A Kindness He Thought He Had Buried

One late afternoon, after enduring another long day, Kaivan walked home under the gentle glow of the setting sun. The sky was painted in soft shades of orange, wrapping the world in fleeting warmth. Along the quiet road, he noticed in the distance the figure of an old woman standing beneath a large tree. Her faint smile seemed to carry a meaning he couldn’t quite grasp.

Kaivan slowed his steps, narrowing his eyes. Something about her felt strangely familiar, stirring memories long buried.

“Is this the road to Hegarmanah?” the old woman asked. Her voice trembled, fragile, as if she were someone lost in a storm, reaching for even the faintest light of hope.

“Of course not. This road leads to the western district,” Kaivan replied coldly. His words cut like a knife, extinguishing the fragile spark of hope in her expression. He hoped that would end the unwanted encounter, but her eyes remained fixed on him, deep confusion flickering in their depths.

He glanced at the folded map in her trembling hands. Clearly, it wasn’t helping. Though he fought to ignore it, something in the lines of her aged face tugged at him.

“That’s a map, isn’t it?” he asked flatly, his tone more command than question. The woman’s hands shook as she adjusted the paper, but it was clear she couldn’t make sense of it.

“Yes, Kaivan, this is the map. But isn’t this where I am now?” she asked, pointing with her wrinkled finger at a spot on the page. Her eyes lifted to his with a frail glimmer of hope, already fading into despair.

Kaivan fell silent. The emptiness in her gaze stirred something in him, a faint trace of the humanity he thought he had buried under his cold exterior. His green eyes lingered on her quivering hands, her purple-tinted glasses, the fragility of her presence.

“…I’m sorry,  Old Lady,” he murmured, his voice softer this time. He gently took the map, analyzing it carefully. “We’re here, not where you’re trying to go.”

“Do you have any money? If you’d like, I can call you a taxi,” he offered, awkwardly, trying to mask the unexpected compassion rising in him. She gave a weary smile, fishing out two crumpled bills from a tiny pouch.

“This is all I have, dear,” she whispered, handing him twenty thousand rupiah. Kaivan hesitated, frowning. He quickly calculated the fare in his head, at least fifty thousand.

“…That’s all you brought?” he asked cautiously. She nodded, still forcing a smile through her exhaustion.

“There’s money at home. Come, let’s go to my friend’s house first,” the old woman said suddenly, gently tugging at his arm. Her touch was frail, her steps small, leading them off the main road and onto a path curiously close to Kaivan’s own home.

He followed, though unease gnawed at his chest. “But isn’t your house in Hegarmanah?” he pressed. She only shook her head.

“I used to live here once,” she answered calmly, deepening Kaivan’s confusion. His sharp eyes caught the bulging bag she carried. Driven by instinct, he carefully searched it and found an ID card.

“Belana Berliana, Jalan Hegarmanah,” he read aloud. The name and address left him more unsettled. The road they were on didn’t match.

“ Old Lady… your house is on Hegarmanah Street, isn’t it? Just like on your ID?” Kaivan asked gently, trying to confirm her true destination. From the beginning, something about her had felt off.

The old woman only smiled faintly. Her eyes were distant, as though drifting in thoughts far beyond his reach. Kaivan frowned, doubt tightening inside him. But leaving her alone in such a state, no, that wasn’t an option. Not for someone like Kaivan, who, despite his solitude, carried a fragile heart and an unexpected sense of duty.

“…I’ll take you home by angkot,  Old Lady. Just pay me back later, alright?” he suggested. His tone was polite, though uncertainty gnawed at his mind. He knew relying on a late-night angkot in a city this size was a gamble.

The woman gave a slow nod, silent but compliant. Kaivan led the way, guiding her to the nearest stop. When the angkot arrived, he carefully helped her climb aboard, ensuring her frail body kept its balance. Through the ride, Kaivan sat in silence, torn between responsibility and doubt.

“…Did I make the right choice?” he wondered, the question echoing quietly within him.

The weight of guilt pressed heavily on Kaivan’s shoulders, gnawing at him with each step. Maybe he was just too kind for his own good, or maybe this was simply a habit he could never escape.

When the angkot screeched to a halt, Kaivan and the old woman stepped off. The street before them stretched long, lined with towering trees that swallowed the dim light of the sparsely placed street lamps. The silence of night pressed down, eerie and suffocating. Kaivan scanned the rows of houses, searching for some sort of clue.

“Which one’s your house?” he asked, glancing at the old woman. “And… you have money for the fare, right? So I can head home afterward?”

The old woman nodded firmly. “My house is the one with many trees at the gate,” she said, her calm voice carrying a faintly mysterious tone.

Kaivan followed her gaze. Ahead stood a grand gate. Behind it loomed a mansion far too large, too extravagant for someone like her.

“Are you sure this is your house?” Kaivan asked skeptically. “You didn’t even remember the street name earlier. And look, there’s a digital lock on the gate. Does this really belong to you?”

The old woman only smiled faintly. Her wrinkled hands, trembling from age, reached for the keypad and entered a string of numbers. A soft beep echoed, and the gate swung open with a mechanical hum. Kaivan froze, eyes widening.

“Seriously…?” he breathed, disbelief slipping from his lips. Curiosity burned brighter in his chest.

“Yes. This is my home,” the old woman said as she stepped forward. “How could I forget the code to my own gate?”