In a remote village called Mawar Village, there lived a young man named Arya Wijaya with his grandmother who was almost 60 years old.
Arya Wijaya, but the whole village called him just Arya—his long name felt too heavy to convey every day.
However, Arya's life was never as beautiful as the name "Mawar" attached to their village. From childhood until now, when he is 19 years old and still in grade 12 of high school, he has lived with a simplicity that sometimes feels painful. His young hands were full of calluses from working hard every day to provide for himself and his grandmother.
Arya has never known the warmth of parental love. His father and mother died when he was only a month old. Only blurred images of grandmother's stories are the only memories of them. Since then, he has been raised by his grandmother, Imah. Grandma Imah's daughter, Aida, had to go to Jakarta to work as a household assistant, leaving her grandmother and grandchildren in the village.
That afternoon, the sun radiated intense heat that made the ground flutter and the air felt heavy. But for Arya, the heat wasn't an obstacle—she was just thinking about how many vegetables she could harvest from Juragan Untung's land, because every bunch of vegetables meant food for her and her grandmother for the next few days.
His body was thin, but every muscle was taut with the strength built up from years of hard work. His skin was tanned from frequent exposure to the sun, and his otherwise handsome face was covered in a layer of dust and sweat—he never had the time or money to take care of himself.
"Ar, just rest for now, son... it's so hot, your body won't be able to stand it," said Grandma Imah in a soft but worried voice. His wrinkled hand stretched out to touch Arya's shoulder, but immediately pulled it back because he was worried that the dirt from his hand would stain his grandson's clothes.
Arya shook her head slowly, her eyes remaining focused on her hands which were pulling spinach from the ground. "Don't worry, Grandma... just a little more. If we finish quickly, the results will be more, right?" Her voice sounded firm, but behind it was hidden deep affection—she couldn't watch her grandmother work alone while continuing to feel guilty.
Two hours later, they finally finished the job. Piles of fresh vegetables such as spinach, cabbage and long beans are piled up on woven bamboo. Grandma Imah wiped the sweat dripping from her forehead, her eyes looking at the results of her work with a mixture of relief and sadness.
"That's not bad, sir... enough for us to eat for a few more days, maybe we can also sell a small portion to buy your notebook," he said, but his voice was a little shaky. He looked at Arya with eyes that were starting to fill with tears.
"Thank God, grandma... the important thing is that we don't starve. I'm happy enough to be able to help grandma," answered Arya with a smile. But behind that smile, his heart felt tight—he knew exactly what his grandmother was thinking.
"I'm sorry grandma, granddaughter... You should be at school studying, or playing with your friends like other children your age. But you have to be stuck here, working like an adult just to be able to eat every day..." The words came out heavily from Grandma Imah's lips, her tears finally couldn't be held back any longer and dripped down her wrinkled cheeks.
Arya immediately came closer and hugged her grandmother's shoulders gently. Her body shivered slightly because of the emotions that flooded her heart—love, feeling helpless, and a little anger at the fate that made them have to live like this. "It's okay, Grandma! Don't say that. Grandma is everything to me. Without grandma, I wouldn't exist in this world. Working while going to school is not a burden—in fact, I'm proud to be able to support grandma," he said in a voice that was a little shaky, but full of confidence.
Grandma Imah could only nod and wipe her tears, a warm smile finally appeared on her face even though there was still sadness in it.
"Grandma, just go home first. I'm the one who brought all the vegetables to Juragan Untung's house. The road is far and hot, I'm afraid grandma won't be able to stand it," said Arya as she started arranging the load of vegetables on her shoulders. He wanted his grandmother to immediately rest in a shady house.
Arya carried a fairly heavy load of vegetables, walking along the path in the middle of the vast rice fields. The heat of the sun made him feel a little dizzy, but he continued diligently. After walking for a while, he finally arrived at the courtyard of Juragan Untung's big house.
"Assalamualaikum, ma'am..." he said politely, bowing his head.
"Walaikumsalam, Arya," answered a woman who appeared from inside the house—Juragan Untung's wife, Mrs. Erni. He is almost 40 years old, but his body is still sturdy and his skin is pure white.
Arya was a little surprised and her eyes inadvertently widened when she saw that Mrs. Erni was only wearing a thin negligee that stuck to her body due to sweat. He inadvertently froze—embarrassment and something he couldn't clearly explain rose in his heart. His heart was beating fast, as if it wanted to burst out of his chest.
"Arya... what do you need?" said Mrs. Erni in a calm voice but narrowed her eyes slightly, as if she felt Arya's unusual gaze.
Arya immediately lowered her head lower, her face burning red with embarrassment and anxiety. "Sorry... sorry ma'am... I just wanted to deliver the vegetables from the harvest to the boss," he said in a halting voice, his hand which was holding the vegetable load rope shaking slightly.
In his heart, he felt extremely uncomfortable and guilty. He knew that looking at other people in that way was inappropriate, especially Mrs. Erni, who was like a parent to him. But at the same time, there was a feeling that he couldn't understand—as if something was piercing his heart and making it difficult for him to breathe.
"Just keep it there, Ar. I'll tell your father later," said Mrs. Erni, pointing towards the small warehouse behind the house. His voice was flat, but there was no anger in it.
Arya didn't dare answer again. He immediately moved to the designated place, placing the load of vegetables carefully while trying not to look at Mrs. Erni again. When he was finished, he turned back to face her with his head still bowed.
"I'll go home first, ma'am... thank you," he said politely.
"Okay... thank you for bringing it, Arya," answered Mrs. Erni in a tone that had returned to warmth.
Arya immediately walked away from the house, her steps hurried as if she wanted to escape. When he was far away, he felt his chest feel a little relieved, but his face was still hot and his heart was still beating fast. In his head, the figure of Mrs. Erni still kept appearing—and he felt very confused about his own feelings. He smiled unconsciously, but soon realized that the smile looked like a madman. Guilt and confusion overtook him, making him barely able to focus on the long walk home.