Alter My Fate

(Hadiyaksa Hospital)

A long, piercing beep cut through the silence of the ICU, marking the end of Havian Shahreza's life. Known to most as Havi, his existence had come to its final, unceremonious conclusion.

Inspector Wildan and Mrs. Nuriana arrived moments too late, their expressions burdened with futility as the attending physician pronounced Havi's death.

The clock read 10:45 a.m., a mere ten minutes after he had been rushed to RS Hadiyaksa, where the medical staff had fought valiantly but in vain to resuscitate him.

With the doctor's solemn permission, the pair stepped into the sterile confines of the ICU. Havi's body lay motionless, his ashen face now a canvas of stillness as nurses busied themselves preparing his remains.

The scent of antiseptic hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint trace of mortality that seemed to linger in every corner of the room.

Mrs. Nuriana, her poised demeanour barely concealing the tremor in her voice, approached one of the nurses. "Might we.. have a moment?" she asked, her tone laced with the quiet authority that came with her status as one of Telaga City's wealthiest figures.

The nurse, recognising her at once, offered a deferential nod and stepped aside. Mrs. Nuriana moved closer to Havi's body, her eyes softening with something that lay between pity and resignation.

Inspector Wildan, standing silently at the foot of the bed, offered his own muted condolences in the privacy of his thoughts.

His mind flickered to the past, recalling the many times Havi, a habitual offender, had crossed paths with the law. Yet, in this moment, all such reflections seemed trivial against the unyielding stillness of death.

This was not the ending anyone had foreseen, but here it was, irrevocable and final. Life, in all its fragility, had been snuffed out, leaving behind only questions, regrets, and the weight of unfinished stories.

At that time, Inspector Wildan, who also dabbled in livestock farming as a side endeavour, found himself ensnared in the throes of managerial chaos.

His business, once a modest but promising venture, teetered precariously on the brink of ruin. Frustrated and bereft of solutions, he confided in Havi, a man whose reputation as a repeat offender had never suggested the depth of wisdom he carried.

Havi, with a calm yet astute demeanour, proposed a series of small but significant changes to Wildan's management system.

Though initially hesitant, after all, the advice came from a convicted criminal. Wildan found himself compelled to act. What choice did he have, after all?

To his astonishment, within a mere week of implementing Havi's suggestions, his business underwent a remarkable transformation. Processes were streamlined, inefficiencies eradicated, and profits began to rise.

The success was nothing short of miraculous. Wildan's employees, once sceptical of the changes, now lauded him for his ingenuity, unaware that the credit lay not with their employer but with the unlikeliest of advisors.

Wildan, however, was a man of honesty and humility. He made no effort to claim the glory for himself and instead openly attributed the revival of his enterprise to Havi's insights.

The revelation sparked intrigue among his colleagues at the precinct. Many were incredulous that a man like Havi, whose name was more often found in police reports than in conversations about ingenuity, had orchestrated such a turnaround.

Yet, curiosity soon overcame their disbelief. Officers who themselves struggled with their own small ventures began to approach Havi, cautiously at first, seeking his advice.

Havi, ever pragmatic and sharp, listened intently to their woes before offering tailored solutions to each predicament. His advice, as with Wildan, proved transformative.

Ventures that had once seemed destined for failure began to flourish, and whispers of Havi's unexpected brilliance spread like wildfire.

It was a paradox, almost poetic in its irony. A man condemned by society for his past misdeeds, now lauded for his uncanny acumen. Havi's troubled history did little to diminish the respect he earned in those final months of his life.

Even in death, his legacy lingered a testament to the complex duality of human nature and the profound impact of wisdom, regardless of its source.

It was Havi's brilliance and unexpected benevolence that earned him a shorter sentence. In an extraordinary gesture of gratitude, the authorities facilitated his early release, recognising the remarkable ways in which his insights had impacted those around him.

Upon stepping out of his confinement, Havi was met with earnest advice from the very officers who had once arrested him. They implored him to abandon his former ways and channel his intelligence into honest endeavours.

Some suggested he find steady employment, others encouraged him to start a small business, certain that his sharp mind could lead him to a respectable and prosperous life.

But Havi, ever the enigma, greeted their well-intentioned words with little more than a knowing smirk.

He had grown far too accustomed to the life he led a life marked by its chaos and unpredictability, where rules were made to be bent, if not outright broken.

The thought of surrendering to the monotony of conformity held no allure for him.

Though the officers' advice was given with genuine care, Havi dismissed it with a quiet stubbornness that seemed to define his very essence.

The world they envisioned for him, with its rigid structures and predictable patterns, felt suffocating to a man who thrived in the margins.

And so, despite their hopes for his redemption, Havi chose the familiar shadows of his old life.

It was a choice that confounded and saddened those who had come to admire his brilliance, yet it was a choice that was undeniably his own a reflection of the profound complexity of a man who could not be bound by the expectations of others.

