That night, the sky seemed to cry along with the sound of sobbing coming from a small room filled with the scent of milk and tears. The cries were not just from the two-month-old baby but also from the mother—Alya. Young Alya sat trembling in the corner of the room, hugging her knees tightly, her eyes swollen and empty.
Her hands were shaking...
In front of her, the baby's blanket was half lifted.
"Quiet... please, just be quiet... I just want to rest for a moment..." she whispered softly, almost like a broken chant.
The crying pierced Alya's head and stabbed into her chest, already full of invisible wounds. Deep wounds no one ever knew about. How could they? Her husband, Rangga, always came home late without ever asking how she was, even though they had just been blessed with a beautiful little baby. Moreover, her in-laws constantly blamed every little thing Alya did. Maybe even if she moved her index finger, it would be considered wrong. To make things worse, that day marked exactly two weeks since her own mother had been called to the Almighty.
That night, beneath the heavy burden she carried, a whisper came—soft but terrifying.
"Just give up... one last cry, and you will be peaceful forever..."
Alya turned quickly, but there was no one there. Only shadows on the wall growing darker.
Then the voice came again.
"She's just a burden to you... Look at your husband, he doesn't even care about you or your child, right? You're alone. Don't you deserve to live free and happy?"
A black shadow appeared from the dark corner of the room, eyes glowing red, wearing a poisonous smile.
Azazel.
Meanwhile,
Rangga sat alone in the office pantry, staring at a cup of cold instant coffee.
"Still here?" a calm voice sounded from the door.
Serafim entered carrying a work folder.
"Well, usual stuff. Revisions and more revisions that never end," Rangga replied flatly.
Serafim sat opposite Rangga, loosening the top button of his shirt and stirring his coffee.
They had been working together on the same team for a few months now. Not very close, but often discussing and sharing many things since Serafim was the team lead. Rangga thought Serafim was calm and meticulous, especially wise in every decision.
"Want a cigarette?" Rangga asked, offering a pack.
"No, I don't smoke," Serafim smiled lightly.
Rangga nodded and started talking about work. But for some reason, their conversation that night, which initially was only about work, grew longer than usual and covered many other things.
At one point, Rangga began to open up about his wife's behavior, which he felt had become 'strange' since their child was born.
"You know, honestly, I'm kinda reluctant to go home. My wife has been acting weird since the baby was born. She keeps crying, gets angry easily, even said she regrets having a child. Coming home doesn't feel joyful; it just makes things worse," Rangga confessed.
Serafim didn't respond immediately. He clasped his hands on the table and said just one thing.
"You better go home soon, Rangga. Look at your wife... just once more, but with your heart and a different perspective."
Rangga glanced at Serafim, puzzled.
"Why do you say that?"
Serafim smiled warmly.
"I don't know... I just feel like I should say it."
They finally decided to go home. Rangga drove quietly. That night was silent without the radio he usually played as company. His mind was empty, and for a moment he felt restless—not because of Serafim's words, but because of a strange feeling squeezing his chest. As if the whole house was calling him back.
When he arrived, the house was dark, with no lights on. The front door was unlocked. Rangga entered slowly, taking a deep breath.
"Alya...?" he called, hesitant.
No answer. The only sound was the fan in their room. He walked slowly toward their bedroom. When he pushed the door open, light from the hallway spilled in.
He saw Alya sitting on the floor, clutching a pillow and trying to cover her son Reyhan's face.
"ALYA!" Rangga shouted, brushing Alya's hands away and pushing her gently.
Alya's face was soaked with tears, her hair messy, her hands trembling. Still shocked, Rangga collapsed onto the floor and hugged his child tightly.
Alya continued sobbing with empty eyes, like someone drowning and forgetting how to breathe.
"I'm tired, Rangga..." Alya whispered, her voice stuck in her throat, "Everyone tells me to be a good mother, everyone expects me to be what they want, but no one asks if I can handle it... no one asks what I want..."
Rangga stayed silent, staring deeply at Alya. Her words hit him hard. He felt guilty for her fragile state. For the first time, he realized Alya had been alone all this time—fighting a life she should have shared with him. But he had been too caught up in her changing behavior, which was actually caused by his own neglect.
"I can't take it anymore, Rangga. Even my mother, who was my strength, left me alone... Your mother only calls to scold me and blame everything I do. And you... you're like someone just crashing here. I'm so exhausted. I just want it all to stop, Rangga..."
The room broke into tears as Reyhan began crying too. The air became suffocating—seeing not only Reyhan cry but Alya unable to stop her tears.
Rangga tried to stay calm despite his own chaos inside. He stood and took a deep breath. Slowly, he soothed Reyhan and laid him in the crib.
Then he turned to Alya. Rangga hugged her fragile body tightly and gently stroked her hair. In his embrace, Alya cried harder and harder.
"Forgive me... forgive me... From now on... don't keep it all inside, Ly," Rangga's voice was soft but firm. "I won't leave you again. I'll try to always be there for you. We'll build this home the way you want..."
Alya raised her face, looking at the tears streaming down Rangga's cheeks. Her trembling hand reached out to wipe his tears away, then she wrapped her arms around his neck and held him tight.
For the first time, Alya felt not alone. And for the first time, she felt her voice was heard.
Outside the window, Serafim watched quietly, making sure everything was okay.
Behind him, in the dim shadows, Azazel stood with a sinister smile.
"Wow... that was close. I almost succeeded in claiming two souls tonight."
Serafim didn't turn, but spoke softly.
