Nathan stared at the screen, his vision blurring as his eyes filled with tears.
"Maria is Mama. And Mikael Sebastian… that's my real name? (Wait)
That was my name before I became Papa's child?
And Dominggus Tallo… he's not my family's hero. He's the invader.
Nathan lowered his head in silence. Everything he had just seen settled slowly in his mind, like a fog that refused to lift. The wedding photos of Mama and Papa, which he had never questioned before, suddenly looked different to him. Mama's faint smile in the photo… seemed more like resignation than happiness.
"So this is why Mama looked sad? Not nervous as a bride, but heartbroken in a way she had to hold together?"
His fingers hovered over the touchpad, hesitant. But there was one more folder he hadn't fully opened. He moved the cursor back. Click.
An image file opened: a scanned ID card, its color yellowed, typical of old IDs before the digital era.
The name on it made Nathan's chest tighten.
Old ID Card
Name: Mikael Sebastian
Place/Date of Birth: Jakarta, July 1, 1985
Address: Jl. Batumerah 11, North Jakarta
Occupation: Student
Issue Year: 2002
Nathan stared at the small photo in the top right corner of the ID: a young man with a clean face, sharp eyes, and a faint smile that somehow felt familiar. Not because he resembled anyone in the house, clearly not Papa, and clearly not himself.
"So this is Bas… Mikael Sebastian. The man who always appears in Mama's photos, in this secret folder."
"The man who made Mama's eyes shine in all those memories."
Nathan scratched his head, confused. Then he looked up and let out a soft huff.
"Wait… born on July 1?"
He glanced at the calendar on his desk, then back at the screen.
"July 1, 1985. And I… July 1, 2007."
The numbers settled slowly in his mind. Not because he thought Mikael Sebastian was his biological father, he knew exactly who his father was: Dominggus Tallo. There was no doubt about that. But still… the same date? Was it a coincidence? Or… did Mama choose it on purpose?
He closed the file gently and leaned back in his chair.
There were still many unanswered questions. But one thing was now clear:
The name Mikael Sebastian was not just Mama's past.
He was a wound that had never healed.
And perhaps… the person Mama had quietly been waiting for all this time.
Nathan opened Google. He typed: "Mikael Sebastian Jakarta."
The search results appeared… most were irrelevant, some inactive social media accounts, one or two mentions in sports news articles. But one headline caught his attention:
"Teen Missing Mysteriously in North Jakarta , 2005"
He clicked.
Jakarta , A teenage boy named Mikael Sebastian (20), a second-year student in Computer Engineering at a private university in Jakarta, has been reported missing since mid-2005. According to his mother, Mikael was last seen heading to meet a close friend around the Tanjung Priok harbor area. His whereabouts remain unknown. Police have yet to find any significant leads…
Nathan froze.
"Last seen… heading to meet a close friend…"
"That close friend… Mama?"
He continued scrolling. There wasn't much news after that. The search yielded no results. Mikael's parents never gave up, but the news about him disappeared over time. Years later, his name remained only on missing persons lists.
Nathan exhaled.
"So Bas… never knew Mama got married? He might not even… know I exist."
His hands trembled as he typed the name again, hoping for another trace on social media or old forums. But it was quiet.
Suddenly, his eyes caught a link to an old blog on a site like Blogspot, the last entry dated 2004. The author's name: msebastian85.
"If this really is you… I'll find you, Bas."
From his Google research, Nathan found an old 2007 article titled "Teen Goes Missing After Visiting Port Area." The article mentioned Mikael Sebastian's full name, age 21, vanished without a trace, last seen leaving a shophouse in North Jakarta. No one knew where he went. The police declared the case a dead end.
At the bottom of the article was a small note:
If you have any information about Mikael, please contact 08xxxxxxxxxx (family).
Nathan leaned closer to the screen. The number… looked like a regular mobile number. On a whim, he saved it in his contacts, then checked WhatsApp.
The profile appeared.
Online today.
Nathan froze. "In 2003 there was no WhatsApp… but the number's still active. That means the family's been using the same number all this time?" he whispered, shivering.
He stared at the screen, torn between hesitation and urgency. The new message was still unwritten, but his chest already felt tight.
That night, Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, phone in hand. His fingers hesitated, dancing nervously over the screen before finally typing:
"Good evening. My name is Nathan Tallo. I found this number through online research. If you don't mind, I would like to ask about someone named Mikael Sebastian."
He read his message three times before hitting send. Message sent. One check mark… then two.
Nathan held his breath. A strange mix of hope, fear, and guilt surged within him, feelings he couldn't quite understand.
The phone stayed silent. He waited for several minutes, staring at the screen, hoping the dots of a reply would appear. But an hour passed with no change. No sign that anyone on the other end was typing. No response.
Past midnight, Nathan slowly placed the phone on the bedside table.
Two check marks. But silence.
He lay back, staring at the dark ceiling. The ticking of the clock sounded louder than usual.
In his mind, the name Mikael Sebastian echoed, leaving more questions than answers.
—
Nathan didn't have to go to school since the National Exams were over, even though the graduation announcements hadn't been released yet. That morning, he chose to help Opa in the yard, trimming vines that had begun to overrun the fence.
The morning breeze lightly ruffled his hair as he picked up dry leaves, while Opa was busy moving flower pots.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps came from inside the house. Oma appeared, looking tense, holding the phone.
"Pa! We need to go to Kezia's school. Her teacher just called, she got into a fight with a friend!"
Opa reflexively put down his gardening tools and went inside to clean up and change.
"I'll come too, Oma," Nathan said quickly. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, then pulled his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants. "Just a sec, I'll order a taxi first."
Oma only nodded briefly, her expression still full of concern. Nathan knew that if Kezia had really fought, it must be serious, his little sister wasn't the type to pick fights. Or… maybe she was hiding a problem.
On the way to school, the taxi moved steadily through the morning traffic that was starting to thicken. Nathan sat in the back with Oma, while Opa rode up front, leaning against the seat as he watched the road.
"I don't understand," Opa grumbled, his voice low but heavy with emphasis. He drew a long breath. "Boys never like fighting. It's the girls who imitate their father. At home, they always bother their younger siblings, and at school, they cause trouble too."
Nathan stayed silent. He understood what Opa meant, they all knew who 'their father' referred to. Though never mentioned directly, there was an anger that never fully faded in the old man's tone whenever he spoke about Papa.
"Well, it's puberty, Pa," Oma tried to soothe. "Maybe she's just hard to manage. But that doesn't mean she's necessarily bad."
"But why fight? At that age… she should already know the difference between play and violence," Opa continued, his voice restrained. "If it were a boy, I might understand. But Kezia?"
Nathan looked down at his dark phone screen. His mind wandered, about Kezia secretly crying because she feared he'd leave, about the mysterious WhatsApp message that hadn't been answered, and about the folder full of secrets on that old laptop.
Outside, the gates of his junior high alma mater came into view. The pastel-colored building still felt familiar, even though he was no longer a student there. But today, he returned not as a student, but as an older brother, about to witness a small fragment of his sister's turbulent adolescent life.
—