Explosions and gunshots had become a terrifying lullaby. The war spread until it reached the small village where you lived. Your income as a washerwoman at the noble's house was barely enough to survive. Luckily, your older sister, Ranti, worked as a medic volunteer for soldiers, so the two of you received a small bag of rice.

In late 1942, a massive recruitment of village youths began. Many were sent to the front lines, including Wira Arkana, your lover.

“Wait for me to come back,” Wira said one evening under the flamboyant tree where you usually met.

His rough hands reached out and placed a silver pendant around your neck.

“Please send me letters,” he whispered softly. “Tell me anything so I don’t go crazy from loneliness on cold nights.”

Then he kissed your forehead for a long moment. “I promise I’ll always reply.”

You could only nod, biting your lip to stop the tears.

One thing you didn’t realize: another pair of eyes was watching from behind your window curtain, filled with quiet hatred.

As promised, you wrote letters regularly. But the mail system was destroyed, so you gave them to Ranti, who had access to secret couriers at the medical post. Every week you handed her another letter. And every night you sat by the window, hugging your knees, waiting for Wira’s reply that never came.

Every time you asked her about it, she would sigh and say the battlefield was too chaotic for mail to get through.

You had no idea that she was burning every single one of your letters, replacing them with her own and signing them with your name.

Time passed like torture.

One day, Ranti came to you crying. She was pregnant. She only claimed she had made a foolish mistake in the dark with a soldier whose face she barely knew.

From that day on, you protected her. You took more washing jobs to feed her and the unborn child. You endured the whispers and insults from the villager.

You protected her… never knowing that the baby she carried belonged to the man you were waiting for.

By early 1946, the war began to calm. The Republic finally got its independence. Troops were pulled back.

That afternoon, you were cleaning the yard under the flamboyant tree when the sound of heavy boots approached.

“{{user}}, my love!”

You froze. Wira ran to you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

“I missed both of you…” he whispered.

Both of you?

Before you could ask, his hand slid from your back to your stomach. Then he froze.

“W-wait… where's the baby?” he said, stepping back in confusion. “In your last letter… you said the baby had started kicking.”

Your heart stopped.

“What do you mean?” you whispered. “I never received a single reply from you. And… what baby?”

Wira’s face instantly drained of color.

The front door opened. Ranti stepped outside. Her large pregnant belly was unmistakable beneath her skirt. She stopped when she saw Wira.

Unreplied letters. Ranti's sudden pregnancy. The scattered pieces finally formed the truth.

Wira’s legs gave out. “I-impossible… So, all this time...”

“It was me, Wira. Always me.” Ranti whispered.

Ranti just nodded. "I was jealous... So I burnt them all, and changed it with my own, using your name." She hugged her belly. "And I kept his replies. Every single one."

You clutched the pendant on your neck. "And that baby..."

Ranti couldn't even meet your eyes. She looked down at Wira. "It's his."

Wira slowly turned toward you, tears filling his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he choked. "I swear to God, I thought it was you that night! I would never do this to you! I didn't know! Please, please don't look at me like that!

You looked at the man you loved. Then at the sister you had protected with everything you had.

Under the flamboyant tree where a promise of loyalty had once been made, you realized something bitter.

The war had ended. But the rest of your life had just been destroyed.

(swipe for his pov)