5:20 a.m. Western Indonesian Time.
Lana was already awake before her alarm went off. She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the floor. She had gone to sleep fairly late the night before, but somehow her body had grown used to waking up without having fully recovered. From outside her room, she heard her mom's voice. “Lana, are you awake?” “I am, Mom.” “When you leave later, don't forget to take your siblings first.” “Okay.” The answer came out automatically. Briefly. Almost without thought. Lana stood and began getting ready. That was how mornings went in her house. There were no long conversations. No stories about the previous night's dreams. No one asked how she felt. Everyone was simply busy with what needed to be done. And Lana... had long been used to being part of that busyness.
Once she was ready, Lana left her room. Her younger siblings were already starting to wake up. One was busy looking for a uniform. Another was complaining because they couldn't find their book. Small voices filled the house. “Sis, have you seen my book?” “On the table.” “Which one?” “Try looking first.” “Sis, you'll take me later, right?” Lana nodded. “Yeah.” She helped as much as she could. There was nothing unusual about it. No major arguments. No obvious problems. If someone looked at that house from the outside, they might assume everything was fine. And really... nothing was truly wrong. It was just that something was slowly disappearing. Warmth.
Lana sat at the dining table. Her mom placed a simple breakfast in front of her. “Eat first.” “Okay, Mom.” Lana began to eat. Several minutes passed. No one spoke. The television was on in the living room. Her younger siblings were busy with their own things. Lana stared at the dining table. Once, she had imagined home as a place someone could return to after being exhausted all day. A place to tell stories. A place to complain. A place where someone didn't have to pretend to be strong. But the older she got... the more Lana felt that home had become nothing more than a place to return to sleep before facing the next day. She didn't blame anyone. Her father worked. Her mom took care of the house. Her younger siblings had lives of their own. Everyone was tired, too. Maybe that was simply what life was like. Everyone was busy surviving their own wounds.
6:10 a.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana was about to leave. Before she stepped out of the house, her mom called her. “Lan.” Lana turned around. “Yes, Mom?” “When you get paid this month...” Her mom paused for a moment. “Could you help with the household expenses first?” Lana was silent. Only for a few seconds. Then she nodded. “Yes, Mom.” She smiled. She didn't ask how much. She didn't ask why. She didn't say that she had a lot of expenses this month, too. She didn't say that her savings were almost gone. She only said: “Yes.” Then she left the house. The door closed behind her. Lana walked toward her vehicle. Before starting the engine, she sat there for a moment. Both hands gripped the handlebars. Her gaze was empty. She drew a deep breath. There was something she wanted to say. She didn't know to whom. Maybe to her mom. Maybe to her father. Maybe to herself. But in the end, not a single word came out.
Work went as usual that day. Lana worked. Finished her tasks. Helped her coworkers. Answered messages. Then went back to work. When lunchtime came, she sat alone. A friend came over to her. “Lan, you look tired lately.” Lana gave a small laugh. “Same old.” “Seriously?” “Yeah.” “If something's wrong, you can tell me.” Lana looked at her friend. For a moment, she almost answered. “I'm actually tired.” But the words caught in her throat again. She smiled. “If anything comes up, I'll tell you later.” Her friend nodded and left. Lana was alone again. She stared at the food in front of her. Suddenly, she remembered something. When had she started saying it all the time? “Later.” Later, when she was finished. Later, when things were calm. Later, when things got better. Later, when she had time. But maybe... that time was never going to come.
7:30 p.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana came home. As soon as she opened the front door, she heard her father and mom in the living room. They were talking about the family's needs. Neither of their voices was raised. They weren't arguing. It was just an ordinary conversation. But something made Lana stop near the door. Her father said, “We have to cut back again this month.” Her mom replied, “Yeah. We'll ask Lana to help a little, too.” Lana lowered her head. She wasn't angry. She wasn't disappointed, either. She only felt... tired. Not because they were asking her to help. But because it seemed as though everyone already knew that whenever things got difficult, Lana would be one of the people they turned to. She entered the living room. “Dad.” Her father turned around. “Oh, Lana's home.” “Yeah.” “Have you eaten?” “Not yet.” “Then go eat first.” Lana nodded. The conversation was over. Just like that.
The night grew later. Her younger siblings were already asleep. Her mom had gone to her room, too. Her father was still watching television. Lana was in her room. The door was closed. She sat on the floor, leaning against the side of her bed. Her phone was in her hand. She opened her gallery. There were several old photos. One of them was a family photo. Lana stared at it for a long time. Everyone was smiling. She was smiling there, too. But for some reason, looking at the photo made her chest feel tight. Not because her family was bad. But because she loved them. Loved them too much. So much that sometimes she forgot she was part of that family, too. And that she deserved to be cared for, too. Lana locked her phone. Took a breath. Then lay down. Her eyes stared at the ceiling. “Am I selfish if someday I want to think about myself?” The question surfaced on its own. She immediately felt guilty for even thinking it. “Never mind.” Lana closed her eyes. But that night, her thoughts refused to be still. About her family. About money. About the future. About how she was growing older without knowing when life would start to feel lighter. She opened her eyes again. She picked up her phone. Her fingers opened social media. One post after another appeared. People her age seemed to be enjoying life. Some went out with friends. Some bought things they liked. Some talked about wedding plans. Some already owned homes. Lana smiled as she looked at it all. Then she turned off the screen. It wasn't jealousy. She was just wondering. “When will it be my turn?”
11:48 p.m. Western Indonesian Time. Lana still hadn't gone to sleep. She sat on the edge of her bed. Her phone was in her hand again. For some reason, she thought of the app she had downloaded yesterday. RandomChat. She opened the app. The screen displayed several options. Lana read the instructions. No real name required. No need to provide too much information. Just talk to a stranger. She gave a small smile. “Maybe this could be fun.” Her finger was almost about to press the button to start. But she stopped. She hesitated. What if the person was weird? What if the conversation made her uncomfortable? What if... Lana didn't know. She was simply too tired to think. In the end, she pressed the button. Searching for someone... The screen began to spin. Lana waited. A few seconds. Ten seconds. Then the words appeared: Stranger found. Lana stared at the screen. Her finger rested motionless above the phone. She didn't know who was on the other side of the screen. She didn't know their name. She didn't know their face. She didn't know their voice. She didn't know that the stranger was carrying different wounds, too. Lana took a breath. Then typed one word. “Hi.” Somewhere else... a phone lit up. Luna, who had just been about to go to sleep, saw a notification. She opened her eyes. Reached for her phone. Read a message from someone she didn't know. “Hi.” Luna stared at the screen. Her finger stopped for a moment. Then... she typed a reply. “Hi there.” And without realizing it... their first conversation finally began. —To be continued—