There was something in the meeting room air — something thick, invisible, and oddly personal.
Tasha sat between two adults who clearly shared more than just a professional history. Their eyes danced like two warriors in disguise, pretending the past never happened.
But Tasha knew.
Something was brewing beneath the surface, and this room was way too small to hide it.
Cayra sat beside her, frozen like a marble statue.
Tasha took the lead. As the Account Manager, she was used to dealing with contracts, revisions, and massive client egos.
Personal drama? Not in the job description.
The Manterra brand proposal was in her hand.
She'd read it a hundred times — even reread it before bed last night.
But Cayra stared at it like it was a cursed relic from another timeline. Her eyes were blank. Unusually blank.
Tasha nudged her.
Once.
Twice.
It took a third nudge for Cayra to snap out of her daze.
"I need to understand your brand's vision and mission before I can properly promote it," Cayra said finally — her voice wobbly, like a freshman forced to recite poetry in front of the whole class.
Tasha let out a subtle sigh.
Girl, it's literally written in the document. Did you read it from the clouds or what?
This wasn't the Cayra she knew.
Normally sharp, composed, and cool like Employee of the Month.
Now? She looked like a lost intern on her first day.
Saka answered with a calm but cutting tone.
"That question is already outlined clearly in the document you're holding."
His eyes sliced sharper than a blade.
Tasha instinctively held her breath.
Cayra, on the other hand, visibly shrank — shoulders drooping, expression fading.
"My apologies, Mr. Saka," Tasha jumped in smoothly. "It seems Cayra's not feeling well today. If you don't mind, I'll handle the rest of the meeting."
Then she leaned closer and whispered, "Go to the health room, girl. You look pale as hell."
Cayra nodded faintly, preparing to stand.
But before she could even rise from her seat, a voice cut through the air —
Saka's.
He was staring right at her.
"Is leaving people behind a habit of yours?"
Tasha stopped breathing.
Cayra froze.
That wasn't just a remark — that was a door from the past swinging wide open without knocking.
Cayra turned her head slowly. She sat back down.
Lifting her chin, she replied firmly, "I'll stay for the meeting. I know my responsibilities as a Brand Strategist."
Saka nodded once. "Good. As you should."
Their eyes locked.
Neither blinked.
Like two chess players realizing their next move might end the game.
Tasha glanced between them, unsure if she should take meeting notes or pop in her earbuds and mind her business.
The meeting continued —
Though it felt more like a courtroom drama in disguise.
"So, what was your reason for establishing Manterra, a men's skincare brand?" Cayra asked.
"Isn't that already written in the company background section?"
"No other reason?"
Tasha knew the answer was in the document.
But Saka's expression shifted.
He wasn't looking at Cayra like a client anymore — he was someone confronting a truth buried long ago.
"Honestly," he said, "I wanted to help men glow. So they wouldn't look nerdy and have their hearts played with by a girl."
Tasha stopped mid-note.
Pen frozen in the air.
The atmosphere turned dense.
Cayra tensed.
A professional question had just become a nostalgic bullet.
"What do you mean by 'played with by a girl'? Not all women judge men by their looks," Cayra retorted.
Saka's stare sharpened.
"More often than not, women judge men by appearance and money. That's more than enough to make a man feel worthless."
Cayra clenched her jaw.
"And what proof do you have to say that?"
Saka didn't blink.
"A mirror. Just look at yourself."
Tasha wanted to escape — maybe fake a phone call or pretend the fire alarm went off.
But her legs refused to move.
Cayra almost stood up, but restrained herself.
Her fists clenched under the table, unnoticed.
Her face, however, stayed calm.
She'd practiced this. Pretending to be fine.
"What do you mean by that?" Her voice trembled, but stood its ground.
Saka didn't answer right away.
His voice dropped, almost gentle.
"You've never loved without a reason.
There's always a condition. A motive. A calculation."
The words slapped hard.
But Cayra refused to flinch.
She squared her jaw like someone holding back something that had been dying to break free.
Their eyes locked again.
No more Brand Strategist.
No more CEO.
Just two people with unhealed scars, standing between memory and reality.
Tasha slowly set her pen down.
No more need for notes.
This wasn't a business meeting anymore.
It was a stage where unfinished stories demanded closure.
She glanced at her meeting notebook.
Scratched out "Action Plan."
Wrote:
Cayra & Mr. CEO: The Drama Begins.
And her role?
An unfortunate front-row spectator with no way out.
~~~
Office hours had ended a few minutes ago. Saturday was a half-day shift. The sky should've felt bright by noon. But not today.
Rain had been pouring over the city—steady and relentless—as if it wanted everyone to just stay where they were.
Most employees who didn't bring a car decided to wait inside. Some sat in the lobby, others sipped coffee in the pantry while waiting for the storm to pass. But not Saka. Even though he brought his car, he couldn't leave yet. Not because of a flooded street. Not because of traffic.
