Sunday felt like it just stopped by to say hello.
Before I could even take a deep breath, Monday barged in without knocking.
The day hated by most of humanity.
Myself included.
Monday was zero hour.
The moment everyone hit the reset button and pretended to be excited about life again.
And today, I was officially joining the cast of that drama.
After parking my moody motorcycle — which spends more time sulking than moving — I dragged myself toward the office.
The moment I stepped through the main door, a familiar voice called out from the receptionist's desk.
"Caca!"
Yasmine.
With a smile as wide as a toll gate, she waved at me like I was some celebrity coming home.
I walked over, still trying to convince my lungs to do their job.
Here, I was close to Yasmine.
Not as close as I was with Tasha, but the three of us often hung out together — a gossip trio that turned the vending machine corner into our unofficial meeting room.
"What's up, Yas?" I asked lazily.
"Tasha texted me. Said you should head straight to the meeting room. She's running late, got caught up with something."
I frowned. "Why didn't she tell me directly?"
"She said you didn't reply. Check your phone."
Oh.
She probably texted while I was still cursing my bike by the side of the road.
I hadn't even checked my messages yet.
"Straight to the meeting room? With who?"
Yasmine raised an eyebrow. "Are you seriously asking? Your new client. The CEO of Manterra."
Thump.
Saka Ardhananta.
The name blared in my head like an emergency siren.
I had hoped this was just some MSG-induced nightmare, but no.
It was real.
And far crueler than I expected.
That man was officially my client now.
Worse — he was already waiting for me.
This early.
Looking dominant.
And, as usual, infuriatingly perfect.
I swallowed hard. Of course he was on time.
Back in high school, he was famous for being a walking calendar.
Punctuality was his oxygen.
The memory made me smile without thinking — until Yasmine gave me a look like I'd just been possessed.
"Ca. Why are you smiling like that? Don't tell me you're already catching feelings before the meeting even starts."
I snapped out of it, forcing my face into professional mode. Or at least my best imitation of it.
"So I head upstairs now?"
"Yep. That's what Tasha said. Good luck."
Yasmine winked meaningfully.
I just nodded, swiped my card at the attendance machine, and stepped into the elevator.
Before the doors closed, I took a deep breath.
The kind of deep breath that tries to steal leftover air from Sunday night.
And I prayed — that today wouldn't be the start of my career's downfall…
or the death of my dignity.
~~~
The elevator stopped at the meeting floor.
The doors slid open, and I stepped out slowly — like I was walking into a courtroom, not a meeting room.
My steps felt heavy.
Not because of my heels or my bag, but because my head was overcrowded.
Afraid Saka still held a grudge.
Afraid he'd humiliate me.
Afraid he'd tell Mbak Rania I wasn't professional.
Afraid of losing my job.
Afraid of losing face.
Afraid of having all the old wounds ripped open right there on the meeting table.
I stopped in front of the door.
Still closed.
I didn't know if he was inside yet — but my heartbeat had been pounding since the lobby.
I forced my hand to move, gripped the handle, and pushed the door open.
And there he was.
Sitting straight.
Focused.
Cold.
Saka Ardhananta.
The man I once knew from a distance, until he became too close.
Now sitting just meters away from me, eyes fixed on the documents in front of him, occasionally glancing at his laptop.
The morning light from the window spilled across one side of his face, shaping a silhouette too perfect to be real.
His gaze was sharp.
His movements calm.
His face — still the same as before, but older.
More mature.
Colder.
Further away.
And I'd seen him like this before.
In the library.
On the back garden bench.
In an empty classroom during lunch.
It was the version of him that studied quietly.
The version of him that — without meaning to — made me fall far too deeply.
The memories came uninvited.
Spinning like a cheesy high school montage — only this one hurt.
Until a hand touched my shoulder.
I turned, startled.
Mbak Rania stood there, her smile as warm as ever.
"Hey, Ca. Why aren't you going in?"
I gave her my practiced smile — the one I used when trying to look fine.
"Just about to, Mbak."
"Come on, let's go in together."
She walked in first.
I stayed still for another heartbeat.
And in that moment, my eyes met his.
Just briefly.
But long enough to steal my breath.
It felt like gravity had yanked away whatever courage I had left.
That look was like the rainy season returning to the city.
Cold.
But familiar.
And more painful than I expected.
Did he know I'd been looking at him this whole time?
But he only glanced at me once — expressionless — then turned back to his laptop.
As if I had never been part of his life.
I straightened my back, tightened my grip on my bag strap, and walked in.
Even if every part of me wanted to run, my feet kept moving.
I didn't know who had changed.
Him, or me.
But the distance between us felt longer than the meeting table.
Because ever since Saka returned, I've realized one thing—
Even our footsteps no longer match like they used to.
~~~
The meeting had started fifteen minutes ago.
