Priska's head spun instantly. She had paid a substantial sum to Mr. Joko for a two-year lease, and it wasn’t a small amount. Satria returned the house certificate to the safe, put his ID card back in his wallet, and looked at Priska with sympathy.
"Do you have a contract?" Satria asked.
"No, Mr. Joko took it." Priska was too distressed to think clearly and hadn’t paid much attention to the contract, making her an easy target for deception.
"Were there any witnesses when you signed? Did you pay in cash or via transfer?"
"No witnesses, and I paid in cash," Priska murmured in a daze.
"I’m not a bad person. You can stay here for tonight," Satria offered.
He felt uneasy about Priska being scammed so blatantly. Priska met his gaze with caution—she no longer believed that good men existed after what she had been through.
"Fine, I’ll stay tonight and look for a new place tomorrow," Priska replied before turning to leave the room.
"What’s your name?" Satria asked.
There was something sorrowful in her eyes. They gleamed softly, but beneath that glow lay pain—pain she was trying so hard to bury. It stirred something inside Satria, making him want to know her more.
"Priska," she answered reluctantly before walking away.
Satria exhaled heavily. Once again, Mr. Joko had taken advantage of his absence over the past few months to scam people for money. Satria was rarely home—he often slept at the hospital, and with a week-long seminar and training, he hadn’t checked on the house in a while.
Unfortunately, there was no solid evidence to hold Mr. Joko accountable. Of course, that cunning man would deny any accusations. The law often felt useless in situations like this. Especially against someone as shrewd as Mr. Joko, who had even forged an official-looking contract. Priska had likely signed it hastily, desperate for a place to stay. Satria felt bad for her, but there wasn’t much he could do. The rent for this charming semi-classic house wasn’t cheap, and the amount Priska mentioned earlier was staggering.
Yawning, Satria decided to rest after days of training and seminars. His entire body ached. On the way home, he had imagined soaking in a warm bath, but instead, he came home to a new problem—a young college girl sitting on the terrace, staring blankly into space.
"Ah, finally, a bed. Sleeping in a car is the worst," Satria mumbled as he stretched his legs and back, his gaze wandering to the ceiling.
"She’s beautiful… but why does she look so sad?"
Satria had a feeling that Priska’s sadness wasn’t just about being scammed by Mr. Joko. Even after years of studying medicine and specializing in psychiatry, he still found it difficult to read people’s expressions when they were unfamiliar. He needed to hear their stories—heart to heart—before drawing conclusions.
Satria was a psychiatrist at a major hospital in the city. He held two titles—Doctor and Psychiatric Specialist. His life was dedicated to the hospital, which was why he was rarely home. His parents had passed away long ago, and his relatives lived in other cities. His calling was to help and heal people.
***
Late at night, Satria awoke suddenly to the sound of heart-wrenching sobs. He was certain this wasn’t some supernatural entity. His house was fine, despite often being left unoccupied.
Groaning in pain, he sat up. He had been too exhausted to shower earlier and had fallen asleep in his short-sleeved checkered shirt and slacks. Forcing himself up, he followed the sound of the cries.
"That must be Priska," he thought, approaching one of the rooms and knocking gently. "Priska, are you okay?" he asked.
No response. He peeked through the keyhole and saw her lying in bed, crying in her sleep. Whatever she was dreaming about, it was painful enough to bring her to tears. Satria hesitated briefly before pushing the door open, attempting to wake her.
His curiosity deepened. There was a darkness in her that he couldn’t ignore. Where was she planning to go tomorrow? She seemed so easily deceived. Satria was certain her mental state wasn’t stable. Even earlier, she had been lost in thought more than once.
Priska’s eyes were red when she woke up, immediately swatting Satria’s hand off her shoulder. She pulled the blanket tightly around herself, looking at him with fear. The dimly lit room, bathed only in moonlight, must have reminded her of something she desperately wanted to forget.
Satria quickly withdrew his hand, respecting her boundaries. They were still strangers, after all. Any unnecessary gestures could be misinterpreted.
"Okay, I’m sorry. Please, just stay here for now. Pris, I swear, I mean no harm. I’ve treated patients with symptoms similar to yours before. If you’re willing, I can help you," Satria said, his voice gentle.
Priska still looked at him with suspicion and fear. He took a deep breath, trying not to startle her further.
"I don’t trust you. You’re just like the others. They act nice at first, all sweet and caring, but in the end, they… they rape me!" Priska spat out, anger lacing her voice.
Satria clenched his jaw, stunned. What? She was a victim of rape? No wonder she was so defensive. No wonder she closed herself off. His eyes roamed the room. He wasn’t a detective, but he had a habit of watching crime thrillers in his spare time. And right now, the scene before him screamed of multiple suicide attempts.
The room was a mess—shattered glass on the floor, a knife and cutter on the table, even a rope hanging from above. If he had come home just a day later, Priska might have already been dead in this house. The mere thought made his stomach churn.
"Do you really think dying will solve your problems?" he asked, locking eyes with her, his gaze soft.
"But I don’t deserve to live. I’m damaged goods, useless," Priska whispered, trembling. Her grip on the blanket was so tight, as if it were the only thing protecting her.
"You need to go to the hospital. I can help you. You can’t change what happened, but you’re young. Your life is still ahead of you. Please, think about the people who love you," Satria pleaded.
"There’s no one who loves me!" Priska shouted.
"What if I do?" Satria countered.
"Liar!" Priska scoffed.
She was certain he was just pretending, just like the others. After everything she had suffered, she had even been foolish enough to fall for a fake lease agreement. Maybe it was her shock, her trauma—whatever it was, it had made her an easy target. Mr. Joko had been so convincing that she had signed without hesitation.
"I’m a psychiatrist. I can help you—but only if you’re willing to help yourself. Pris, God didn’t create you just to give up like this," he urged.
Priska broke down, tears streaming down her face. She had no one left. Even Mother Shinta was critically ill, nearing death. Priska didn’t dare visit, afraid she’d crumble or accidentally spill the truth—the truth about what had happened to her, about the monsters who had hurt her.
"If I die, no one will care. I’m just an orphan with no one," she sobbed, struggling to breathe.
Despite being a psychiatrist, Satria felt an overwhelming need to protect this girl. He finally understood why he had felt something for Priska the moment he met her. When he looked into her eyes, he saw himself. They were both orphans, though their fates had been different. Satria had wealth and a future; Priska had only despair.
Without thinking, Satria pulled her into an embrace. He didn’t care if she resisted. But slowly, her tense shoulders softened, and she sobbed into his chest.
"I can love you if you let me. I can give you the love you never had. I promise," Satria whispered.
Priska buried her face in his shoulder. This time, she wanted to believe. She hugged him back. Maybe—just maybe—Satria was the knight who had finally come to save her.
"Please promise me you won’t try to end your life again." He stroked her hair gently.
 
--- The End ---
NB:
Thank you for reading. This book has a sequel.
If you're interested in Giska & Aldo's love story, please read my book titled 'The Case of Love.'
FYI, all my English books are actually interconnected. Please check my profile for more details. ^^