It had been three weeks since Aurel sent the letter and the notebook.
And since that day, something in Rey slowly began to change.
Not because of a miracle.
Not even because love had reignited.
But because of one bitter truth he finally accepted:
> "The world he once left behind no longer waited for him."
---
That morning, Rey stood in the hospital's small garden.
His fingers still trembled, but they were steady enough to hold the bamboo broom.
He swept slowly, piling dried leaves near the fence corner.
Other patients sat on benches nearby.
Some laughed to themselves.
Some just stared at the sky.
But Rey was different. He was still sane.
It was only his heart that had been broken.
And that day, he began to try picking up the pieces himself.
---
Nurse Rani watched him from a distance.
"He used to refuse to talk to anyone," she whispered to the attending doctor.
"Now he helps clean the garden every morning."
"Because of that letter?"
"Not just the letter," Rani replied. "But because he finally realized… he can't live in the past forever."
---
That night, Rey sat in his room, gazing at the moon behind the glass window.
He opened Aurel's notebook again.
On one of the back pages, written in hurried handwriting, was a short message:
> "If you're reading this after I've become someone else's wife, I hope you don't hate me."
> "I love you differently now. Not to own you, but to remember you."
> "Thank you for being my home when every place felt strange."
Rey closed the book gently.
He didn't cry.
He just let out a long breath, then stood and picked up a blank sheet of paper.
That night, he wrote a reply.
Not to send.
But for himself.
To seal the wound, so it wouldn't keep bleeding every night.
---
> To Aurel, who once was my entire direction...
I won't come again.
Not because I stopped loving you,
but because I finally learned to love myself.
— Rey
---
The next morning, while sweeping, a well-dressed man came to the hospital.
He carried a brown folder and asked for Rey.
"Our branch director used to know him," he told the receptionist.
"We heard he once joined a training in Bandung. His psych test scores back then… were incredible."
Nurse Rani approached. "He's still recovering mentally."
"That's exactly why we're here," the man replied.
"We're not offering him a job right away. We want to include him in our recovery-through-work program. There's an opening for our internal editorial team.
He'll start in a quiet room. All he needs to do… is write."
Rani paused.
Then slowly nodded.
---
That afternoon, Rey was called into the counseling room.
"Rey," said Nurse Rani, "do you want to hear something that might make you nervous?"
Rey gave a small smile.
"After everything I've lost, I don't think anything could shake me more than losing her."
Rani chuckled gently.
"What if I told you… the world isn't finished with you yet?"
---
Three days later, Rey sat in a small workroom on the second floor of the rehabilitation ward.
A wooden desk, a small window, and an old laptop.
But on the screen, a blank page was open with the title:
> Title: A Letter to the Future
Rey's fingers touched the keyboard.
He took a breath.
Then he began to write.
---
Meanwhile, in a small house on the outskirts of the city, Aurel was changing Reyhan's diaper.
Her baby smiled, face innocent, fists curled softly.
Damar came in carrying a bowl of porridge, kissing Aurel's forehead before sitting beside her.
Aurel looked at her child and whispered softly:
> "One day when you grow up… and fall in love…
Remember this, sweetheart…
The one who truly loves you isn't always the first to arrive—
But the one who stays…
even when you are no one."