That day, he took Serafim to his small workshop. There, Serafim offered to help. Although Pak Arman was initially hesitant, Serafim learned quickly—in a short time, he was already able to help repair an old motorcycle that usually took a whole day to fix.
At home, Nadia secretly watched Serafim; she didn't like him. Yet she couldn't deny that Serafim's presence seemed to make her father more relaxed.
That night, Serafim sat on the porch, gazing at the dark sky. Nadia, just stepping out of her room to get some water, paused to look at him.
"What are you doing outside? Aren't you coming in?" she asked coldly.
Serafim turned and smiled. "I like the night atmosphere. It's peaceful."
Nadia snorted and walked past him. But before she reached the kitchen, she heard Serafim quietly say, "Why do you always seem angry at your father?"
Nadia stopped, turned with a sharp look. "That's none of your business."
"He loves you," Serafim said softly, his eyes gentle. "He just doesn't know how to show it."
Nadia fell silent. Those simple words felt piercing.
"I know he has flaws," Serafim continued. "But he's always thinking of you. Even more than himself."
Nadia didn't reply. She just turned and went back to her room, but his words echoed in her mind.
Serafim grew used to his daily routine in the workshop, fixing all sorts of complex machine problems. Nadia, who initially felt awkward around him, began to get used to Serafim and saw him as someone reliable. Serafim treated Nadia with care, listening to her stories about school and daily life.
After work, Nadia sat in the living room with Serafim.
"Why do you like helping my dad so much? He… never really cares about others," Nadia asked softly, full of wonder.
Serafim shrugged and smiled lightly. "Sometimes, someone just needs to see goodness in their life to find the right path. Your dad is strong, but he's also tired, Nad. Sometimes, he just needs help."
"He never cared about me," Nadia replied sadly.
"Tomorrow is your birthday, right? Pak Arman asked me to close the workshop early tomorrow," Serafim said, offering hope.
"Really?" Nadia answered happily.
Nadia woke up full of hope. Today was her 17th birthday; she had been happy since last night when Serafim told her that her father promised to come home early. And indeed, around noon, her father sent a message saying he wanted to have dinner together.
Serafim came home earlier and helped Nadia prepare a small party in the living room. They baked a simple cake and decorated the room with balloons and ribbons.
"This will be a fun day, Nad," Serafim said, trying to cheer her up.
But as the night grew late, Pak Arman still hadn't come home. Nadia felt disappointed and hurt. At nine o'clock, she took the initiative to call her father, but the phone only rang unanswered.
When Pak Arman's motorcycle was finally heard entering the yard, Nadia ran to the door. She saw her father entering the house, looking tired and worn out. Nadia, who had still hoped for the birthday event, exploded in anger.
"Why does Dad always put work before me? Don't you realize how long I've been waiting?" Nadia shouted.
Pak Arman put down his bag, looking confused. "Nad, Dad—"
"No excuses!" Nadia held back tears. "You promised to come home early, look at the time now! Do you even care?"
Pak Arman wanted to explain, but Nadia's words were already too late. She ran to her room and slammed the door shut.
The next day, Nadia felt as if the world was against her. She found a stack of letters marked as debt bills—quite a lot. Her eyes fell on names she didn't recognize.
"What… what is this?" Nadia muttered, reading each letter in front of her.
She paused, realizing her father had accumulated a huge debt. She thought it was all because of his negligence in managing the workshop's needs.
Serafim, who had been quietly observing, could only sigh. He knew Nadia was very confused and angry. But Serafim also knew there was a reason behind all this that hadn't been revealed yet.
With her emotions overflowing, Nadia left the house without telling her father. She felt she didn't want to deal with anything related to him anymore.
After a few days, Serafim found Nadia at the city park. Her face looked weary, full of anger and disappointment.
"I can't go home, Serafim. My dad doesn't care about me," Nadia said hoarsely.
"But you have to know, Nad, your father needs you more than ever right now," Serafim answered gently.
Then Serafim handed her a medical diagnosis letter from the hospital. With a pounding heart, Nadia opened the letter: late-stage lung cancer.
Shock overwhelmed Nadia's heart. "What… what does this mean? Why did Dad never tell me?"
Serafim gently patted her back. "He didn't want you to know because you'd be very sad and worried. Right now, Pak Arman is in the hospital. While you were gone, he searched for you everywhere nonstop until he was exhausted. That made his condition worse."
Nadia was silent, tears streaming uncontrollably. "I hate Dad, Serafim…"
Serafim looked at her attentively, then said, "Maybe you should remember the beautiful memories you shared. That might bring you back to him."
Serafim opened his bag and gave her a worn-out photo album he had brought from home. He showed photos of Nadia and her father's memories together. They smiled together—Nadia remembered when her father taught her how to ride a bike, looking for shells on the beach, and having dinner in a simple dining room. All these made Nadia feel the love she had long forgotten.
Finally, Nadia came to the hospital. She saw her father lying weakly in the hospital bed, his face very pale, his body connected to IV drips and breathing aids.
Pak Arman, hearing someone's presence beside him, tried to open his eyes slowly and smiled weakly when he saw Nadia.
"Forgive me, Nad. Everything I did was only for you and your future. Actually, the debt bills you saw belonged to your mother. Your mother left many debts that I don't even know what for. I tried to pay them off so you could live peacefully. I didn't tell you this so you wouldn't think badly of your mother. This is my responsibility as the head of the family."
Nadia held her father's hand tightly, tears uncontrollable. "I should be the one apologizing, Dad. I didn't know how hard you fought."
Facing the harsh truth, Nadia could only hug her father tightly, hoping the time they had left together was still long.
After leaving the hospital, Nadia started helping her father in the workshop. Every afternoon, they spent time together, repairing machines and talking about many things. Pak Arman taught Nadia the workshop skills he had and how to manage the business to keep it afloat. Nadia was quite clever; she understood everything easily. They laughed together, talked about the future, and shared beautiful memories.
When the time came, Serafim was by Pak Arman's side—but this time it was different. He appeared in his true form—with beautiful glowing wings. Nadia was quite shocked by this; she collapsed weakly from what she saw and cried bitterly.
"I came here because a woman who feels very guilty toward her family asked for my help. She asked me to fix the misunderstanding between you two. Now, the time has come for Pak Arman, Nadia," Serafim said softly.
Then Pak Arman took his last breath after a long struggle against his illness. Serafim carried Pak Arman toward the eternal light.
"I have finished this task," Serafim said.
Pak Arman smiled and looked at Nadia one last time. "Thank you for helping me. I just want Nadia to live a better life."
Serafim nodded, then took Pak Arman away toward the light that illuminated their path.
Nadia now lives with stronger determination. She continues the workshop her father built from nothing. Every time she works, sweet memories of her father always come back. She knows, even though her father is gone, she still feels close to him.
***