The evening sky began to darken when Arman arrived home, just like any other day after work. His steps felt heavy—not because of fatigue, but due to an uneasy feeling weighing down his chest. When he opened the door, the house felt eerily quiet. There was no sound of his wife, Ira, who would usually be busy in the kitchen or watching TV in the living room.
"Ira?" he called, taking off his shoes.
No answer.
Arman quickly pulled out his phone and called Ira, but she didn't pick up. He tried again and again, but there was still no response.
That night, Arman waited, hoping Ira would come home soon. But as morning came, there was still no sign of her. A sense of dread filled Arman's heart. He began calling Ira's friends to ask about her whereabouts. Unfortunately, none of them knew anything. After 24 hours with no news, Arman went to the police station to report her missing.
Two days later, Arman received devastating news. The police had found Ira's belongings at a beach—her bag, shoes, scarf, and phone. After a week of investigation and search, they concluded that Ira had most likely drowned and her body was carried off into the open sea.
But Arman refused to believe it.
"Until I see her body with my own eyes, I won't believe she's dead," he said, his eyes welling with tears.
Everyone advised Arman to accept reality, but he was determined to keep searching. He felt Ira was still alive, somewhere he couldn't yet reach. He spread missing person posters, asked around tirelessly, even hired a private detective. But all efforts turned up empty.
Time passed quickly. Months turned into years, but Arman never gave up. He held on to his faith and kept searching. One day, a man in a glowing white shirt with a gentle aura read one of the weathered posters by the roadside. That man was Serafim. He sat across from Arman, watching him with quiet curiosity, then approached.
"It's been years. Why are you still looking for her? The police already declared her dead, didn't they?"
Arman looked him straight in the eyes. "As long as I haven't found her body, I'll believe she's still alive."
That answer made Serafim smile faintly. "Alright. In that case, may I help you?"
"Why would you want to help me?" Arman asked suspiciously.
"I admire your faith and spirit. Wouldn't it be better if you had a partner in searching for your wife?" Serafim replied with a smile.
"…Alright. I'll accept your goodwill," Arman said, inviting Serafim to his house.
At Arman's home, Serafim suggested they look for clues in places he had never considered before—books Ira used to read.
"She liked reading?" Serafim asked, looking at the neatly stacked books on the table.
"Yes, she loved reading and journaling," Arman replied briefly.
Serafim flipped through the books and began to notice a pattern: Ira often read books about Ubud.
"I've read these over and over, but never found anything," Arman said.
"Including these books and stamps about Ubud?" Serafim asked, holding up some books and envelopes.
"You're right! Why is there so much about Ubud?" Arman murmured.
Serafim looked at him gently. "Maybe she left a trail there."
Without delay, Arman traveled to Ubud with Serafim. Once there, they posted flyers and asked the locals. Until one day, an old vegetable vendor stared at the flyer for a long time.
"This woman… I've seen her," he said.
Arman rushed over, filled with hope. "Where did you see her?!"
"I believe she lives in a house near those hills…" said the vendor, giving them the detailed address.
Arman's heart raced. "Thank you!"
He quickly went to the address, with Serafim following. When they arrived, Arman felt a stabbing pain in his chest. He saw Ira. She was in the yard with a man, laughing together. Nearby, a small child was playing with a ball.
"Ira…" Arman whispered, eyes wide in disbelief.
Seeing her again, the longing in his heart turned into deep disappointment. Without thinking, Arman rushed forward and punched the man in the face.
Thud!
The man fell to the ground. Ira screamed and stepped in front of Arman.
"Arman! What are you doing?!"
"What am I doing?! I should be asking you! What are you doing here, Ira?! I've searched for you for years! I thought you were dead! But you're alive and living with another man!" Arman's voice shook with anger and grief.
Ira looked at him coldly. "I left you on purpose."
Arman was stunned. "What…? What do you mean…?"
Ira stared sharply. "I was tired, Arman. Throughout our marriage, you only cared about work. I never felt seen or loved. We never even laughed like normal couples," she said, pointing her finger at him.
Arman was silent.
"And yes… I cheated. I love Rian," she said, glancing at the man Arman had punched. "He gave me the happiness you never could."
Arman clenched his fists. "So you chose him over me?"
Ira nodded. "Yes. And more than that… I had another reason to leave. I was pregnant with his child. I decided to disappear from your life. I faked my death so you'd stop looking for me."
Arman stood frozen. His world collapsed.
All this time… I didn't just lose Ira. I was betrayed.
With heavy steps, Arman walked away from the house. Serafim watched in silent sympathy. Arman, still consumed by rage and unable to let go of his pain, was soon approached by a dark figure—Azazel.