But because someone had stopped him the moment he stepped out of the meeting room.
Rania Auliani. Founder of Nebula Creatives. Thirty-two years old. Known as MbakRaniaby the staff. She was also Saka's second sister Tari's best friend. So, it wasn't strange that their interaction looked more personal than your average client-agency business relationship.
As soon as Saka exited the meeting room, Rania called out to him. She asked him to stop by her office. Saka followed—not entirely willing, but polite enough to respect the long-standing friendship between them.
Their conversation lasted longer than expected. Eventually, Saka used the excuse that Gilang, his company's COO, had contacted him. Rania nodded in understanding but insisted on walking him to the lobby. She said she was heading out anyway.
Saka thought it was a bit much—but he didn't argue. It was just a short ride down.
In the elevator and along the hallway to the ground floor, Rania kept talking. Her voice filled the space. She asked one question after another, occasionally slipping in casual comments that felt too relaxed for a professional meeting.
"So, what made you finally want to work with Nebula?"
Saka stared straight ahead. He paused before answering.
"Maybe I used to believe in my internal marketing team too much."
He held his breath before adding,
"Even though, in reality, most people know my brand because of my last name."
"Come on. Don't beat yourself up over that. You have privilege. Use it."
Saka gave a small nod.
"Sometimes I just feel guilty. People assume I'm riding on my dad's name."
They were only recently working together professionally. But Saka didn't mind being honest.
"They're just jealous. Ignore them," Rania said lightly, her lips curling into a familiar smile.
"Anyway, how was the meeting earlier? Everything go smoothly?"
"Yeah. Smooth."
His answer dangled in the air.
"How was Cayra? She's great at her job, isn't she?"
Saka's steps slowed.
Cayra.
That name shattered through his mind like a broken mirror. For a moment, the image of a girl in a high school uniform flashed before his eyes. He blinked fast, as if logic could chase away memory.
"She's fine. Just a few things I felt were lacking."
"Lacking? She's professional. Talented. Gorgeous, too."
Saka nearly choked on his own breath. His heart skipped unnaturally fast. His body tensed. He knew—no, he felt—that his reaction wasn't normal. That a single name shouldn't unravel him like this.
"Saka?"
Rania turned, confused by his expression.
He shook his head lightly. But before he could say anything, the elevator door opened. They stepped out and walked toward the lobby.
"It's nothing. Just…"
He stopped midsentence. His eyes caught someone standing in the far-right corner of the lobby.
Cayra.
She was talking to a younger man. From their gestures and tense expressions, it was clear they were arguing. And even from a distance, Saka could guess who the guy was.
Elan.
Cayra's brother.
He'd seen his face a few days ago. Recognized it immediately.
Before he could make a move, someone called out to Rania from the opposite direction.
"Excuse me, Mbak Rania. Could I have a moment?"
"Sure. Saka, I'll head off first, okay? Take care."
Rania gave him a polite smile and walked away with the other woman.
Saka gave a small nod, but his gaze remained fixed on the two siblings, who were now clearly in a heated back-and-forth. Cayra had her arms crossed. Her expression was sharp. Elan was pointing at something in his hand—looked like a raincoat.
Cayra's damp hair clung to her cheek. As if to prove she was more stubborn than the weather itself.
Saka knew he had no reason to interfere. Still, his steps felt heavy. He slowly turned left toward the parking lobby, while Cayra and Elan remained on the right, near the main entrance.
The distance wasn't far enough to block out their voices. Faintly, the sound of their argument floated toward him through the rain.
"I can't wear that raincoat, Lan. It's too small. I'll be soaked."
"Then what? Wait for the rain to stop?"
"You could just buy a new one. I'll get sick if I go out like this."
The irritation in her voice carried to Saka's ears—even as he walked farther away.
He reached his car and paused. The rain hadn't stopped. But it wasn't the sound of the storm that bothered him.
It was what was on his mind. The last thing he thought after seeing her.
"If I had never met him, maybe I wouldn't feel like this."
That whisper rose from the doubt he'd buried deep.
But when her name returned.
When her face appeared again—so real, so close—
He failed to pretend.
Saka exhaled as he reached his car. His hand gripped the door handle. But his heart remained behind—on the other side of the lobby.
He got into the car. The cabin went quiet instantly. But his thoughts stayed outside. With Cayra's voice. With Elan's frustration. With the rain, still falling harder by the second.
And with the sound of his heartbeat—racing without warning.
As if to remind him:
The rain might stop.
But his feelings haven't.
The distance wasn't that far.
But their wounds were far too deep to be healed by this rainy afternoon.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
Working as a Brand Strategist at Nebula Creatives for years had taught me one thing: people come in all flavors. From idealistic clients to overly sensitive ones. But none of them had ever been quite like today's.
Today, I met a client who shared a past with me. A past I had long buried—deep. But he? He unearthed it like an archaeologist digging up fossils I'd rather keep extinct.
