The next morning, Siti woke earlier than usual, the envelope of her first salary tucked carefully into her sling bag. She had decided last night what to do with part of the money. The thought filled her with a quiet excitement, a spark of joy that carried her through her morning routine.
After finishing her bread and tea, she cycled into town. The shops had just opened, and the toy store by the corner smelled faintly of fresh plastic and cardboard. Inside, shelves were stacked with dolls, toy cars, puzzles, and stuffed animals.
Siti stood frozen at first, her eyes wide at the rainbow of choices. She thought of Aina and the way she always hugged an old, worn-out teddy bear. She thought of the boys who loved football, of the children who crowded around her during storytime.
Carefully, she chose a small set of toy cars, a soft teddy bear, and a box of building blocks. Nothing too big, but enough to bring smiles. When she handed over the money at the counter, her heart swelled with pride. This wasn't money given to her. This was money she had earned, and now she was using it to give something back to the family she had found.
---
When she arrived at the orphanage, the children immediately surrounded her as usual, tugging her hands and calling her name.
"What's in the bag, Kak Siti?" Aina asked, her eyes shining with curiosity.
Siti grinned. "A surprise."
In the main hall, she opened the bag and pulled out the toys. Gasps of delight filled the air.
"For us?" one of the boys asked in disbelief.
"Yes," Siti said softly, her cheeks glowing. "For all of you. You've given me so much happiness… I wanted to give something back."
The children erupted in cheers, rushing to grab the toys, their laughter bouncing off the walls. Aina clutched the new teddy bear tightly, her eyes wet with tears of joy. "Thank you, Kak Siti," she whispered.
At that moment, Siti felt more complete than she ever had.
---
Later that afternoon, while the children were busy playing, Safura called Siti aside. They sat on a bench under the shade of a tree in the orphanage yard.
"Siti," Safura began carefully, "the toys you bought… you used your salary money, didn't you?"
Siti nodded, her smile still lingering. "Yes. It felt right."
Safura hesitated, then said, "But didn't you tell me before that your parents gave you an ATM card? Why don't you use that money for things like this, instead of your hard-earned salary?"
Siti's smile faded. She looked down at her hands. "I… can't. I don't have the PIN number. My parents never gave it to me."
For a moment, there was silence. Then Safura's voice sharpened, full of disbelief and anger. "What? They gave you a bank card but didn't give you the PIN? How are you supposed to use it?"
Siti flinched at the harshness of her tone. She had never seen Safura angry before.
"They said they would keep sending money… but without the PIN, I can't touch it," Siti whispered. "I tried once, at the ATM. It didn't work."
Safura's fists tightened on her lap. "That's irresponsible. They left you alone in that house, gave you a card you can't even use, and expected you to survive? That's not how parents should treat their child."
Siti's chest tightened. She wanted to defend her parents, but the truth was too heavy. They hadn't come home in over a year. They hadn't called. They had only sent money, as if that were enough.
"Do you… know their phone number?" Safura asked gently, softening her tone when she saw Siti's tears gathering.
"Yes," Siti admitted.
"Then give it to me. I want to talk to them."
Siti shook her head quickly. "No. Please, don't. They'll be angry. They'll think I can't handle things."
Safura leaned closer, her eyes full of determination. "Siti, this isn't about you not being strong. It's about your parents doing their duty. You're just a child—you shouldn't have to carry this alone. Please, let me call them."
Siti hugged her arms around herself. She didn't want anyone to scold her parents. A part of her still longed for their love, still believed they would come home one day if she just waited. But another part of her, the part that had grown stronger these past weeks, knew Safura was right.
After a long silence, Siti pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her bag. On it was the phone number she had memorized long ago. Her hands shook as she handed it over.
"Please… don't be too harsh," she whispered.
Safura squeezed her hand gently. "I'll do what's right."
---
Inside the office, Safura dialed the number while Siti sat quietly in the corner, her heart pounding. The line rang, once, twice, then clicked.
"Hello?" It was her father's voice, distant, formal.
"This is Safura," she said firmly. "I'm calling from Rumah Kasih Sayang. I'm with your daughter, Siti."
There was a pause. "Oh… Siti. How is she?"
"How is she?" Safura repeated, her voice rising with controlled anger. "She's eleven years old, living alone in a house with no parents, no support, and a bank card she can't even use because you never gave her the PIN. What kind of responsibility is that?"
On the other end, silence stretched. Finally, her father muttered, "We… we thought it was enough to send money."
"Money means nothing if the child can't use it," Safura snapped. "Do you know how hard she's been struggling? Do you know she tried to use the ATM and failed because of your negligence?"
Siti shrank into her chair, tears spilling down her cheeks. She hated hearing her parents spoken of this way, but she also knew every word Safura said was true.
After a long exchange, her father sighed. "Fine. The PIN is 2446. We should have told her earlier. Tell Siti we'll… send her more soon."
"That's not enough," Safura said sharply. "You need to remember she's your daughter, not just an account to transfer money to. But for now—thank you for at least giving her the PIN."
She ended the call, her face still tense.
---
Safura turned to Siti, her expression softening again. She knelt in front of her. "Tomorrow, I'll go with you to the ATM. We'll check the account together, and I'll teach you how to use it properly. You deserve to know what you have."
Siti wiped her tears with the back of her hand. "Thank you, Kak Safura. I… I was so scared to ask them. I thought maybe it wasn't meant for me."
Safura pulled her into a hug. "It is meant for you, Siti. And I promise—I'll make sure you're never left alone in this again."
For the first time, Siti felt like someone was truly standing up for her.
That night, when she returned home, she placed the toys' empty bag on her desk and the crumpled paper with the PIN inside her wooden box. Tomorrow, she would see what her parents had left for her. But tonight, she let herself feel a flicker of safety, knowing that Safura would be by her side.