The light in Mrs. Sinta's eyes suddenly dimmed with worry when her grandson's name was mentioned.
"Samudra has been physically rather weak since birth, Mila. He's running a high fever today, which is why we didn't bring him to the funeral earlier. It would be terrible if he were exposed to the outside air. He's in the special nursery, still on this floor, at the end of that hallway. Once his condition improves, you'll definitely be able to meet him."
Mrs. Sinta reassured Mila once again that she mustn't feel like a burden.
After giving her a warm smile, Mrs. Sinta left Mila alone so she could rest.
Mila placed her worn cloth bag on the soft bed.
She straightened out the few simple pieces of clothing she'd managed to bring before Mrs. Ratih and Anton kicked her out.
Remembering those names brought the pain back to her chest.
But the memory of Mr. Sony and Mrs. Sinta's warm smiles slowly covered that bitterness.
As Mila was folding her last piece of clothing, there was a soft knock on the bedroom door.
A friendly-looking, round-faced middle-aged woman appeared behind it.
"Excuse me, Ms. Mila. I'm Auntie Jumi. Lunch is ready downstairs. Mrs. Sinta asked me to bring you down to eat with them right away," she said with a sincere smile.
"Oh, yes, Auntie Jumi. Thank you. I'll come down right away," Mila replied politely.
A short while later, Mila awkwardly made her way to the large dining room downstairs.
Mr. Sony and Mrs. Sinta were already seated at the long dining table.
A tiny baby wrapped in a light-blue blanket lay in Mrs. Sinta's lap.
Baby Samudra.
Mila's eyes fixed on the little baby.
A warm flutter and an overwhelming stab of longing pierced her chest at once.
The baby reminded her of her own son, who had just been buried in the red earth.
Her heart trembled violently.
"Mila, come sit down," Mrs. Sinta called warmly.
"Look, this is Baby Samudra. He just woke up."
Mila approached hesitantly.
She lowered her head and gazed at Samudra's tiny face.
The baby's skin was slightly flushed, and his breathing sounded somewhat labored from the fever.
He had a very handsome face, inheriting Marcel's strong features, yet his eyes radiated an innocent softness.
"Hello, Samudra..." Mila whispered softly without realizing it.
Tears welled in her eyes, but she quickly blinked so they wouldn't fall.
Across the dining table, Marcel sat in oppressive silence.
He was busy staring at the plate in front of him, mechanically cutting his steak without a word.
He paid no attention to Mila's presence at all, not even sparing his own child a glance.
The grief and disappointment over the fate that had taken his wife had made Marcel wall himself off from emotional interaction, even with his own flesh and blood.
Suddenly, Baby Samudra began squirming restlessly in Mrs. Sinta's lap.
His tiny face scrunched up, and moments later, a piercing cry burst through the dining room.
"Oh, sweetheart... handsome boy, what's wrong, my child?" Mrs. Sinta tried to soothe Samudra, standing up and gently swaying her body.
But Samudra's crying only grew louder and more exhausted.
"Marcel, try holding your son for a moment. He might be missing his father," Mrs. Sinta called, trying to bridge the bond between father and son.
Marcel stopped mid-bite.
Reluctantly, with a heavy sigh, he rose from his chair and took Samudra's tiny body into his arms.
Because Marcel rarely held babies and his body was stiff with tension, Samudra only began crying more hysterically.
His cries rose to a shrill pitch, making his face even redder.
Marcel began to look panicked and helpless.
His movements grew increasingly stiff as he tried to rock the baby.
Seeing the situation, Mrs. Sinta couldn't bear to watch her grandson become more distressed and instinctively turned to Mila.
"Mila... could you hold Samudra for a moment? Please calm him down..."
Mila was somewhat startled by the request.
She glanced at Marcel, who stood frozen with a stiff expression.
Her buried maternal instincts couldn't refuse a baby's desperate cries.
"I can, ma'am..." Mila answered softly.
With an extraordinarily gentle, natural movement, Mila approached Marcel.
Without looking into the man's eyes, Mila took Samudra's tiny body from Marcel's rigid arms.
As soon as Samudra was transferred into Mila's embrace, she supported the baby's head with her warm arm.
She pressed Samudra's chest against her own and gently swayed her body while humming the lullaby she used to sing to her baby.
It was a miracle.
Within mere seconds, Samudra's hysterical crying gradually turned into soft whimpers.
The baby's previously ragged breathing began to steady.
His tiny head rested against Mila's chest, seeking warmth, until at last his damp eyes slowly closed.
Samudra fell fast asleep in Mila's arms.
Mrs. Sinta sighed in relief, her eyes shining with emotion.
"Look at that, Marcel... Mila calmed your son in mere seconds. She has an incredible maternal instinct."
Mr. Sony, who had been watching all along, also gave a faint smile.
"It seems Samudra has found comfort in Mila."
Marcel, standing right beside Mila, could only remain silent.
His gaze fixed on his son's face, now peacefully asleep against the woman's chest.
A strange feeling burned in his chest—a mixture of relief, pride, and resentment at having to admit that the woman whose husband had just dumped her had succeeded in doing what he couldn't do as a father.
Without uttering a word, Marcel turned and walked out of the dining room, taking the stairs to his bedroom at a hurried pace.
Mrs. Sinta watched her son's back with a long sigh.
"I'm sorry about Marcel's attitude, Mila. He's actually a loving man, but Carren's death truly changed him into a closed-off and stubborn man."
"I understand completely, ma'am," Mila replied sincerely, continuing to stroke Samudra's back.
"The pain of losing someone really can change anyone."