That meeting didn't feel like a professional discussion. It felt more like an interrogation. And not just any interrogation, but one led by someone holding a grudge wrapped in karma. Somehow, I ended up feeling like the main suspect in a crime drama—except all I did was exist as a former high schooler.
The moment I stepped out of that meeting room, I could finally breathe again. It felt like I had just escaped a hell simulation. It was only a half-day shift, but for a second, I was convinced time had stopped inside that room.
I walked out briskly—didn't wait for Tasha, didn't wait for him. From the outside, we looked like strangers. But the truth was… we knew far too much.
On the way out, I didn't even notice when Mbak Rania greeted me. My entire focus had shifted to one thing: the restroom. Not only out of physical urgency, but because I needed an emotional outlet. My face probably looked like a "before crying" meme.
Inside the stall, I sat for a moment. When I finally stood in front of the sink, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Tragic.
My hair was a mess, my face greasy. I looked like a drama character who'd just been stabbed by life's script. I splashed cold water on my face—and accidentally drenched my hair too. Great. I'd forgotten to tie it back this morning. Another mistake added to the list.
Feeling slightly more human, I reached for my phone and fired off the most loving threat I could think of:
"Lan, come pick me up. If you still want that 200k I owe you, I'll give it to you today!"
Elan responded instantly, like a debt collector.
"On my way. You better not be lying."
"I'm not."
Short. Sharp. Misleading.
I glanced at myself once more in the mirror. My lips curled—barely. Not a full smile, but enough to whisper: You'll survive.
Back in the office, the place was empty. The weekend spirit had shown no mercy.
I grabbed my bag, headed downstairs, and only then realized it was raining. People were still crowding near the entrance. I had thought the building would be empty—but no, they were just waiting for the storm to pass.
Rather than wander, I decided to wait by the front entrance. If Elan came and didn't see me, he'd definitely leave. With Elan, chaos is always on the table.
A few minutes later, he arrived. Wearing a raincoat. Holding a plastic bag. For a moment, I was touched. Maybe he brought food? Or a peace offering?
Nope. Inside was a child-sized unicorn raincoat. Purple. Sparkly. Clearly not mine.
"Where did you even get this?" I asked, holding it up like it was evidence.
"From the umbrella rack," he answered, totally unbothered.
I took a long, deep breath. This had to be Samara's. My five-year-old niece's. If I wore this, I might end up in a gossip account—or worse, look like I was cosplaying a children's TV character.
"This is Ara's. My raincoat's on my bike."
"How was I supposed to know that? You didn't tell me."
"Because I didn't know it was raining."
"So that's your fault," he said, cool as ever.
I stared at him, arms crossed. I was one sigh away from turning into a headache commercial.
"If you want, just wear this," he offered again, pointing at the cursed unicorn raincoat.
I closed my eyes for a second. Then opened them slowly.
"I can't wear that raincoat, Lan. It's too small. I'll be soaked."
"Then what? Wait for the rain to stop?"
"You could just buy a new one. I'll get sick if I go out like this."
I remembered… A few days ago, I avoided a cold thanks to a mysterious umbrella at the bus stop. Then a mask from a stranger before I left for Candraloka. Small gestures, but at the time, they felt like tiny miracles.
I didn't know those people. But they helped me. Whether by chance or intention, I was thankful.
But lately, I've started to wonder: why have I been helped so often? Are these coincidences? Or something that's already been written?
"I'm not buying anything. Take it or leave it," Elan said, offering the plastic bag again.
I frowned. "Do I look like Barbie to you?"
He sighed. "Fine. Just wear mine, then."
I almost smiled. Despite his sarcasm, Elan was still my little brother.
Just as he was about to remove his helmet, someone called out.
"Excuse me, Cayra. Someone left this raincoat for you."
I turned. A coworker stood there, holding out a folded raincoat.
"From who?" I asked, puzzled.
She pointed toward a black car just exiting the parking lot. "That guy. From that car."
I stared at the vehicle. Silent. My heartbeat ticked faster. A black car. A very familiar license plate. I'd seen it too many times lately.
Saka's car.
I took the raincoat, my hands slightly trembling. They were cold, but not because of the rain.
Because the person I was supposed to forget hadn't really left.
"I'll head off now," my coworker said.
"Thanks," I replied softly.
Once she left, Elan was quick to jump in.
"New crush? Who's that?"
I didn't answer. My eyes dropped to the raincoat in my hand. I turned it over—and there it was. A small nerdy-face sticker.
I knew that sticker. Of course I did. Saka used to put them on all his stuff back in high school.
So… this was really from him?
I froze.
Suddenly, I thought of the umbrella. The mask. Could it have all been from him, too?
Why did he act so cold in the meeting—yet still watch me from the distance?
I didn't know his reason. Maybe he was just trying to repay the past… in a way too graceful to confront directly.
Or maybe—just maybe—this was the beginning of a story that had always refused to start.
But never truly ended.