Hard to refuse

    The boarding room light flickered weakly, while the old ceiling fan spun with a tired creak. Alana sat on her narrow bed, a textbook open on her lap. Her eyes didn’t read the words; they only blurred into the weight of her thoughts.

On the small desk, envelopes of unpaid bills lay scattered, some already gathering dust. The numbers inside haunted her like shadows. Her fingers clutched the edge of her blanket, fighting back the sting in her eyes.

“Back then. I never imagined things would turn out like this,” she whispered.

Her mind drifted to her childhood. A tenth birthday party—white silk dress, orchestra music, a five-tiered cake, and her mother’s graceful smile. Guests came one by one, shaking hands, speaking the Adinegara family name with respect.

Now, the only company she had was a neighbor blasting dangdut music through thin walls.

Alana exhaled a long, heavy sigh. “I used to have everything now I have nothing.”

Knock! Knock! Knock!

“Lan! Open up! I’ve got great news!”

The familiar shrill voice made her turn. Alana hurried to the door and unlocked it. Standing outside was Lala, her ever-cheerful friend with round cheeks, a high ponytail, and that usual sparkle in her eyes.

“Lala, what is it? You’re way too excited,” Alana asked, puzzled.

“Here!” Lala shoved her phone forward. On the screen was a job ad: Freelance Staff Needed – Sanjaya Corp Gala Dinner.

Alana froze. That name. Her breath caught, her hand trembling.

“The pay is huge, Lan. Enough to cover your two-month rent,” Lala continued quickly, not noticing her friend’s sudden expression.

“Lala…,” Alana’s voice shook. “Isn’t there any other place?”

“Why? You usually take every freelance job you can. And this one’s just for a night—wear black and white, serve food, and done. Simple.”

Alana bit her lip hard.

Lala squinted at her. “Wait. Don’t tell me… you have a problem with the Sanjayas?”

Silence fell. Finally, Alana murmured, “I have personal reasons.”

“Oh, come on.” Lala sighed, patting her shoulder. “Life isn’t a soap opera. Just focus on the money. You need this.”

Alana couldn’t reply.

When Lala left, the room fell silent again, filled only with the fan’s creaking hum. Alana sat back on the bed, gripping her phone. The job ad still glared from the screen as if mocking her.

The name Sanjaya pierced her chest. Too many wounds opened just by reading it.

Closing her eyes, she saw her mother’s pale face, her father’s body on the floor, blood staining the luxurious carpet. All of it happened because of Ratna—who now lived comfortably under the Sanjayas’ protection.

Her hands trembled. “If I go there… I’ll have to face them.”

But then came the harsher truth—her landlady’s threats, the unpaid bills, and nights of instant noodles. She had no real choice.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Lala lit the screen:

“I already signed you up. Don’t complain. You’ll thank me later.”

Alana stared at the words for a long time before a small, bitter smile curved her lips. “Typical Lala.”

She stood and faced the cracked mirror on the desk. Her black hair was messy, her face pale without makeup. Yet, in her weary eyes, something still burned—determination.

“Mom, Dad…,” she whispered, almost like a prayer. “I promise I won’t run anymore. I’ll face them.”

***

    The night stretched on. From her window, Alana saw streetlights flicker, cars honking in the distance. She lay on the bed, wide awake, torn between fear and hope.

Then came Lala’s voice again from outside. “Lan, you hungry? I bought fried rice, with free fried tempeh!”

Alana opened the door. The savory aroma hit her immediately. She smiled faintly. “Smells amazing.”

“Of course it does.” Lala handed her a warm paper wrap. “You need proper food. Tomorrow’s gonna be tough—you can’t collapse on the job.”

They sat on the floor, eating together. Silence filled the room, broken only by the clatter of spoons and the drone of the old fan.

“Lan,” Lala said suddenly, “I don’t know why you hate that name so much. But if it makes you hesitate, remember one thing—you’re still alive. As long as you have a chance, don’t waste it.”

Alana looked at her friend, heart aching and warm at once. “Thanks, La. You never change.”

“Obviously,” Lala grinned. “I’m Lala, your forever cheerleader.”

Alana laughed softly, though pain still lingered inside. Deep down, she knew one truth: tomorrow, she would step in

to a world tied to her past. And once she did, there would be no turning back.