Beside the small bed, there was a father on the verge of collapse. Mr. Dani, Sheyna’s father, was a traveling meatball and tofu vendor.

Every day, he walked from morning to evening, enduring exhaustion to bring home a living.

His income was uncertain, often only around Rp 40,000, and he often came home with nothing at all.

But for the sake of his child, Mr. Dani never stopped trying. He even pawned his only motorcycle registration certificate so Sheyna could continue living a decent life. He knew that if he gave up too late, his child’s life would be in grave danger.

Sheyna was only one year old. Yet, her life had been spent confined to a bed, not playing, laughing, or learning to walk like other toddlers.

Sheyna couldn’t move. She couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t cry like other children her age. All she could do was blink, barely able to muster the strength she had and with great weakness.

A few months after birth, Sheyna’s body had changed. Her head was slowly enlarging, while her small body was growing weaker. Her body was thin and skeletal, disproportionate to her head, which grew steadily larger by the day.

Whenever discomfort arose, Sheyna remained silent. No screams. No loud cries. Only tears slowly welled up from the corners of her eyes.

Sheyna couldn’t even drink like other toddlers. She couldn’t breastfeed or drink on her own. Milk could only be delivered through a tube inserted into her small body.

Her days were spent lying weak, staring at the ceiling, while her body grew stiff and fragile.

The toddler who should have been nestled in her parents’ laps, laughing, was now only surviving from day to day.