The late afternoon sun cast golden streaks across the fields as the airplane descended into Kertajati International Airport. The cabin jolted softly as the wheels touched down, and Hana gently rocked Haru in her arms while Yui blinked drowsily on Phuby's shoulder.
It had been nearly two years since Phuby had left Indonesia to travel to Japan. Two years that felt like a dream—a whirlwind of love, change, and quiet victories. Now, as the plane taxied, he stared out the window at the familiar landscape, heart full and quiet.
They were back.
Not just him and Hana.
But also Haru Soewandi and Yui Soewandi—the children of his present, his future… and now, bearers of his past.
---
Cirebon – Toko Kue Palm Sari
The car rolled into the narrow streets of Cirebon, the scent of fried food stalls and the warm dust of the late dry season filling the air. Toko Kue Palm Sari stood proudly at the corner, looking cleaner and more organized than ever. The new signage gleamed under the sun, and the sound of laughter echoed from inside.
Mrs. Wulan rushed out the moment she saw them. Her arms stretched wide, face lit with emotion. "My son!" she cried, scooping Phuby into a tight hug, then turned to Hana and gently touched Haru's little cheek.
"Welcome home," she whispered.
Om Luky—tanned, slightly balding, and with his typical Padang-style pride—wasn't far behind. "Finally, you brought my grandchildren back to Indonesia," he grinned, lifting Yui from Phuby's arms with unexpected gentleness. "Wah… this one has your eyes," he told Hana.
Over the next two days, the family stayed in the new house connected to the shop. Friends dropped by, childhood neighbors came bearing gifts, and the small courtyard was filled with stories, laughter, and old-school Sundanese music on a speaker someone found in the back.
Hana watched it all in awe. "I understand now why you loved this place," she whispered to Phuby one night. "It's messy, but beautiful."
Phuby smiled. "Like life itself."
But there was one thing left undone. One visit Phuby knew he couldn't delay.
---
Bandung – The Journey North
Two days later, they took a quiet trip to Bandung.
Just Phuby, Hana, and the twins.
The air grew cooler as the car ascended toward Dago. The cityscape slowly gave way to pine trees, narrow hillside streets, and colonial-style homes half-covered in vines.
Phuby asked the driver to stop at a small, aged cemetery nestled on a hill—just a few minutes' walk from his paternal grandfather's old home. The family had moved out years ago, but this was still a place that carried the heavy scent of memory.
He carried Haru in one arm and held Hana's hand tightly as they walked through the rows of graves. When he reached the simple headstone bearing his father's name, his steps faltered.
The same father he had last seen in his high school years.
The same man who had passed away just a day before Phuby's final exams.
He knelt, setting Haru gently down beside him on a blanket, then sat back against his heels.
"Hey, Dad…" he began softly, brushing some fallen leaves off the grave.
His voice trembled.
"It's been… what, almost ten years? I got married. Her name's Hana. She's amazing, Dad. You'd love her. She's smart, and kind, and stubborn in the best way."
He exhaled.
"And I have a son. Haru. That's him, right here. And a daughter too—Yui. You have grandchildren now."
His breath hitched.
"I wish you could've met them."
He sat there in silence, his head bowed, the wind brushing gently through the trees.
"I wasn't a good son," he whispered, voice cracking. "I didn't understand you. I was angry. I blamed you for the things I didn't even understand myself. I know now how hard it must've been for you. You tried… and I—I never said thank you."
Tears flowed freely now, dropping onto his palms.
"I miss you, Ayah. I really, really do."
Hana knelt beside him quietly, placing a hand on his back. She said nothing, only offering her presence.
Yui, in her sling, cooed softly as if sensing the mood. Haru reached for the blades of grass at the base of the headstone.
Phuby chuckled through tears. "Look at that, Dad. Your grandson already loves nature. And your granddaughter—she's got lungs like a siren."
The three of them sat quietly for a while longer, until the sunlight began to fade and the mountain air turned cooler.
Before leaving, Phuby placed a small bouquet of tea leaves and cherry blossom petals—carefully pressed and dried from their Uji garden—at the base of the gravestone.
"A little piece of our life," he whispered. "From the home I made with Hana."
As they walked back, Hana reached out and gently laced her fingers with his.
"Thank you," she said.
"For what?"
"For bringing us here. For showing me this part of your heart."
Phuby said nothing, only squeezed her hand tightly.
---
Later That Night – Back in Cirebon
That evening, back in the warmth of the family home, Mrs. Wulan brought out old photo albums. She showed Hana pictures of Phuby as a boy—awkward, scrawny, with thick glasses and a bright smile.
"He used to help me fold cake boxes in the shop," she said proudly. "Sometimes he'd fall asleep right there in the backroom."
Hana laughed, kissing the top of Phuby's head as he groaned in embarrassment.
Even as the night grew late and the twins drifted off to sleep in the arms of their grandparents, the house was filled with something unspoken.
Closure.
Love.
And a full circle.
Phuby had returned not just to his homeland—but to the roots that shaped him.
And this time, he wasn't alone.
He had a family now.
He had peace.
And in the quiet hum of a fan and the soft laughter of loved ones, Phuby whispered one more time, as if across time and memory—
"Thank you, Dad. I'll keep trying to be a good father… the kind I think you wanted to be."