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Jakarta, 2022.
“If I ever have a child,” Brian once said, “I want my first to be a daughter.”
The name Maya was no longer one he wished to hear. Not because of resentment, but because it summoned a weight of guilt he had never learned how to carry. She had been his greatest supporter, the second woman he loved the most after his mom, and the woman who never came home to him.
That year was the busiest of Brian’s life. In many ways, it was also his best. Opportunities appeared at every turn, offering him ways to stay occupied, filling his days and giving him reason to believe he was moving forward. Architecture no longer held its former appeal. Too many memories from those years remained unresolved, too many disappointments bound to that chapter of his life. Instead, he poured his energy into more personal ambition, building an advertising agency of his own. Started from a small step, when Maya was always the first to hear his ideas, the first to listen, the first to believe.
He remembered that morning clearly. He was reading a message from Maya, expecting her to arrive at his office later that day. He waited. She never came.
“I’m sorry for your loss, Brian. May they rest in peace.”
“They?” he asked.
“Yes, your girlfriend and your daughter.”
In the silence that followed, he felt something close within him. His throat tightened. Some losses don’t demand an immediate response. They settle quietly, reshaping everything that comes after.