My brain, however… had gone AWOL.
On the screen, Saka was presenting Manterra's new product launch strategy. His voice was calm, his presentation neat, his visuals clean and premium—exactly like the image he wanted for the brand.
Last Saturday, he'd only given a vague introduction of his company. No details. No insights. Not even a brief. But today? Everything came pouring out at once, like a Monday morning flood of information.
"Our main goals are twofold," Saka said, his expression serious. "First, brand repositioning. Second, launching a premium product line targeting urban professionals."
I tried to focus. Listen. Take notes.
"Manterra's revenue has been declining for the past two quarters. I'm concerned the brand has started to stagnate. It's no longer relevant to our target market of twenty-five to thirty-five-year-olds."
He switched the slide. A mood board appeared on screen—neutral color palette, photography of charismatic adult men, clean typography. Everything felt… personal, yet still masculine.
"We want to move from being a purely functional brand to an aspirational one with emotional value."
I nodded slowly. This wasn't just another assignment.
The upcoming product was Manterra Prime—a premium skincare line for professional men. Cleansing balm, night serum, moisturizer with ginseng, hyaluronic acid, centella.
Strong positioning. Solid product.
And yet… my world felt blurry.
His voice was still speaking, but it sounded distant, like it was coming from a hotel bathroom speaker—echoed, faint, almost irrelevant.
Instead, my mind wandered back to the past. To the way he used to explain physics formulas back in school.
His voice now was deep and steady. But in my head, it morphed into that younger version—sitting on a bench in the back garden, explaining formulas with slightly stiff lips and trembling hands. I used to laugh at him without a care. Now, I wasn't sure I could even look him in the eyes without drowning in guilt.
That focused gaze.
The way his hands moved when he explained.
And now… it was all coming back.
Except this time, he wasn't the high school boy I once laughed at.
He was the CEO demanding my best performance.
"Miss Cayra."
One word, and my mind snapped back to the meeting room.
"Miss Cayra Astagina," Saka repeated. Even Mbak Rania turned to look at me.
I sat up straight instantly, my hands adjusting my blazer on reflex. My throat cleared loudly in the quiet room.
"Yes, Mr. Saka?"
"Were you not listening to my instructions earlier?"
Thud. My heart shot straight to my throat. My palms started sweating, and the pulse in my neck throbbed far too hard to ignore.
"I'm sorry, Sir. I think I misunderstood what you meant."
His face remained expressionless. "You call yourself a Brand Strategist, yet you can't even listen?" His fingers laced together on the table, his gaze sharp—but almost too calm.
The kind of calm that hides too much, but chooses to hurt you with one perfectly chosen sentence.
I fell silent. Oh, I understood perfectly. My brain just… crashed for a moment, not because I didn't get it.
Thankfully, Mbak Rania jumped in. "Maybe Saka explained it too quickly. Could you go over it again?"
Saka exhaled quietly, then switched the slide. "I want you to design a campaign concept that will attract urban men—men who are starting to care about their appearance but don't want to look narcissistic."
"In short, keep Manterra masculine. But make it relevant."
I immediately opened my notes and started typing.
"Communication concept, tone of voice, hashtags, visual mood, and campaign activation ideas. I want them on my desk by this afternoon. Send it to Manterra's official email."
I nodded. "Understood, Sir."
Then, without warning, Saka turned to Mbak Rania. "Tomorrow morning, I want Miss Cayra to come to Manterra's office to see the product prototypes. That's fine, right?"
Mbak Rania looked calm. "Of course. Just Cayra?"
"Yes. Only her," he said without hesitation.
And somehow, that didn't sound like a professional request.
It sounded like an SOP-approved version of personal revenge.
Like I was the only one being tested. Or punished.
I glanced at him instinctively. Huh? Just me? Normally, this kind of task would involve Tasha as the Account Manager. At the very least, she'd come along to liaise with the client. Even Yudha, our Brand Planner, usually tagged along.
Why was I going alone this time?
The question stayed in my head. I didn't have time to ask before Mbak Rania simply nodded.
I tried to stay calm. But honestly? This was getting strange. I'd never gone to a client's office alone before. Usually, I came as part of a trio. Now I felt like an intern who'd gotten lost.
And why hadn't I seen Yudha since Saturday? Normally, he'd be sitting in the corner by now with his laptop and iced coffee.
New mental note: Find Yudha after this. Maybe he knows something.
The meeting continued from eight to ten. But strangely, Tasha still hadn't shown up.
Usually, she'd be right next to me, prepping documents, while Yudha typed away in the corner. This time… nothing. Just me and Mbak Rania.
Today felt like a national exam.
And me? I was starting to feel like this wasn't just about my role as Brand Strategist.
This wasn't just a working relationship.
This was an unfinished story.
I didn't know it yet.
