“Rofik and Teguh?” Grandfather Har, Mr Ridho, and Mrs Saras cried out in unison, their voices trembling with disbelief and shock.
Havi nodded slowly, his gaze steady, “Yes… those two,” he declared with quiet conviction, every word weighed and sure.
The three exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes wide with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension.
Surely, they knew the names well. Rofik and Teguh, figures long notorious across the village of Loban and the neighbouring hamlets.
Two young men branded as lost causes, their reputations stained by drunken brawls, petty theft, and darker deeds that had cast a shadow over their community.
Their mischief was no longer confined to their own village.
Rumours of their chaos echoed through Wlahar, Tareung, and other nearby settlements, leaving a trail of unrest in their wake.
Their names were not just whispered, but feared, recalled with bitterness, spoken with wary voices and heavy hearts.
Mrs Saras, Havi’s mother, burst forth in a voice trembling between anguish and disbelief.
“Why, Havi? Why?” she demanded, her words almost choked by the storm raging within her. “Why must it be those two?”
Her hand shot up, poised to strike her son’s face, but was swiftly intercepted by her husband, Mr Ridho, who grasped her wrist with quiet urgency.
“Don’t,” he commanded, his tone firm yet laced with a sorrow that ran deep.
His eyes met hers, the steady gaze of a father fighting to hold himself together amid the tempest of emotions.
Whether Havi’s tale of reincarnation was truth or mere fancy, it had swept them all into an overwhelming tide of feeling.
And the fierce anger that flared from Mrs Saras was the undeniable proof, that deep down, they accepted the impossible story of a son reborn.
Before them, Havi kept his head bowed, silent and still. He spoke no word, made no plea, offered no defiance.
Diana and Nuriana remained quiet too, yet their eyes never left him, filled with unspoken questions, confusion, and a subtle, tender sympathy that neither dared voice.
At last, Havi lifted his face. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, his voice quivered with raw emotion as he said, “Mother… I have told you already! Only those two ever showed me any care!”
“Preposterous!” Mrs Saras exclaimed, her voice sharp with disbelief. “I know well the folk of Loban village. They are good, decent people!”
“If the villagers were truly kind and caring,” Havi shot back, his tone rising with restrained fury, “then I would never have been forced to turn to crime in my life before this rebirth.”
His eyes, now rimmed with red, swept over them all, “You know as well as I do how desperate I was. It was out of sheer necessity! If I hadn’t resorted to crime, where else could I have found a morsel to eat?!”
A heavy silence settled over the room, thick and unyielding, before Havi’s voice rose again, stronger now, tinged with bitter sorrow.
“I… begged for scraps, starving beyond reason. And do you know what their reply was? With cold, mocking eyes, they said, ‘Work hard if you want to eat.’”
He tightened his jaw, fighting back the quiver deep within his chest, “Can you imagine how that felt? I was still in my final year at school, exams on the horizon, and yet I had to work. But where was the time? What kind of work could I possibly do?”
His words echoed sharply beneath the low rafters, cutting through the oppressive silence that had engulfed them all.
Not a soul stirred, heads bowed low, voices caught in their throats. Even Mrs Saras sat frozen, unable to summon a single word.
“And yet…” Havi pressed on, his tone steady though laced with quiet defiance, “if it weren’t for Rofik and Teguh, I might never have come to master what I now do.”
Old Har’s brow furrowed deeply, suspicion darkening his gaze, “Master what exactly, lad? Pray, explain.”
Havi inclined his head slowly, “Rofik and Teguh… though they were branded as worthless youths, doomed to a bleak future, they were the ones who taught me everything I know. They never asked for payment, save for my help in their criminal exploits,” he admitted with raw honesty.
“They were the first to teach me to ride a motorbike, something I’d never mastered even before my reincarnation. And beyond that… how to drive a car,” he continued.
His gaze swept across the stunned faces before him, then he posed a question that deepened the heavy silence.
“Tell me! Who else in this village of Loban can drive a car, besides Rofik and Teguh?”
A bitter, sardonic smile played on his lips, barely concealing the ache beneath, “No one,” he said sharply.
“They only learnt to drive out of sheer necessity, desperate for money. Large sums. And so they resorted to stealing cars from towns far and wide, including the city of Telaga.”
The room fell into a heavy silence as all lowered their heads, the weight of despair palpable.
It was clear that some overwhelming force had driven Havi to a life of crime in his previous existence.
After a lingering pause, Diana lifted her gaze, eyes sharp and voice barely above a whisper, thick with astonishment and disbelief.
“Now it all makes sense. From what Yono told me, you couldn’t even ride a motorbike, yet here you are, suddenly mastering the wheel of my car with such reckless finesse…!”
A faint, knowing smile curved Havi’s lips, “Yes, that’s exactly how it happened,” he replied with quiet certainty.
“You… you actually drove a car?!” Mr Ridho’s voice cracked with shock.
Havi nodded, steady and sure, “Indeed, Father. I appeared out of nowhere and saved you both from a fate that has haunted my thoughts since my former life,” he said, casting a glance towards Diana.
“I only borrowed the car briefly, though I confess, I drove it at a dangerously wild pace. Quite fast!,” he added.
Diana snorted sharply, a sardonic smile tugging at her mouth, “Dangerously wild? Over 120 kilometres per hour in my car, and you refused to slow down even on the tightest bends. Is that what you call ‘quite fast’?”
Havi’s tension broke, and a soft, relieved chuckle escaped him, “Yes, apologies. Perhaps it was more than quite fast after all. Ha,” he said lightly, the humour easing the room’s heaviness.
“Huff!” Diana exhaled sharply, her irritation barely contained.
Grandfather Har, Mr Ridho, and Mrs Saras exchanged wary glances.
“How fast, exactly, is 120 kilometres per hour?” Grandfather Har murmured, leaning towards Mr Ridho and Mrs Saras.
Both shook their heads slowly, “I haven’t the faintest idea, uncle,” Mr Ridho admitted quietly.
“Perhaps as swift as a coach,” Mrs Saras ventured.
“Faster than that!” Nuriana interjected with quiet certainty. “When my car lost control, it was still doing around eighty kilometres an hour.”
“In that case...” Grandfather Har muttered, deep in thought.
Nuriana nodded firmly, “It must have been even swifter,” she said with quiet conviction.
The three, Grandfather Har, Mr Ridho, and Mrs Saras, turned their gaze upon Havi, their expressions a mix of bewilderment and silent questioning.
Havi met their eyes only briefly before lowering his head, drawing a slow, steady breath.
When he finally spoke, his voice was calm but resolute, “I know what you’re all thinking. But this is the truth I’ve had to live with.”
Mrs Saras’s eyes narrowed, her voice trembling with restrained emotion, “Havi, you shouldn’t bear all this burden alone. There are other roads you might have taken.”
Mr Ridho’s nod was slow, heavy with unspoken support, “No matter your past, you remain our son. Whatever comes, we face it together.”
Diana and Nuriana exchanged glances filled with cautious hope, while Grandfather Har exhaled deeply, as though releasing a weight long carried.
The room settled into a profound silence, charged with unspoken understanding, awaiting Havi’s next words.