Haikal often daydreamed.
Not in the way someone might while waiting for the rain to stop or remembering something pleasant. His gaze could come to rest on a financial report, his phone screen, or the two-story window in his office, as if some part of him had been left somewhere else.
That morning, part of him had gone too far away again.
In front of him, three directors were discussing the acquisition of a technology company from Singapore. Growth charts filled the large screen. The figures climbed, green filled most of the tables, and everyone in the room was waiting for Haikal's decision.
But Haikal wasn't looking at it.
He was staring at his own reflection on the glass tabletop.
His face looked paler than usual. Faint shadows lingered beneath his eyes, not entirely concealed by his busy schedule. His right hand rested near a cup of coffee that had long since gone cold, while his index finger moved slowly once, then stopped.
“Mr. Haikal?”
His secretary's voice pulled him back.
Haikal lifted his face. His gaze was immediately clear, calm, and unreadable—as if he hadn't been somewhere far from the room just seconds before.
“Yes?”
“We're waiting for your decision regarding the final offer.”
Haikal glanced at the screen. He needed less than five seconds to understand all the figures that had been explained since the meeting began.
“Lower the valuation by three percent. No more than that. If they refuse, end the acquisition process and find another company with similar technology.”
One of the directors frowned. “But, sir, that company has access to—”
“Not enough to offset their debt and dependence on a single investor.” Haikal leaned back. “We don't buy problems just because they're packaged as growth.”
The room fell silent again.
The decision sounded simple. Like everything that came out of Haikal's mouth.
Not yet thirty, Haikala Widjaja was the second-richest person in the world, the primary heir to the Widjaja family, and a leader whose name alone was enough to make a company change its strategy overnight. In addition to controlling most of his family's business empire, he also served as president of Widjaja University.
To many people, Haikal's life appeared to leave no room for failure.
They didn't know that for the past several weeks, he had been forgetting more and more often when he had last finished a meal.
The meeting continued for another twenty minutes. Haikal answered every question precisely, gave instructions without raising his voice, then ended the meeting with a small nod.
As soon as the door closed, the spacious room suddenly felt too quiet.
Haikal exhaled. He pressed two fingers to his temple, waiting for the throbbing in his head to subside. His phone screen lit up.
One message from Aruna.
Aruna: Don't forget to come to the Arunika event this afternoon.
Haikal read the message once. Then twice.
No term of endearment. No question about whether he'd eaten. Just a brief reminder, like a message sent to someone responsible for a schedule, not to a husband.
He typed a reply anyway.
Haikal: I'll be there.
Before he could press send, another message appeared beneath it.
Aruna: If you can, don't be late. Arunika is waiting for you.
Haikal stared at the sentence longer than he should have.
Arunika was waiting for him.
At least his little daughter was still waiting.
He finally sent the reply, then opened the bottom drawer. From inside, he took out a small, unlabeled medicine bottle. Two capsules fell into his palm. Haikal swallowed them without water, then closed the drawer as if nothing had happened.
By the time someone knocked on the door, he was sitting upright again.
Naren walked in without waiting for permission.
“Meeting over?” his younger brother asked.
“Yes.”
“You look like someone who just lost a war.”
“The Singapore company rejected the three percent.”
Naren stopped in front of the desk. “I'm talking about your face.”
Haikal picked up the file on the left side of the desk. “I'm thinking about the company.”
“You're always thinking about the company.”
“It's my job.”
“And the daydreaming?”
Haikal turned slowly. “I wasn't daydreaming.”
Naren gave a short laugh, but there was nothing amused about it. He had known his brother too long to believe that answer. Ever since they were children, Haikal had always used work as an escape route. When their parents died, he talked about stocks. When Naren had a fever, he discussed the doctor's schedule. When Tirta asked whether he was afraid to take over the company, Haikal answered with a risk report.
It was the same now.
“I watched you sit there in silence during the meeting,” Naren said. “For five full minutes.”
“Checking the projections.”
“While staring at the table?”
“The table's expensive. It has a good reflective surface.”
Naren stared at him for a long time. Haikal returned the look with a blank expression until Naren finally sighed.
“At least eat lunch.”
“I will.”
“When?”
“After this.”
“‘After this’ could mean tonight.”
Haikal opened the file. “Naren.”
One word. Calm, but enough to end the conversation.
Naren didn't leave. His eyes dropped to Haikal's hand gripping the pen. There was a slight tremor in it. Almost imperceptible, but Naren saw it.
“If there's a problem, tell me,” he said more quietly.
Haikal didn't answer right away.
Outside the window, the grounds of Widjaja University looked alive. Students walked in groups; some laughed, others ran to catch their classes. Sunlight reflected off the long pool in the middle of the garden, making everything look clean and whole.
Haikal watched them.
“There is no problem,” he said at last. “I'm just thinking about the company.”
The same answer.
Naren knew it wasn't an answer. But he also knew Haikal wouldn't give him anything else.
Haikal's phone vibrated again.
This time, it was a call from Aruna.
The name changed his expression so slightly that someone else might not have noticed. But Naren did. Haikal answered the call.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?” Aruna's voice came from the other end. “You're coming to Arunika's school, right?”
“I said I would.”
“I just wanted to make sure.”
“There's no need.”
Silence for a moment.
Then Aruna said, “Ryan might come.”
The pen in Haikal's hand stopped moving.
Naren saw the change, but Haikal immediately leaned back and looked at the computer screen.
“Ryan?” he asked, even though he already knew.
“He was invited as one of the event's donors. I was just told.”
Aruna's tone sounded normal. Not excited, but not truly flat either. It was enough to set something old inside Haikal's chest moving again.
“Then I'll come,” Haikal said.
“Haikal, don't make things awkward.”
“I won't make anything.”
“I'm serious.”
“So am I.”
Aruna fell silent. “Arunika wants you to watch her performance.”
“I know.”
“Don't be late.”
The call ended.
Haikal was still holding his phone when the screen went dark. In its black reflection, his face appeared again—calm, pale, and far too tired for someone who had only just begun the day.
Naren stood by the door.
“Ryan?”
Haikal slipped his phone into his pocket. “They need donors for the school event.”
“I wasn't asking about the school event.”
“Then don't ask.”
Naren clenched his fist, then released it. He wanted to force Haikal to talk. Wanted to shake his brother by the shoulders and ask why he always looked like he was waiting for something that would never come.
But Haikal was already standing.
He took his jacket, straightened his cuffs, then checked his watch.
“Walk me to the car,” he said.
“You can walk there yourself.”
“I know.”
“Then why ask me?”
Haikal looked at him for a moment. Something almost like a smile touched his face.
“Because you're standing by the door.”
Naren didn't laugh. He simply opened the door and let Haikal walk out first.
In the hallway leading to the elevator, several staff members greeted him. Haikal returned each greeting with a nod and an appropriate smile. Not too friendly, not too cold. The smile of a respected university president, a revered heir, and a leader who never appeared to lose control.
No one saw Haikal stop for a moment in front of the elevator doors.
No one saw his fingers press against his side.
No one except Naren.
“Haikal?”
Haikal quickly lowered his hand. “What?”
“Are you okay?”
Haikal stared at the floor number slowly descending.
Then, as usual, he answered, “I'm just thinking about the company.”
The elevator doors opened.
Haikal stepped inside first, carrying all his pain into the cramped space with nothing but glass walls and his own reflection.
Outside, Naren remained standing.
For the first time, that answer didn't sound like an excuse.
It sounded like a request for no one to try to save him.