That night, the air in Jogja felt dry and bone-chillingly cold, making every breath Arya took seem to cut through a thin, freezing mist. The night wind slipped through the gaps between buildings, rustling dry leaves across the yard and brushing against his skin with a sharp sting that made the hair on his neck stand on end. But Arya only shrugged. The exhaustion gnawing at his body was far stronger than the cold itself.
His steps felt heavy as he climbed the stairs, each lift of his foot seeming to resist the weight of his own body. His muscles demanded rest after every last bit of energy had been drained from him. Earlier, Dio had worked him mercilessly, forcing him to neutralize every corner beneath a bridge. Every inch of Arya's body had been pushed to release all the aura he possessed, pressing him beyond his physical and mental limits. Even so, his anger still burned, swirling in his chest like embers that refused to die. He was furious with himself for feeling like he hadn't done it perfectly—and, of course, furious with Dio for forcing him to finish the task in a scolding tone, as if Arya wasn't capable enough or worthy of trust.
When he reached his bedroom door, Arya paused, drawing in a long breath that fogged in the cold night air. He glanced left, then right, instinctively sensing that something was off. A strange unease made the hair on his arms rise, but his body was too exhausted to push himself to unravel that suspicion any further. His breathing was heavy, his steps weak, yet with the last of his strength, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
The room was still dark and silent, almost swallowing the sound of his footsteps. Shadows in the corners looked like creatures waiting in silence, but Arya brushed aside the faint fear that crept up on him. He turned on the light, and a soft yellow glow spread out, driving the darkness from every corner. The oppressive atmosphere eased slightly, though his body remained tense.
He hung his jacket behind the door with a lazy motion, as if desperate to shed the weight of the day. But when he turned toward the window in the corner of the room, his gaze froze.
Rika was standing there—her back to him.
Her fists were clenched, her muscles taut, and the aura of anger radiating from her was so intense it seemed to fill the air, weighing down the room with layers of tension.
Arya swallowed, his heart pounding faster than usual. His body was exhausted, but that fatigue now mixed with a sharp awareness: no matter how badly he wanted to let everything go, this situation couldn't be ignored. Rika stood motionless with her back turned, like a storm ready to erupt, and Arya could only stand there, watching, knowing this night would not be easy.
"Are you… okay?" Arya asked casually, though he couldn't hide the hint of confusion in his voice. He looked at Rika's back, her figure half-wrapped in the warm light of the room, which still wasn't enough to dispel the tension hanging in the air. The silence felt suffocating, as if the room itself was holding its breath, waiting for the words that hadn't yet been spoken.
"Okay? Why didn't you come?" Rika's voice was soft, almost a whisper, yet each word carried weight—like anger tightly restrained in her chest, waiting for an explosion that never came. The tone made Arya fall silent for a moment. He swallowed, trying to grasp the meaning behind her words, but confusion still clouded his thoughts. His heart beat faster as he realized this wasn't just a simple question.
"Come? Come where?" Arya asked, sharpening his gaze toward her, trying to catch a trace of emotion behind her cold stance. But he couldn't fully read her, and uncertainty lingered in the air.
"You know… Dinda and I waited for you on campus until evening. I… I hoped you would come," Rika said, her irritation growing, her voice trembling and cracking—revealing the disappointment she had been holding back with all her strength. Slowly, she turned toward Arya, her eyes glistening as if on the verge of tears, her face etched with deep hurt, like someone exhausted from holding onto a small, unseen betrayal. "Why didn't you come? Answer me!" she shouted, her voice shaking yet forced to remain firm, making the air around them seem to vibrate with her anger.
Arya swallowed again. His body felt hot despite the piercing cold of the Jogja night. His chest felt heavy, and every word he wanted to say felt choked inside his throat. "Ah… I… earlier I went with Dio to train," he replied hoarsely. He glanced briefly toward the corner of the room, his gaze empty but weighed down with guilt, as if searching for an excuse that might calm both himself and Rika.
"So what exactly is your purpose here in Jogja? Why don't you think about your future at all?" Rika asked, her voice firm now, almost shouting, though she was still holding herself back. Each word pierced like needles, stabbing into Arya's awareness and forcing him to bow his head even lower. It felt as though every sentence clung to his skin, pressing down, forcing him to face the guilt he had long tried to ignore.
