chapter 4
1436 Words
The hospital room that morning was wrapped in a silence sharper than usual. Dr. Marcell, a senior neurology specialist from a renowned private hospital in Jakarta, was speaking seriously with Aruna’s and Raka’s families in the consultation room.
Aruna had been conscious for almost 24 hours. But every attempt—showing photos, old belongings, or even the names of people once close to her—failed to bring back her memories. Especially memories of Raka—her husband.
“There are several types of amnesia,” Dr. Marcell explained as he pulled up a brain scan on his tablet. “And based on Aruna’s symptoms, we suspect retrograde amnesia—loss of long-term memory that occurred before the accident.”
“Does that mean… she completely forgets everything about her past?” Aruna’s mother asked softly, tears still staining her cheeks.
“Not entirely. Retrograde amnesia can be classified into two major types: global and temporary. In Aruna’s case, we believe it to be focal retrograde amnesia, where the memory loss focuses on specific moments or certain people in her life. She still remembers her job, her hobbies, even her old coworkers, but…” Dr. Marcell took a breath. “…not her marriage. Not her husband.”
Raka’s father clenched his hands on his lap. “But she looks healthy… She talks normally, laughs, responds logically.”
“That’s normal. Her cognitive abilities are intact. Her memory is like a large book—its pages are torn only in a specific section: the part that contains her life with Raka.”
Silence filled the room again. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the screen, on the brain image they didn’t quite understand, yet felt was now determining the direction of their lives.
Raka’s mother closed her eyes. “And we have to tell Raka?”
“Immediately,” Aruna’s father whispered. “He can’t hear it from someone else. He has to know… that his wife is awake, but no longer recognizes him.”
---
Kalimantan – Construction Project
The sky glowed a dusty gold as the roar of heavy machinery thundered in the distance. Dust swirled, coating the work uniforms of technicians and foremen checking the steel bridge foundation that would connect the two riverbanks.
Among them stood a tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a white helmet labeled “CEO – Raka Mahendra”.
But his eyes were not as sharp as usual. He kept to himself, responding to technical reports with brief nods. Every now and then, he glanced at his phone as if waiting for something. He was restless—like a part of him was being pulled elsewhere.
When he stepped back into the project management container, his phone vibrated. A call from his mother.
Raka answered immediately.
“Hello, Ma? What is it?”
Her voice trembled. “Son… Aruna has woken up.”
His world froze.
Raka shot to his feet, the metal chair screeching behind him. “What? When? How—”
“But, Son… listen first.” Her voice cracked. “She’s awake. But she forgot.”
“Forgot?” Raka whispered, barely audible.
“She… doesn’t remember you. She doesn’t know who you are. She thinks she’s still single, never married, never in love. Everything about you… is gone.”
Raka was silent. His breath caught. His body stiffened. The soft clink of his phone as he set it on the table echoed in the small room. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t ask anything more.
Sounds from outside the container faded, replaced by echoes of memories that suddenly felt distant and unfamiliar. Aruna’s laughter, her soft gaze, her complaints when he worked too much—they spun in his mind like a torn black-and-white film.
He wanted to be angry. At whom? He didn’t know.
He wanted to go home. But he was afraid.
Nothing hurt more than knowing the person you love doesn’t remember you at all.
Raka stood frozen, unsure which direction to take. Unsure if his heart was strong enough to face reality.
Suddenly, the container door burst open. A project assistant rushed in with a tablet.
“Sir, sorry to interrupt, but you need to see this. There’s a major issue with the local contractor. They’ve withdrawn. We’re at risk of failing the bridge deadline.”
Raka stared blankly. Two worlds clashed in his mind: the world where he was a CEO with massive responsibilities… and the world where he was a husband who just lost his wife—not physically, but in her memory.
---
❤️❤️❤️
The Kalimantan morning still held thin traces of dew, but inside Raka’s chest, everything felt dry. He stood on the steps of the main container used as the project’s control post. His eyes swept across the messy work area—steel beams, cement stacks, and heavy machinery humming like an endless metallic orchestra.
Below him, workers began arriving. Those faces weren’t just employees. They were fathers. Providers. Men whose families depended on this project to keep their kitchens warm.
Raka stared at them for a long moment, remembering his mother’s words.
> “She… doesn’t remember you. She doesn’t know who you are.”
His hands clenched. There was pain, but also a heavy sense of responsibility he could not ignore.
As a husband, he wanted to go home. To sit beside Aruna’s bed and whisper their story, hoping her memories would return piece by piece.
But as a CEO, he knew—if this project failed, hundreds would lose their jobs. Their children would lose school fees. Their wives might have to borrow money just to buy rice next month.
And Raka couldn’t allow that. Not only because of his reputation, but because he knew: Aruna would never want him to abandon his duty. She always supported him, even when he was too busy to notice.
With a heavy heart, he stepped into the mini-meeting room. His assistant and two field managers were waiting. On the table lay reports of equipment failure, schedule shifts, and the local contractor’s withdrawal letter.
“Mr. Raka,” Adwin, the head of engineering, spoke worriedly. “We need a new steel vendor within three days, or the bridge structure won’t be completed.”
Raka sat down slowly, rubbing his tired face.
“Call all alternative vendors. Ask for structural simulations and price proposals today. We settle this now.” His voice was flat, but firm.
The assistant scribbled quickly. “So… you’re staying on site to lead the project?”
Raka nodded. “Yes. Until the main structure is finished. After that, I’ll go to Jakarta.”
Silence hung in the room before Adwin nodded resolutely. “Understood, sir.”
Outside the glass window, the sun was rising. But Raka’s heart remained stormy. He knew this decision would hurt—not just himself, but Aruna too, if her memories someday returned and she learned he wasn’t there when she woke up.
But for Raka, this wasn’t just about the project. It was about responsibility. About saving many “households,” even when his own was falling apart.
---
❤️❤️❤️
Jakarta – Hospital
Elsewhere in the city, Aruna stared out her hospital window. Her hair had been neatly brushed by a nurse. She wore a soft pastel-blue hoodie her mother brought.
“Auntie, can I borrow a phone?” she asked quietly.
Raka’s mother forced a smile. “Who do you want to call, Dear?”
Aruna winced slightly. “I’m not sure. Feels like something’s missing from my life, but… I don’t know what.”
Her mother-in-law’s heart dropped. She glanced at the doctor behind the door, who shook his head.
Not yet.
Not now.
---
❤️❤️❤️
That night, Raka sat alone at the edge of the project’s pier. The sea was calm. The wind gentle. But his mind was a storm.
He opened his gallery. Played the last video of Aruna—laughing in their kitchen as she whisked eggs in a silly way.
Suddenly, a notification popped up.
A message from Adwin:
“Sir, we received a report… Aruna has begun asking about herself. She suspects something is being hidden from her. The doctor is requesting your immediate return…”
Raka gripped his phone tightly.
Between the heart that longed to go home,
and the vow he made to the hundreds of families depending on t
his project.
He stared out at the sea and asked himself:
If the person you love doesn’t remember you, do you still have a reason to hold on…?
- Writer
