret, fleeting happiness, recurring sorrow, and words that quietly changed everything.
In a village crowded with troublemakers, Fajar sat staring at his phone screen, thinking about his life that felt meaningless.
"Jar, buy a gallon of water from the shop, okay?" his mother said gently.
"Yes, Mom," Fajar replied as he took the five-thousand-rupiah bill.
That night, Fajar headed to Nando's shop.
"Sir, one gallon, please," he said.
"Alright. Just take it from the side," Pak Nando replied.
Fajar handed over the money, received the gallon tissue, and carried the gallon home.
"It's done, Mom," he said as he placed the gallon down.
"Where did you put the tissue?"
"Just on the table."
"Okay."
Fajar lay down on the carpet. He opened WhatsApp and saw his friends' lives, which seemed far easier than his own.
"Why is it that whatever they ask for, they always get?" he murmured.
He played a game to distract himself, but it only made him more irritated. Feeling useless, he decided to go out.
"Mom, I'm going out for a bit."
"Okay. Don't come home late."
At the hangout spot, Fajar smiled and greeted them.
"Assalamualaikum."
No one answered. He stepped closer.
"Hey, at least reply to my greeting."
"Waalaikumsalam," they answered quietly.
Fajar felt like a stranger among them.
"Why do they look like they don't want me here?" he thought.
He tried to start a conversation.
"Cup, are you going to the upper area later?"
"No. I'm going home. I work tomorrow."
Fajar stood up and walked away. From a distance, he heard laughter. He turned back.
"Who was it that shouted when I left?"
No one answered.
"Only brave behind my back. Cowards."
He left with his fists clenched.
Back at home, Fajar lay down, staring at the ceiling.
"Why don't they like me?"
The night grew late. He went upstairs, lit a cigarette.
"This is the only thing that understands me."
The clock showed 1:32 a.m. Fajar went downstairs and quietly entered the house.
In the morning, the alarm rang. His mother woke up to pray at dawn and woke the family.
"Jar, wake up. It's Subuh."
After praying, Fajar went back to sleep.
"Jar, wake up. You said you wanted to go jogging," his father said.
"It's okay, Dad. He looks tired," his mother said.
"Alright then. I'll go alone."
His father jogged around the village and returned, his body exhausted.
"Here's your coffee," his mother said.
"Put it there."
"I'm going to Auntie's to buy vegetables."
"Take some money there. Buy fish too."
At Auntie's shop, his mother did the shopping.
"Auntie, one fish."
"Here you go."
"How much?"
"Two hundred and thirty thousand."
His mother paid, then asked softly,
"How much is my total debt, Auntie?"
"One million two hundred."
His mother fell silent.
"How could it be that much, Auntie?"
"It's correct."
She took a deep breath.
"Alright, it's okay."
She went home carrying the groceries—and a heavy mind.