Inspector Wildan recounted fragments of his time with Havi, his voice tinged with a quiet melancholy. Mrs. Nuriana listened intently, her usually composed expression softening as tears welled up unbidden, cascading silently down her cheeks.

Mrs. Nuriana, a woman of striking beauty and formidable wealth, stood transfixed. At forty-five, she had long resigned herself to a life of independence, unmarred by the complications of romance.

Yet now, standing before the lifeless figure of Havi, she felt an uncharacteristic ache stir within her a bittersweet blend of sorrow and admiration, tinged with the faintest glimmer of something more profound.

How she wished she could turn back the clock. She longed to return to that moment, fleeting and sharp, when Havi had reached for her handbag with a thief's instinct.

If only she had seized his hand, stopped him, and implored him to abandon his reckless course. Perhaps then, this tragedy might never have unfolded. But the past lay fixed, immovable. All she could do now was whisper her prayers to a silent room.

'Oh, Lord... If only I could have known this man, truly known him. For the first time, I feel love's peculiar pang, directed at a soul glimpsed only in passing.'

'Oh, Lord... Even in death, this man seems so achingly perfect, so complete. Why have You taken him from this world, from me, before we had a chance to meet as we should have done?'

'Oh, Lord... Grant me one chance, just one. Turn back the hands of time to that fateful moment, or to a time long before it, when his path and mine might have crossed more gently. Let me meet him anew, free of the shadows that burdened him. Let me know him, and let him know me.'

The weight of her emotions overwhelmed her, and Mrs. Nuriana, usually poised and self-assured, sank to her knees before Havi's still form. Bowing her head, she clasped her hands together, a quiet supplication against the finality of death.

Her tears fell silently, each one a testament to the complex and inescapable yearning of the human heart. A yearning for love, for understanding, and for the chance that was forever out of reach.

Inspector Wildan stood silently, his gaze fixed upon Mrs. Nuriana as she knelt beside Havi's lifeless body.

Her composure, once the hallmark of her formidable reputation, had shattered entirely, leaving in its wake a raw vulnerability that was both startling and deeply poignant.

'What has come over her?' Wildan mused, his thoughts racing. "This is not the Mrs. Nuriana I have heard of the woman admired for her strength, her intellect, and her unyielding determination. Could it be... could she truly have fallen in love with Havi? And if so, how extraordinary, how tragically ironic, that she would give her heart to a man whose life was marked by such chaos and misfortune".

'The notion left him uneasy. Mrs. Nuriana, the object of admiration for countless suitors of renown, had remained steadfastly unattached for years. Those who sought her hand were men of power and influence, men who commanded respect across the city and beyond. Yet here she was, her tears falling freely for a man society had labelled a common criminal'.

'If they knew,' Wildan thought grimly, 'if those men-wealthy, accomplished, and proud-knew that she mourned for Havi, what chaos might ensue? How would they reconcile the idea that their offers of devotion were eclipsed by a mere thief? The world, it seems, is a place of infinite paradoxes'.

As he studied her face, he saw no trace of pity-no mere sadness for a life lost too soon. What he saw was something far deeper, the anguished longing of a woman whose heart had been irreparably touched.

Her sharp, commanding eyes, once symbols of her strength, now shimmered with the unmistakable pain of loss, as though she had been separated from her soul's equal.

Wildan, seasoned by years of investigative work, understood the human heart better than most. It was his skill to unearth hidden motives and uncover buried truths.

And now, there was no doubt in his mind. What Mrs. Nuriana felt was not sympathy for the dead, but love-pure, unguarded, and entirely unbidden.

"Inspector," her voice broke the silence, soft yet resolute. "Does this man, Havi... does he have any family left? Parents? Siblings?"

Wildan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "To the best of our knowledge, no. Havi was an only child. His parents passed away many years ago. He has no surviving relatives, as far as we've been able to determine. He... lived as he could, by his own means."

She lowered her gaze, her shoulders trembling as fresh tears fell. "How cruel life has been to him," she whispered. "A man alone in the world, fighting only to survive. It's unbearable to think of."

Wildan nodded silently, unable to refute her words. Havi's life had indeed been a tapestry woven with hardship and resilience, his choices shaped as much by circumstance as by his own hand.

For a moment, the room was filled only with the quiet hum of the monitors and the muffled sounds of the hospital.

Then, with a deep, steadying breath, Mrs. Nuriana rose to her feet. She wiped her tears with trembling hands and gestured to the nurses, her voice calm but distant.

"You may continue now," she said softly, stepping aside to let them resume their solemn duties.

Wildan watched her in silence, a mix of admiration and sorrow swelling within him. Mrs. Nuriana, for all her wealth and power, had shown a depth of emotion he had not expected.

A profound and unguarded love for a man the world had judged unworthy. And yet, in that moment, she seemed more human, more vulnerable, and more extraordinary than ever before.

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