"My future? Do you think I'm just messing around?" Arya shot back, defensive, though his tone lacked conviction. He let his body fall onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to steady himself, trying to push away the pressure crushing his chest. But his eyes couldn't truly shut out Rika's stare—demanding, disappointed, and filled with expectation.
Silence descended once more, broken only by their breathing and the uneven pounding of Arya's heart. The air thickened, carrying Rika's disappointment and Arya's guilt within the same narrow space. That night wasn't just dark—it felt alive with piled-up emotions, creating a tension that couldn't be ignored, wrapping them both in a circle of feelings that had yet to find a way out.
Seeing Arya's indifference, Rika bit her lip hard, holding back the mix of anger and disappointment raging in her chest. Her breath hitched for a moment, as if restraining emotions ready to explode. Her eyes swept across the room, searching for even a flicker of Arya's attention, but all she found was his apathy, deepening the ache in her heart. Taking a deep breath, steadying the trembling in her hands and knees, she slowly stepped back and left Arya's boarding-house room just like that, leaving Arya lying on the bed.
Arya remained frozen, his eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. His hands clenched unconsciously, his nails digging into his own skin without him realizing it. His thoughts echoed in the silence of the room. What does she really think? When I'm… I'm trying, he murmured softly. The words nearly drowned in the quiet, yet each one struck him like a blow, reminding him that good intentions and hard effort were not always enough to bridge the gap between someone else's hopes and their disappointment.
Outside, the night breeze moved swiftly, whispering through the gaps between buildings and creating a soft rustling among the small leaves in the yard. Only a few people were still visible on the street, their steps hurried, their bodies wrapped in the bone-deep cold. The night felt eerily still, as if the world itself was holding its breath, making room for a loneliness that grew heavier by the moment.
On the rooftop of Arya's boarding house, Rika sat alone, her body curled inward beneath the darkness of the night. The distant city lights were nothing more than faint dots, too weak to pierce the loneliness pressing down on her. Her loose hair was swept by the night wind, and tears slid silently down her cheeks, leaving wet trails that seemed to write her pain across her skin. She lowered her head, staring at her fingers folded in her lap, as if holding the weight of the world in her hands, searching for answers to a pain too heavy to be put into words.
"Idiot… why is he always like that?… I hope there's still time," Rika whispered, her voice nearly swallowed by the sighing night wind across the rooftop. The words left her lips carrying a mix of anger, disappointment, and unspoken loss—like fragments of emotion scattered into the air. She knew her voice was only a faint echo, disappearing into the darkness, unable to reach Arya's ears far below.
She pulled her knees closer, curling in on herself beneath the night sky. Her fingers tightened around her legs, drawing them toward her chest, as if that could somehow hold together a heart slowly crumbling under disappointment. Her breathing grew heavy, soft and uneven, each breath an effort to restrain the turmoil threatening to burst from within. From time to time, the wind blew her hair across her tear-stained cheeks, leaving a cold trace that made her skin shiver.
In the distance, the dark night sky hung like a velvet curtain over the sleeping city. Small stars flickered faintly, dim against the deep black, deepening the sense of solitude that wrapped around her. The distant sounds of the city drifted softly—cars, motorbikes, footsteps far away—only emphasizing the distance between Rika and the world around her. The night wind carried the scent of rain yet to fall, seeping into her skin and hair, spreading a chill that reached her bones, blending seamlessly with the loneliness gnawing at her heart.
Rika remained still, letting the tears fall slowly and soundlessly, allowing the night to become the sole witness to her disappointment, longing, and unspoken hopes. She lowered her gaze to her palms, now wet with tears, as if searching for answers she knew she would never find. Her shadow trembled faintly on the rooftop in the wind, but she didn't care—she simply let herself sink into the silence, holding onto feelings too heavy to be released.
Every passing second felt slow and tense, as though the night itself were holding its breath, making space for pain and waiting that had yet to find an end. Rika knew that even though Arya was below, even though the distance between them was only a few meters, she was still alone—trapped between love, disappointment, and fragile hope, perhaps forever misunderstood by the one she was waiting for.