His name was Raka, the youngest son in the Suryana family. He was only twenty-five, still working on a short-term contract at a logistics company—no permanent position yet.
But lately, his face had been glowing with excitement. Apparently, good news—at least to him—was coming.
“Bro, I’m getting married,” he said one evening during a family gathering.
His brother-in-law, Anton, nearly choked on his tea.
“Seriously? You’ve only been working for two years, Rak. You’re not even a permanent employee yet. What’s the rush?”
Raka grinned. “Well, Lila really wants to. She’s already twenty-seven and says she’s getting too old to wait.”
Anton sighed. “Twenty-seven isn’t old, Rak. Marriage isn’t a race.”
But Raka stood firm.
“If it’s meant to be, God will provide, right? And if we need help, my parents can pitch in.”
Anton frowned. “And what about rent, groceries, and daily expenses? Who’s going to cover those?”
Raka looked confident. “We’ll manage somehow, bro. There’ll be blessings along the way.”
Anton shook his head. Deep down, he already knew how this story would unfold. Love is beautiful, sure—but blind optimism can be expensive.
Two months later, a small wedding was held at Raka’s parents’ house. He officially married Lila, the girlfriend who had been so afraid of “growing too old.”
Everything—the dress, the venue, the catering—was paid for by the parents.
For a while, things seemed fine. But then came the first blow: Lila was pregnant.
The problem was, she was also a contract worker at a project-based company with a strict rule—
“If you get pregnant, your contract ends.”
That meant two months later, she’d be out of work.
Raka panicked. His paycheck barely covered rent, let alone a family. Arguments started to surface. Money ran out halfway through each month.
Then came the complaints.
“Why won’t your family help us, Rak? We’re struggling!” Lila snapped one evening.
Anton, hearing this, could only sigh. He had warned them from the start.
But every time he tried to offer advice, Lila took it personally.
“Just admit it, you don’t want to help us!” she once shouted.
Anton kept his calm. “It’s not that, Lil. But I told you before—marriage isn’t just about love. You both insisted on this, so now you have to face the consequences.”
Lila pouted but stayed silent. What made Anton even more speechless was that they still insisted on doing their pregnancy check-ups at private hospitals instead of using their BPJS insurance at the local clinic.
“Just use BPJS, Lil. It’s free,” Anton said.
“No, the clinic’s crowded and their equipment’s outdated,” she replied bluntly.
Anton could only smile bitterly. Some people, he thought, would rather go broke than look “less classy.”
Weeks later, things took another turn for the worse.
Raka came to Anton with an unbelievable request—he wanted his inheritance.
“For capital, bro. Just a small share,” Raka said casually.
Anton was stunned.
“Rak, inheritance is given when your parents pass away—not when they’re still alive.”
Raka’s tone turned defensive.
“Easy for you to say, bro! You’re already settled. We just want a chance to live decently too!”
Anton didn’t respond. He realized it was pointless to argue with someone who refused to listen.
Sometimes, life itself has to be the teacher.
Months passed. Anton often saw Raka and Lila sitting outside their rented house, staring blankly at the wall—probably calculating bills again. Their baby had been born—tiny, innocent, and oblivious to the chaos around.
Anton felt pity, but also resignation. He had done what he could.
Because the truth was simple:
Love is beautiful, yes.
But without logic, it turns into a trap.
And Raka, his brother-in-law, had walked right into it—clinging to the same naive belief he once proudly declared:
“There’ll be blessings later, bro.”
Indeed, blessings do come.
But not for those who only believe, and never prepare.
Photo by Photos by Lanty on Unsplash