But there was something in Saka's gaze I couldn't translate. Too cold to be neutral. Too calm to be forgetful.
And I… was too slow to realize this wasn't just a product presentation.
It was a presentation of a past that hadn't let go.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
Ever heard that old song saying life without love is like a garden without flowers?
Sounds dramatic… maybe even a little cheesy.
But for me, it's just… unrelatable.
Love. One word, a thousand meanings.
And yet, to me, it's still a mystery.
Even now—one month away from starting high school—I have no real answer.
What is love?
That question pops into my head every time I see couples holding hands.
Does love need a reason? Does it happen by choice, or does it grow quietly when no one's looking?
If you asked about my first love, I'd probably freeze.
Because, up to now, I've never felt that kind of heart-thumping romance…
Except for the love I have for my dad, of course.
My days are usually filled with school and drawing.
That's my hobby—my little world.
Every afternoon, I'd go to the city park with my sketchbook and pencils. I'd sit quietly, observe everything, and draw whatever caught my eye.
Sometimes, a few kids would even ask me to draw them.
With my head so deep in my own little universe, falling in love was never on my to-do list.
And yet… deep down, I was curious.
Curious about what it would feel like—to have your whole world shift because of a single glance.
Then one day, everything changed.
I had just finished sketching and was packing my things when I heard a loud thud.
Thump.
I turned around.
A small crowd had gathered near the roadside.
Curiosity pulled me closer, and that's when I saw them—an elderly woman and a boy with glasses sitting on the asphalt. His clothes were messy, his elbow scraped, his pants dusty.
But what made me stop was… the way he looked at her.
Worried. Steady. Real.
"Ma'am, are you okay? Do you need a hospital?"
"No, I'm fine. How about you?"
"I'm good. As long as you're alright."
They weren't family—I realized that when a little boy in worn clothes ran up and called the old woman "Grandma."
That boy with glasses? He was just a stranger who'd jumped in to help.
When the crowd began to disperse and the grandmother walked away with her grandson, I stayed rooted in place, watching as the boy bent to pick up the books he'd dropped.
I don't know why, but… I couldn't take my eyes off him.
The next day, I returned to the park.
I thought yesterday's encounter was just a fleeting scene the universe had slipped into my day.
But he was there again—this time helping an old man cross the street.
I only watched from a distance.
He was different. Not just smart—kind. Simple. Quiet, but his actions spoke volumes.
From then on, my visits to the park had a new purpose.
Not just for inspiration, but for him.
The boy with glasses who kept finding his way into the pages of my sketchbook.
I began drawing him—reading on a bench, handing money to a child selling snacks, stepping forward to help before anyone else.
Was this… love?
For three days straight, I came to the park.
He didn't.
It felt like trying to draw the sky without its colors—complete, yet empty.
Even my will to sketch faded.
Tomorrow, I'd be starting high school.
The most prestigious one in the city.
I'd only gotten in because my mom worked there as a teacher.
I should have been excited.
But that morning, something in my chest felt incomplete.
During the opening ceremony, my cap slipped off.
I panicked, only to hear a calm voice beside me:
"Is this yours?"
I looked up.
And just like that, time stopped.
The noise around me faded.
It was him.
The boy with glasses.
"Thank you…" I whispered, barely believing it.
He just nodded and walked back to his spot in the line.
I stood there, frozen.
Was this real?
Turned out… we went to the same school.
Same year.
Unfortunately, not the same class—he was in Science 1, the elite class. I was in Science 3.
But that didn't matter.
As long as I could still see him.
His name was Saka.
People said he was brilliant.
His name floated around in whispers—and I made sure to overhear whenever I could.
With my new friends, Zira and Vey, I pretended to be busy.
In reality, my eyes kept searching for him—in the library, the back garden, even in the quiet hallway outside Science 1.
Yes… I was basically a stalker.
But isn't that how first love works?
With small, harmless kinds of madness?
My first love didn't arrive with rainbows or love songs.
It came in the form of a boy with glasses—brave, kind, and smiling in a way that was impossible to forget.
Now I realize—love doesn't always show up like fireworks.
Sometimes, it's just one moment.
One glance.
One feeling that grows slowly, silently… and can never truly be explained.
If this isn't love, then what is it?
Maybe that's where it all began.
I thought the story ended in the city park.
Turns out, it was only the beginning.
From one moment in a park.
From one fallen cap.
From one glance I barely noticed—until it carved itself into my memory.
I don't know when my feelings changed.
But since that day, I stopped asking what love is.
Because I had already felt it.
And foolishly, I walked away… before I ever had the chance to keep it.
Maybe that's how first love works—growing in silence, staying in silence… but never really leaving.
If I could turn back time, maybe I'd hold his gaze a little longer.
But first love isn't meant to be owned—only remembered.