"She destroyed your life. She deserves to die," Azazel whispered.
Arman lowered his head, fists clenched tightly.
"Betrayed by your own wife… painful, isn't it?" Azazel's voice dripped with temptation.
Arman remained silent.
"Don't you want revenge? Make them feel the same pain you felt," Azazel whispered, planting the seed.
Arman closed his eyes. Anger clouded his heart, and he succumbed to Azazel's persuasion. That was the beginning of a plan for murder.
That night, Arman sneaked near Ira's house. He had prepared a wicked plan—tampering with their car to cause a fatal crash and destroy her new family. His mind was clouded with darkness. Just as he was about to act, a small ball rolled to his feet.
"Sorry, Uncle!"
Arman turned and saw a little boy running toward him. It was Ira and Rian's son. The child looked up with innocent eyes and gave a small smile.
"Uncle, you came yesterday, right? I saw you arguing with Papa and Mama…"
Arman froze.
"If they did something wrong to you, I'm sorry," said the boy sincerely.
Arman's heart was pierced like never before. He could barely breathe.
This child knows nothing. He's innocent, and yet almost became a victim of my wrath.
Arman's body trembled. His heart was heavy. He canceled his plan.
"Uncle, can I have my ball back?" the boy asked.
Arman looked down, picked up the ball, and handed it to him.
"What's your name?" he asked hoarsely.
"Rafael," the boy replied with a pure smile.
Arman felt a lump in his throat.
"Thank you, Uncle," Rafael said, waving before running back home.
Realizing the evil he almost committed, Arman dropped the tool in his hand. His breath shook. His clarity returned.
"That's enough, Arman," Serafim's gentle voice came. "Don't let darkness take control of you."
Azazel growled in fury upon seeing his manipulation fail.
"You're pathetic! You had the chance to take revenge! Why let them live happily after betraying you?!"
Arman shook his head, tears in his eyes. "I'm not a killer…"
Azazel vanished with a roar of rage. Arman collapsed to the ground, his body weak. Serafim approached and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.
"You chose the right path, Arman."
Arman tried to accept everything that had happened. He looked at Ira's house one last time, then walked away without saying goodbye.
Days later, Serafim visited Arman with a somber face.
"I have news for you," he said quietly.
Serafim guided Arman to watch the current television broadcast. Arman's eyes fixed on the screen. A tragic accident in Ubud was being reported. The report stated that many had died. Among the wrecked cars, one of them belonged to Ira and Rian.
"The married couple involved in the crash were declared dead at the scene," the news anchor said.
Arman froze.
"This…?" his voice trembled.
Serafim patted his shoulder. "There are things beyond your control, Arman. This… was their fate."
Arman covered his face with both hands. Grief pierced through his ribs like a blade. He hadn't even had the chance to say sorry to Ira. Instantly, his mind turned to Rafael. Without delay, Arman rushed to Ubud to find out what had happened to the boy.
Once there, he immediately sought information about the child. After asking around to various people, he finally discovered that Rafael was currently under the care of the Social Services Office, considered an abandoned child who had lost his parents in an accident.
With a pounding heart, Arman went to the office. Inside the room, he saw Rafael sitting alone on a chair, his feet dangling, his eyes dull and swollen from crying.
Arman slowly approached him. "Rafael…"
The boy lifted his face. "Uncle…"
Arman knelt before him. "You're not alone. If you're willing, you can come with me."
Rafael stared at him for a long moment. He was still very young, but he could feel that Arman was not a stranger.
"You want to take care of me? Papa and Mama went to heaven. I don't know anyone here, Uncle," he asked innocently.
"Of course, I will take care of you…" Arman replied, embracing Rafael.
Serafim only gave a faint smile from afar.
Finally, Rafael gave a small nod. "I want to go with you, Uncle."
Arman handled everything himself, from the funerals of Ira and Rian to the custody arrangements for Rafael. Fortunately, since he was still Ira's legal husband, he was able to gain custody of Rafael without difficulty. Once the funeral and paperwork were done, Arman took Rafael to his parents' grave to say goodbye.
As Rafael stood in front of his parents' graves, he held Arman's hand tightly.
"I'll come back here again someday, right?"
Arman nodded and smiled. "Yes, I promise."
They left the place and began a new life in the city where Arman lived. Serafim watched Arman from afar with pride. Though darkness had once consumed his heart, he chose the right path. And in that choice, a new light began to shine in his life. The wound that once brought so much pain to Arman taught him to keep on loving. Just like his love for Rafael.
***