That morning, Aurelina didn't go to class.
Not because she was sick, but because her soul was far too heavy to sit still and pretend everything was fine.
She kept staring at the tiny necklace from her mother. The initials "R.D." shimmered faintly in the morning light. It was no bigger than a coin, yet it weighed on her chest like a stone.
---
That name echoed in her mind again:
Rey Darmawan.
She typed it once more into her phone, this time adding a new word—a suspicion that had been growing quietly for some time:
> "Rey Darmawan writer R Literasi"
For the first time, an old article appeared—posted on a small literary forum.
---
> "Rey Darmawan, a realist fiction writer who chose to write under the pen name 'R' after disappearing from the writing world in 2018."
"Before that, 'R' was known for stories about heartbreak—so raw and real, they felt too personal to be fiction."
"No clear photo of him exists. But in one of his last interviews, he said: 'I write for one person. But she may never read it.'"
Aurelina held her breath.
Her eyes were damp.
> "I write for one person. But she may never read it."
That sentence felt like it was written just for her.
---
She quickly logged into the forum, digging through every trace left behind.
And then, in an old PDF folder from a literary community, her eyes froze on a single page:
> "R's Work: For You, A—the One I Could Never Forget."
Her hands trembled as she clicked it.
Inside, a short story.
About a poor boy who loved a rich girl, then left to chase his dreams… and by the time he came back, the girl had already married someone else.
---
> "...I waited for you under your window that night. But it wasn't you I saw. It was the white dress. And the hand you were holding... wasn't mine."
"That's when I knew... I was too late. But still, I wrote this. For you. Even if you'll never know who I am."
---
Aurelina's tears slid gently down her phone screen.
Every story. Every word. Every letter—
They weren't fiction.
They were real.
They were about her mother. About herself. About Rey.
And the most painful truth of all:
The man who wrote them… was Kak Rey.
---
She stood up, her body trembling.
The world around her seemed to spin slowly.
> "Kak Rey… he's not just a mentor. Not just a writer. He…"
She stopped.
> "…he might be my father."
---
In panic and confusion, Aurelina opened her old messages.
There was one text she had ignored back when training first began.
It was from Rey:
> "If anything's ever wrong, you can talk to me. I may not be anyone, but I'll always listen."
And now, that message felt like a code—
One she had been blind to all this time.
---
That evening, Aurelina stood in front of the training room.
But she didn't go inside.
Through the glass window, she saw Rey sitting alone, reading a book, just like always.
But this time, she didn't see him as a teacher.
She saw a man carrying a wound from the past.
She saw someone who had long wanted to speak, but never had the courage.
And for the first time, Aurelina felt anger.
Not for being left behind—
But for how someone so close could keep so much... and never say a word.
---
> "Why didn't you tell me from the start?" she whispered, though no one could hear.
"Why stay silent… while I was searching?"
---
The sky was turning orange.
In her chest, a mix of curiosity, tears, a small resentment, and a strange flicker of hope she couldn't explain.
One thing was clear:
Tomorrow, she would speak.
No matter what.
She needed to hear the truth—
From the mouth of Rey Darmawan.
Her father.