The scent of old instant coffee filled the air, mixed with the faint smell of rust and dust. The two cups sat between them on a cracked wooden table, steam curling lazily upward. Ed and Ley sat on the sagging couch, close but not touching—yet somehow the silence between them felt comforting, like a blanket pulled over two aching hearts.
Ley took a slow sip. "You still drink it black and burnt?"
Ed chuckled weakly. "Only way to feel something these days."
She smiled. "You always said that."
He glanced at her, really looked at her for the first time in a long while. Her eyes held the same warmth he remembered, but they were rimmed with exhaustion. Maybe they were all just ghosts now—haunted, half-alive.
"How long have you been surviving alone?" Ed asked.
Ley stared into her cup. "Since my brother turned. I was holed up in the hills. Tried to help people when I could. But it got worse. People became... meaner. Hungrier. Not just for food."
He nodded slowly. "It's not just the dead you have to worry about."
"I thought about you every day," she said, barely above a whisper.
He looked away, jaw tightening. "I thought I lost you."
A long silence fell between them. Outside, the wind howled through broken windows, pushing bits of ash and leaves across the floor like forgotten memories.
Then Ley spoke.
"Where's Kia?"
Ed froze.
Ley looked up at him, her eyes soft but confused. "Is she here? Is she okay?"
His lips parted, but no words came. His chest tightened as if something heavy had been dropped onto it. Slowly, he set his cup down, hands trembling.
"Ley..." he whispered, voice already breaking.
She frowned. "Ed?"
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook.
Ley reached out, placing a gentle hand on his back. "Ed, what happened?"
He looked up, eyes glassy and red. "You don't know. I thought—you didn't know…"
"Know what?"
He drew a breath that scraped his throat, then began.
"It was just a normal morning. I was late for work, like always. Kia was being her usual clingy self at the preschool gate. Hugging me like I was leaving forever. She always did that. I kissed her forehead. Told her I'd pick her up after work. We did the silly handshake she made up. Then I left."
He paused, clenching his fists. His voice trembled with every word.
"Later that day, around four... I was on my way back to get her. That's when it happened. Something… fell from the sky."
Ley's brow furrowed. "Fell?"
"A container," Ed said. "Like a pod. It crashed right into the City Hall. At first, no one knew what it was. Then screaming started. People ran from all directions. I saw some of them get crushed in the panic. Others just disappeared."
He swallowed hard.
"The preschool was near the city center, surrounded by buildings. I ran there as fast as I could. I thought she was inside. But when I got there—there were already too many people crammed in. Hiding. Crying. I shouted for her. 'Kia! Kia!' But she wasn't there."
Ley's eyes widened slightly, lips parting.
"I didn't know..." she murmured.
"I didn't know either. Until someone said the kids were playing outside before it happened. That it was their free time. The Park was just across the street. She must've been there."
He wiped his face, but tears kept coming.
"I tried to get out. I needed to get to the park. But people—they stopped me. Held me back. They said if I went out, I'd lead the infected right to them. That I'd risk everyone. They were scared. And I was just... I was just a dad."
Ley covered her mouth.
"I kept screaming, 'My daughter is outside! Please, let me go!' But no one listened. They just... held me down."
The room felt colder now, like even the walls were listening.
"Eventually, rescue came. They cleared the building, opened the doors. I didn't wait. I ran. Straight to the park."
He paused, and for a moment, he looked far away.
"There were bodies. So many. Piled up. I looked through them all. Every single one. Hands shaking. Heart screaming. Kia wasn't there."
Ley's breath hitched. "So…?"
"But I found her backpack. Her tiny pink bag with the little bear keychain. It was covered in dirt. And... blood."
He broke down again, shaking uncontrollably.
"I screamed. I screamed until my throat gave out. Until I couldn't breathe. I still hear it sometimes when I close my eyes."
Ley's eyes were glossy now too. A tear slipped down her cheek. "It can't be... not Kia…"
"I don't know if she's alive," Ed whispered. "But I never saw her body. I hold on to that. It's all I have."
Ley moved closer, wrapping her arms around him. "Ed…"
He sobbed into her shoulder like a child. She stroked his back gently, whispering softly into his ear.
"You will find her. I believe that. She's strong—just like you."
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
He pulled back slightly, eyes searching hers. "I missed you so much."
She leaned in, their foreheads touching. "I'm here now."
Outside, the dead still roamed. The world was still broken.
But in that room—there was warmth. There was love. And there was a fragile kind of hope.
That night, for the first time in what felt like forever, Ed didn't cry alone. And when the silence grew long and the fire turned to embers, their lips met.
A kiss.
Soft at first, then deeper. Desperate. Alive.
They made love in the dim candlelight, not out of lust, but out of need. A need to feel something human. A need to remember they were still people, not just survivors.
Two broken hearts beating together in the dark.
BEMBANG…