The digital meter beeped impatiently, demanding more credit. Twice already, Hira had purchased electricity tokens through mobile banking, but each time the long series of numbers failed to register.
"Looks like the digits are short, Teh," said A Jay, offering a quick excuse. "Wait, I'll grab one of my old receipts."
He disappeared into his room and returned with a crumpled slip.
"See? It should be twenty digits," he explained, showing her the paper.
Hira glanced at it, but it wasn't the numbers that caught her eye. It was the name printed across the top:
Alexander Billy Dharmawan.
A quiet hum escaped her lips. That name instantly etched itself into her memory.
She looked again at her own token purchase. Sure enough—four digits were hidden in the overflow of characters. Once copied into a new document, the full code appeared. She entered it into the meter, and the beeping stopped at last.
"Thank you, A," she said softly.
☯☯☯
His full name was Wijaya, though everyone called him A*) Jay. He was Mrs. Yulia's assistant as well as the boarding house's all-around caretaker. Anything related to the tenants passed through him first. Rarely did Mrs. Yulia herself descend from her upstairs world.
From mopping corridors to cleaning the koi pond in the main house, from tending the garden to maintaining the hydroponic farm on the third floor—A Jay handled it all. His work began at eight in the morning and ended at five in the evening.
He was quiet, efficient, and methodical. At home, he was the ideal husband: helping his wife cook, bathing their only daughter, sharing the burdens of daily life.
His wife, Viny, was a sharp-minded woman from Garut. Though she hadn't gone beyond junior high, her wit was quick, her emotions tender, and her confidence steady. Together, they made a balanced pair—strong where the other was weak. Their daughter, Winda, four years old, was as bright and expressive as her parents. Her laughter and cries filled the house with life; without her, the place felt hollow.
They lived in the room at the far end of the boarding house—the same one that bore the sign: "Guests Must Report."
Viny once told Hira that the room had originally been designed as a small shop for tenants' daily needs. But with so many neighborhood stalls already nearby, Mrs. Yulia had scrapped the idea, choosing instead to support local vendors.
☯☯☯
The third floor was Hira's favorite place—the hydroponic garden.
Here, rows of vegetables thrived: bok choy, lettuce, kale, pagoda greens, all sprouting in neat lines from white PVC pipes through which water continuously flowed. The cool mountain air of Malangbong nourished them.
The entire system had been built by A Jay himself—from water installations and pipe construction to planting, harvesting, weighing, packaging, and even selling. Mrs. Yulia simply enjoyed the results.
On the west side, A Jay had also built a sturdy clothesline, wide enough for all tenants to use. Everything in this place bore his touch.
☯☯☯
One day, while on the rooftop, Hira met Bibi*), the housemaid. Bibi had worked for Mrs. Yulia for two years, living in the main house with her employer. She had a daughter and grandchild of her own, living elsewhere.
Through Viny's stories, Hira learned that Bibi had sold land in her village to finance her daughter's university studies, only for her to drop out in the final semester when got became pregnant. Now Bibi bore the financial weight of supporting both her child and grandchild.
"Lots of laundry today, Bi?" Hira asked gently.
"Yes. When the Bapak*) is home, there's always more," Bibi replied, hanging towel after towel. "Not just clothes—he changes towels every single day."
Hira's gaze lingered on the embroidered names across the fabric: military ranks. Crisp white uniforms with proud insignias hung beside them, radiating authority.
"He used to serve in Papua, with the Navy," Bibi explained, almost as if reading Hira's mind. "Now he's stationed in Jakarta. He only comes home to Bandung once a week, bringing all his laundry." She gestured at the pile with a weary smile.
"Good thing it's only once a week," Hira teased softly, leaving Bibi to her work.
She wandered back toward the eastern balcony, breathing in the mountain air. From this height, nothing blocked the view. Morning sunlight stretched over fields and rooftops, clouds drifting lazily across the sky.
The word that pressed itself upon her heart was abundance.
This place was the very image of her dream home.
She called it The House of the Rising Sun.
No connection to the song.
It just sounded… beautiful.
☯☯☯
*) A, short of AA, Sundanese means Brother
*) Bibi, Aunty
*) Bapak, Mr.