To My Beloved Wisnu,
I'm sorry, but our relationship has to end.
I hope you find a woman who is better than me.
I hope you'll always be happy.
From the one who will always love you,
Rachel
There was no warning, no signs at all. Suddenly, a letter appeared, striking me like a bolt of lightning.
At that time, I was studying in the United States, in the early part of my third year, when I had to face the bitter reality hanging from a single envelope. Can you imagine? A relationship that was perfectly fine suddenly turned upside down in just seventy-two hours. Our last Skype call? Everything was great. She told me about her daily life, her classes, her friends. We looked at each other through the screen, separated by time and space, sharing laughter and smiles.
When I received that letter, I immediately tried to contact Rachel. I couldn't believe what I was reading. Even though it was clearly her handwriting. Skype? No connection. Regular phone calls? Also unreachable. I tried multiple times but was met with either a busy tone or the operator's voice. I reached out to her close friends, but to no avail. They had no idea what had happened to Rachel. Even on social media, all her accounts had blocked mine.
The next day, I bought a ticket straight to Indonesia. I needed to find out for myself what was going on with Rachel. When I got to her house, it was pointless. The people living there were no longer her family, but strangers. The new owners didn't know where they had moved to either. I tried reaching out to her closest friends, but they all said the same thingâthey didn't know.
Strange. I didn't understand. I had no idea. No answers. What was really going on? I hit a dead end.
Did it hurt? Yes.
Was I wounded? I couldn't even put it into words.
***
With questions still hanging over my head, the kind of questions no one ever wants, I tried to continue living my life as best I could. I stayed active, both in my studies and in student organizations. Even though some of my friends noticed me spacing out. They would ask, "What's wrong, Nu?" and I would say, "Ah, it's nothing."
They tried to be sympathetic. But I brushed them off. I'm not the type who likes to share my pain or sorrow with others, unless it's with someone I truly trust. And people like that are hard to find in my life. Because, all this time, Rachel was the one I confided in. Through joy and pain.
One year passed, then two, three, four years, until I earned my master's degree and started working. I still hadn't found any answers. But one sunny morning, with a warm cup of black tea, I randomly picked up a local bi-weekly business magazine. As I flipped through the pages, I stumbled upon a photo of Rachel with a man. I squinted at it, scanning the article for more context.
"John added that his success could not have been achieved without the support of his beloved wife, Rachel William. Despite the ten-year age gap, John sees Rachel as a mature and understanding woman."
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Her face was exactly the same. Her name was the same too. The only difference was her last name. Rachel, seven years ago when I first met her, still had the surname Almendingen.
I had found the answer. But I wanted to be absolutely certain. Was it really her, or just someone else?
***
That weekend, I attended a business conference and booked a seat in the front row. I was there because I'd seen an ad in the magazine about this event, and Rachel's husband's name was listed as one of the speakers. The conference was limited to only a hundred people. At first, the seats were already full. But thanks to some connections and a little extra payment, they agreed to add one more for me.
The event lasted for three hours. Rachel and her husband were on at the closing session. Throughout the presentation, Rachel stood beside him, supporting him. Watching the attendees. And, of course, she saw me. Our eyes met, and she looked uneasy. She knew it was me. In that moment, I was absolutely sureâit really was her.