Anton took a deep breath as he watched the rain fall outside the window. Deep down, he knew this was supposed to be a happy day. His younger brother was getting married — a moment that should have been filled with laughter, joy, and family bonding.
But that morning felt different. All the relatives were busy getting ready, dressed in matching outfits — cousins, uncles, aunts, even distant relatives.
Everyone had a uniform.
Everyone, except Anton, his wife Wimara, and their three children.
Anton had once gathered the courage to ask, “Why weren’t we given the uniform?”
The answer came casually, almost like a joke, but it cut deep.
“Can you even afford the tailoring fee?”
Anton stayed silent. His face tensed, but he said nothing more. Wimara could see the disappointment in his eyes. She knew her husband well — before the pandemic struck and destroyed his business, Anton was everyone’s go-to person. Whoever was in need, they came to Anton. He was generous, always ready to help.
But now, with Anton at rock bottom, it felt like the world had turned its back on them.
Wimara looked at her husband and gave a faint smile. She knew she had to stay strong. If she showed weakness, Anton would feel even worse. So quietly, she came up with a plan.
She called her own sister and asked for a favor — to send over an old kebaya she had worn once for her graduation ceremony. It was still beautiful. For Anton and the kids, Wimara ordered affordable, matching clothes from an online marketplace. They weren’t the same color as the family’s official uniform, but at least they would look decent together.
The wedding day came. The entire family left together in rented cars, laughing, chatting, and taking pictures in their matching outfits.
Meanwhile, Wimara, Anton, and the kids rode on their motorbike. It was rainy season, the kids were still small, and the road was wet and cold. Wimara sat on the back, holding on tightly, fighting back the sting of tears.
She felt embarrassed, sad, and a little jealous — but she stayed strong. She refused to cry. She knew that if she broke down, Anton would blame himself and feel worse.
When they arrived at the groom’s house, they joined the others, smiling and chatting as if nothing was wrong. Inside her heart, Wimara whispered,
“One day, things will be different.”
Years passed. The memory was forgiven, but it never completely faded. The pain had turned into a quiet reminder — that once, their family was looked down upon just because of their situation.
From that moment, Wimara made a promise to herself: if she ever saw someone else going through a hard time, she would never treat them the way they were treated. Because she believed that those who are looked down on today, could be the very ones God raises to a higher place tomorrow.
And when that day comes, she wants to stand not as someone who returned the pain, but as someone who understands it — and chooses to embrace, not exclude.
Photo by Julia Fiander on Unsplash