"Maybe my strength can't match yours now. But as long as I'm here, I will protect the souls that are broken and lost, to rise and survive."
Azazel chuckled.
"Are you sure? Weren't you once one of them?"
"What do you mean?" Serafim asked, glancing at Azazel as he faded into the darkness.
After that night's incident, Rangga always divided his time carefully. He always came home at lunchtime, just to make sure Alya was doing okay. And he left exactly on time, no matter how much work he still had.
Days passed, and Rangga's attitude became a source of negative murmurs around the office and within his team. One of his team members didn't like it and reported him to the boss. As a result, Rangga was reprimanded and received a warning letter.
"Rangga, you really got a warning letter from the management?" Serafim asked.
"Yeah. I'm confused. Right now, I can't leave my wife alone for long. Besides, tomorrow I have to take her to see a psychologist," Rangga replied, holding his head.
"Don't worry... tomorrow you'll take your wife to the check-up..."
"And then the next day I get fired?"
"Relax, I'll step in..."
"Wow... thanks so much... You're the best."
Rangga smiled brightly after talking with Serafim. The next day, he took Alya to get her condition checked. The psychologist's diagnosis was acute postpartum depression worsened by deep grief from losing her mother.
On the way home, Alya remained silent. Rangga occasionally glanced at his wife and held her hand. He couldn't force Alya to talk much because he knew all he could do now was to just stay by her side.
That night, Serafim came to Rangga's house carrying a stack of documents.
"Come in, come in... I got a notice from the office. We can work on these reports at my place, right?" Rangga said, inviting Serafim to sit.
"Ahem... For now, you can go home on time. But you have to finish all these reports, okay?" Serafim replied with a smile.
"Of course, I won't trouble you. You've already put your reputation on the line with the boss to defend me, and I'm really grateful. Thanks..." Rangga said, looking at Serafim.
"Stop staring at me like that. I might fall in love with you again," Serafim joked, laughing.
From that day on, every night Serafim would drop by Rangga's house to work on reports together. With Serafim's help, Rangga was allowed to bring and finish all his work at home after office hours.
Rangga had just finished feeding Reyhan and putting him to sleep, then he sat beside Serafim.
"Tired, huh?" Serafim asked with a small smile.
Rangga chuckled quietly. "More tired holding myself back from blaming myself."
Serafim didn't answer immediately. He opened a bottle of mineral water and took a sip, then looked at Rangga.
"You don't have to be perfect. You just need to be enough. Enough to be present. Enough to care. That's more than enough for your wife."
Rangga lowered his head. Those words seemed to pierce deeply into his heart.
That night, Azazel stood in Alya's room. Invisible but clearly felt. Azazel tried to shake Alya's mind by giving her nightmares all night. Alya, tormented by the bad dreams, tossed and turned and broke into a cold sweat.
Serafim appeared calmly at the doorway.
"You can't protect everyone, Serafim," Azazel said. He continued, "Sooner or later... they will fall too."
Serafim looked at Alya who seemed restless in her sleep.
"Maybe. But if they fall... at least they know someone will help them rise again," Serafim replied while releasing a white light from his hands to soothe Alya.
Azazel vanished with a soft hiss. And that night, for the first time in a long while, Alya slept without nightmares.
That morning was bright, the sunlight warmly shining on Rangga's small home. Rangga, now the family's frontline, carried out his duties responsibly. He didn't hesitate to feed, change Reyhan's diapers, clean the house, even prepare and manage all kitchen affairs. Not only that, Rangga firmly supported Alya, who was always criticized by her mother.
Sometimes Alya quietly cried. Not out of sadness, but because of a warm feeling that was slowly building. Alya felt she was no longer alone.
That night, their home was quiet and peaceful. Rangga, walking toward the kitchen, found an envelope on the dining table. He looked to the right and left. He was sure no one was there, and that envelope hadn't been there before. But it was there—worn yet clean and glowing. The envelope was addressed to Alya.
"Ly... this is for you," Rangga said softly, handing her the letter.
Alya hesitated with the envelope but finally dared to open it.
For my child...
Sorry I can no longer be with you. I know behind the smile on my beloved child's lips, there is immense destruction. I am very sad for leaving you in such a state. But believe me, I will never completely leave you.
I asked for heavenly help to assist you, and they gladly fulfilled my wish. Now, I can see the smile from within your heart. And I feel at peace because you are no longer alone.
I hope you can feel this happiness forever.
With a distant embrace from your mother...
Alya's hand trembled as she read the letter. Tears broke free. The letter was written by her mother. Impossible. Yet real. After she put down the letter, it vanished among the light filling the room.
Rangga hugged Alya from behind without saying a word. They both began to understand the meaning of family. The meaning of home.
Outside the window, Serafim stood watching the small family with a faint smile on his face. But his eyes narrowed as a heaviness weighed on his chest.
A shadow of a woman he knew appeared—Misel. The glimpse was fleeting but enough to make Serafim freeze in place. He murmured softly,
"Why do I remember her..."
Then he walked slowly away to another place. Moments later, Serafim stood in front of an old modest house. He hadn't returned there for a long time.
The front door opened. A woman he knew stepped out, smiling quietly—Misel. Misel seemed to be carrying a bag, as if ready to leave.
Then from behind the door appeared a little girl.
Iris, Misel's daughter.
Serafim's body froze. His eyes widened because the child he saw when helping Rafel and Mona was Iris. Her face, her voice, even the way she turned her head, everything was the same.
Iris ran lightly to Misel and hugged her from the side. Serafim stood behind a tree, watching from a distance, then slowly disappeared with the wind.
***