Page 58 - B. Ing_Antologi Cerpen Xl-6

and I were the only ones left. Every day, I struggled to

keep alive the dream we had built together, even as that
hope grew dimmer.

When May arrived, the difficult times we faced

became even more intense. On the streets, crowds started

to form, shouting in anger, reflecting the growing despair
among the people. The government’s inability to find

solutions only deepened public frustration and rage.
Amid the chaos, we were forced to close our bakery. The

street in front of the shop was filled with protesters

seeking justice and hope in the darkness of that era.

I couldn’t do much. Some people began throwing
stones at the bakery, and soon the glass windows

shattered. Tables and chairs were overturned. Many of
our goods were damaged or stolen. But there was one

thing that seemed untouched by the chaos: the large

oven, the pride of my mother. She always said it was a
symbol of her dreams and hard work. I could only look at

it, feeling empty, realizing that the dream my mother had
built so painstakingly was now in ruins.

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