Chapter 12: Boase's Confession
That night, the wind blew gently, carrying the scent of damp earth after the evening rain. Stars began to appear in the dark sky, twinkling softly like silent witnesses to the storm of emotions raging in Saraswati's heart. She sat on the porch of her house, gazing at the quiet little street. Amara had already fallen asleep in her room, exhausted after playing all day at school. Saraswati, however, remained awake, her heart restless for no apparent reason. A deep sigh escaped her lips as she rubbed her hands together, trying to find comfort in the stillness of the night.
She missed Arman. More than she wanted to admit, more than she was willing to acknowledge. It had been months since he left, but the pain still felt fresh, like an open wound that refused to heal. There were moments when she wanted to tell him about her day, about Amara's little achievements, about how she was trying to survive without him. But the words always got stuck in her throat because she knew—he would never answer.
A sudden sound of a motorcycle pulling up in front of her gate startled her. Saraswati looked up, her heart skipping a beat as she recognized the familiar figure stepping off the vehicle—Boase Wijaya. Dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark trousers, he looked different tonight, as if he had spent hours gathering courage before coming here.
Boase hesitated before walking towards the gate, adjusting his sleeves even though they were already neat. His eyes met hers, filled with something unspoken. "Saraswati…" his voice was barely above a whisper, cautious, as though afraid to disrupt the fragile silence of the night.
Saraswati forced a small smile, though her pulse had quickened. "Good evening, Boase. What brings you here?"
Boase swallowed hard before speaking. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"
There was something in his tone—something nervous, something sincere. Saraswati hesitated, then nodded, pushing open the gate. Boase stepped inside, and they both took a seat on the wooden bench on the porch. For a long moment, the only sound between them was the distant hum of crickets and the occasional rustling of leaves in the breeze.
"There's something I need to say," Boase finally broke the silence.
Saraswati turned to him, her brows slightly furrowed. "What is it?"
Boase took a deep breath, his hands clasped together. "I've wanted to say this for a long time. From the first time I saw you at school, I knew you were a strong woman. You've been through so much, yet you endure. That… that makes me admire you."
Saraswati's fingers tightened around the fabric of her dress. The words felt like a gentle caress, and yet, they also carried a weight that unsettled her. She wasn't ready for this. Or was she?
Boase turned slightly towards her, his dark eyes searching hers. "I want you to know that I… I have feelings for you, Saraswati."
His confession echoed in her mind, rendering her momentarily speechless. Her heart pounded painfully against her ribs, and her breath hitched. She lifted her gaze, meeting Boase's eyes, which held nothing but sincerity.
Boase let out a shaky chuckle, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not asking for your answer now. I just… I just needed you to know how I feel."
Saraswati exhaled slowly, her emotions tangled in a web of fear and longing. "Boase… I don't know what to say."
Boase gave her a knowing smile, as if he had already anticipated her response. "I understand. You've been through a lot. I don't want to pressure you. I just want you to know that I'm here… if you ever need me."
Saraswati turned her face away, blinking back the sting of tears. "I'm afraid, Boase. Afraid to open my heart again. Afraid of what people will say." Her voice wavered. "I'm a widow. You know what they think of me."
Boase's expression darkened. "I know. But will you let their judgment control your happiness?"
Saraswati bit her lip, her mind tormented by conflicting thoughts. She could already hear the whispers, the pointed stares from the women in the neighborhood, the disapproving gaze of her mother-in-law.
"You're still young," her mother-in-law had once said, "I know one day you'll replace my son. But at least wait longer. Don't be so hasty."
The words had cut deep, leaving wounds that hadn't fully healed. Saraswati clenched her hands into fists. She had never intended to replace Arman. But was it truly wrong to feel comforted by someone's presence? To feel warmth in a place that had long been cold?
Boase studied her face carefully, sensing the turmoil inside her. "I don't want to take Arman's place, Saraswati. No one can. But I care for you. For Amara. And if there's even the slightest chance that I could bring you happiness, I would be grateful for it."
Tears welled in Saraswati's eyes. Her fingers trembled as she wiped them away. "But I have Amara," she whispered.
Boase's lips curled into a gentle smile. "And I know how much you love her. That's why I admire you even more. I don't want to replace her father. I only want to be someone who is there for both of you… if you'll let me."
His words seeped into the cracks of her heart, filling the empty spaces she had ignored for so long. There was no pressure in his voice, no demands—only an open hand, waiting for her to take it. But was she brave enough?
Saraswati let out a shaky breath. "I need time, Boase. I need time to figure out my feelings, to understand what I really want."
Boase nodded, a look of quiet understanding crossing his face. "I'll wait, Saraswati. No matter how long it takes."
That night, long after Boase had left, Saraswati remained on the porch, staring at the dark sky. Something inside her had shifted—something warm, something she hadn't felt in a long time. But could she truly allow herself another chance at happiness? Only time would tell.