Naufal Hasbi had just arrived in the house yard after coming home from school. The seventeen-year-old's face was bright with happiness. His stomach was already growling, especially at the thought of the delicious aroma of his beloved mother's cooking. He quickly got off his motorcycle and walked into the house.
"Mom," he called as he opened the door.
There was no answer. The house was eerily quiet. He spotted a two-year-old boy sitting on the floor, playing with a toy car. The boy's name was Akhzam Hasbi, Naufal's youngest little brother, who was fifteen years younger than him. A cartoon was playing on the TV in front of Azam, as he was usually called. So absorbed in playing with the car, Azam didn't notice his older brother coming home at all.
"Mom."
Naufal headed toward the kitchen. Maybe his mother was preparing lunch for them. But she wasn't there.
"Mom!"
This time, Naufal called out louder. He walked toward the bedroom at the front of the house and knocked on the door while calling again.
"Mom!"
Naufal opened the bedroom door. He stopped short. Adelia Rani, the thirty-nine-year-old woman, was sitting beside the bed. In her hands were two savings passbooks and two sheets of paper.
"Mom," Naufal called.
Adelia turned toward him.
"You're home?"
"What's wrong, Mom?"
Adelia was silent for a moment before finally speaking.
"Take your little brother to lunch, okay? I don't feel well."
"Mom," he whispered, walking over and sitting beside Adelia.
Only then did he notice that his mother's eyes were swollen. A faint smile, looking more like an attempt to hold back tears, curved her lips.
"What's wrong, Mom?" Naufal repeated.
For some reason, he felt that something was wrong. The warmth he had felt earlier had vanished, replaced by a suffocating anxiety.
Adelia handed Naufal the papers, which turned out to be a bank statement, along with the two savings passbooks. Her hands were shaking violently.
"Look at this, son," she said, her voice breaking between sobs.
Naufal accepted the sheets of paper and the two savings passbooks his mother held out to him. He opened one of the passbooks.
"This morning, I went to the ATM to withdraw some money. Not much—only two hundred thousand rupiah. But I couldn't. The screen said there wasn't enough balance. I thought the machine had malfunctioned. It felt strange, so I checked, and there was only a hundred thousand rupiah left in the account. I rushed home to get the savings passbook. I had a bad feeling. I called your dad, but his cell phone was turned off. I went straight to the bank and asked them to print the passbook. Sure enough, there had been several large withdrawals. I still couldn't believe it, so I asked the bank to print the bank statement. And sure enough, there had been several withdrawals."
"Dad took it?" Naufal guessed.
"I don't know. Your dad's cell phone has been turned off all morning."
"What's even more painful is that when I tried to print your education savings passbook, I found that it had been completely drained too."
Naufal's face flushed, anger burning in his eyes.
"Mom!" Azam called from outside, followed by the sound of him appearing in the doorway. "There's someone outside."
"I'll go see, Mom. You stay here."
Naufal walked out and headed for the living room.
He opened the door. Two men were standing outside.
"Good afternoon," one of them greeted him.
"Good afternoon. Sorry, who are you two?"
"I'm Amril Anwar, the owner of this house."
The bespectacled man introduced himself.
"This house? What do you mean?" Naufal asked.
"Two weeks ago, I finalized the purchase of this house. I planned to renovate it today so my daughter could move in next month. I was surprised to find people still living here. According to our agreement, the house should have been empty since last week, when Fatar Hasbi handed over the keys."
"What? But this house isn't for sale, sir."
"How could it not be? All the paperwork was completed. Even Fatar's wife signed it. Fatar was in serious financial trouble. We used to work for the same company, so I wanted to help him out."
"Mom agreed to this? Have you met my mother?"
"Fatar said his wife had stage-four brain cancer and couldn't come. When I came here two weeks ago to look at the condition of the house, it was practically empty. He said his wife was being treated in her hometown."
Naufal was stunned. He suddenly remembered what had happened two weeks earlier. That day, Fatar Hasbi, his father, had come home from work and announced that he had a surprise for everyone. Fatar showed them tickets for a vacation to Malaysia, with their flight leaving the next morning. Naufal and Akhzam had been thrilled at the thought of spending the weekend in that neighboring country. They were supposed to leave on the first flight the next day. But on the day of departure, his father received an important phone call about a problem at work that prevented him from traveling with Naufal, Akhzam, and their mother.
Naufal clenched his fists. This was the answer to everything that had happened that day. Fatar hadn't had a problem at work. He had deliberately planned to get Adelia and the children out of the house so he could bring the prospective buyer over to see the property in person without his wife knowing. He had even intended to forge Adelia's signature.
"Mom isn't sick. She never agreed to sell this house, and she never signed anything," Naufal said.
"What do you mean?"
"Did my dad receive all the money, Uncle?" Naufal asked.
"Yes. I gave him the down payment that same day, after I came to see the house. A few days later, the payment was completed in front of a notary."
"What's going on?" Adelia asked as she came out of the bedroom and walked toward Naufal. "Who came?"
Amril looked at Adelia.
"Adelia? Fatar's wife?"
"Yes. And you are?"
"I'm the one who bought this house from Fatar. I'm Amril, Fatar's friend from when we worked in public relations at a paper mill. We've met twice at events held by the company."
"Bought it?"
"Uncle Amril says Dad sold this house," Naufal explained carefully.
Adelia froze at her eldest son's words. She hurried out of the living room and returned to the bedroom. She opened the wardrobe and took out the key to a drawer, which she kept in a small box. With trembling hands, she unlocked the drawer. It usually held several files. She looked through the folders one by one. It was true. She couldn't find the house certificate anywhere inside.
Adelia felt as though her world had collapsed. After losing all the money in her accounts, she now had to face the reality that she had lost the house certificate too.
She felt as though she had no tears left to shed. Adelia left the bedroom.
In the living room, Naufal was engaged in a serious conversation with Amril. They both stopped talking when Adelia approached.
"Could you give us some time to move out of this house?" Adelia asked.
Amril looked at Naufal, then turned his gaze to Adelia.
"I heard the story from Naufal. You can stay here until you find a new place. I'll help you get in touch with Fatar."
Adelia was unable to speak.
"Thank you, Uncle," Naufal said on his mother's behalf.
Amril stood up.
"I'll be going now. You can reach me at the number I gave you earlier."
"Okay."
"I'll be going, Del. Stay strong."
"Thank you," Adelia said.
Amril patted Naufal on the shoulder.
"Take good care of your mother," he said before leaving the house.
Naufal waited until the car carrying Amril and the man accompanying him disappeared from view. He went back inside and closed the door. Adelia was no longer in the living room.
Naufal clenched his fists when he saw their family photo on the wall. He stared at Fatar's face, his anger boiling over.
"One day, you'll have to explain how you could do something this cruel to Mom!"