The Story of Jawata: Pusaka Ajaib

Mia

My phone vibrated in my pocket while I was wiping down the last table in the ballroom.

I froze, the cloth still in my hand, my heart pounding hard against my ribs. Mrs. Betty never called me this late unless something was wrong with Lior.

I glanced around. The ballroom was nearly empty now, just the four of us finishing the cleanup.

Keeping it with me was against hotel policy. If the supervisor caught me, I could lose the job I desperately needed. But rules didn’t matter when your five-year-old son had been born with a hole in his heart.

Lior had been weaker these past few months. He got tired easily. Even playing with his toys sometimes left him breathless.

So tonight, like every night I worked, my neighbor Mrs. Betty was watching him. She lived two houses down and loved Lior like her own grandson.

And right now something had clearly gone wrong.

Jane noticed my expression immediately.

“Go answer it,” she murmured. “I’ll cover for you.”

Jane was the only person at work who knew about Lior’s condition.

“Thank you,” I said, already moving.

The hallway outside the ballroom was empty. I hurried into the stairwell and answered the call with shaking hands.

“Hello?”

“Mia!” Mrs. Betty sounded terrified. “We’re at the hospital.”

The world seemed to tilt beneath my feet.

“What happened?”

“Lior collapsed. He fainted and wouldn’t wake up. I called an ambulance. They took him in right away–”

“I’m coming.”

I hung up and ran for the door.

Tears blurred my vision as I drove through the night, wiping them away angrily. Losing control of the car wouldn’t help my son.

When I burst through the emergency entrance, Mrs. Betty hurried toward me.

“Oh Mia, thank God you’re here.”

“Where is he?” My voice trembled.

“They took him inside. The doctor wants to speak with you.”

Dr. Dean had been Lior’s cardiologist since the day he was born.

I pushed open the door to his office.

He was sitting behind his desk, Lior’s file open in front of him. The look on his face made my stomach drop.

“Mia,” he said gently. “Please sit.”

I shook my head. “I’d rather stand. Just tell me what’s happening with my son.”

He sighed quietly.

“Lior’s condition has worsened. His heart can’t keep up anymore. He needs surgery.”

The room suddenly felt too small.

“For the best chance of recovery, it should be done as soon as possible.”

“How soon?”

“Within a week.”

“God… please,” I whispered.

“And the total cost,” he continued gently, “will be approximately three hundred thousand dollars.”

My knees nearly buckled.

“Three hundred thousand?” My voice cracked. “Doctor… I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I understand how overwhelming that sounds,” he said softly. “But the sooner we operate, the better his chances.”

The next thing I remember, I was standing beside Lior’s hospital bed.

My little boy lay still beneath the white sheets, his small hand wrapped in tape from the IV.

I brushed my fingers through his soft hair.

“My brave boy,” I whispered.

Fear pressed heavily against my chest, but I forced myself to breathe and hold it together. This wasn’t the time to fall apart.

If three hundred thousand dollars was what it took to save my son, I would find it.

The only person I knew who could easily afford that kind of money was my husband, Ruben.

I drove home as fast as I could.

The house was quiet when I stepped inside, but I didn’t stop. I went straight upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door.

Ruben stood beside the bed with a woman wrapped around him, their mouths locked together.

The woman looked startled when she saw me.

A new one. They always looked like that the first time. Later, once Ruben made it clear I meant nothing in this house, they usually started treating me the same way.

In the first few months of our marriage, things like this used to break me.

I would lie in bed and cry quietly into my pillow, especially on the nights Ruben made me change the sheets after them or serve food like I was part of the staff.

But after a while it became impossible to pretend the marriage was anything else. Ruben had married me to punish me.

Once I understood that, I stopped expecting anything different.

The only thing I tried to do was keep Lior away from it all.

“Ruben.”

He pulled away from the woman, irritation flashing across his face.

“Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Something in my voice must have caught his attention, because he sighed and waved toward the door.

“Wait in the living room.”

A moment later he joined me, buttoning his shirt.

“What is it?”

“Lior collapsed tonight,” I said quickly. “He’s in the hospital. The doctor says he needs surgery.”

Ruben stared at me without emotion.

“The surgery costs three hundred thousand dollars,” I continued. “I need you to help me borrow the money.”

“Borrow it from where?” he laughed.

“Your company. Your family. Anyone,” I said. “Please.”

His expression hardened. “You expect me to take money from my business for that?”

“For your son.”

“Don’t say that.”

“He calls you Daddy, Ruben.”

“Stop.” His voice turned cold. “Don’t you dare call him mine. You know he isn’t.”

“Please,” I whispered. “I’ll pay you back. Every cent. Just help me save him.”

Ruben looked at me with complete indifference.

“Then go find his real father.”

The last bit of hope I had brought into this house was gone.

He waved a hand dismissively.

“Or let the boy die and save everyone the trouble.”