In Javanese culture, there's a saying: sawang sinawang.
It means life is all about perspective. We often think other people's lives are happier, while they secretly believe ours is the better one.
Saka knew that feeling well.
From the outside, his life looked flawless — the youngest son of a respected family, raised in luxury, now a CEO at a young age. But behind every step he took, there were heavy expectations looming over him. He felt like an actor on stage, forced to keep performing, while his own desires were buried behind the curtains.
To most people, being a CEO sounded glamorous. To Saka, it felt like a weight.
Since founding Manterra in 2022, he had learned the hard way that building a brand from scratch was no easy feat. And Manterra wasn't just a business — it was the first thing in his life that truly belonged to him.
He never lacked anything growing up. His family owned luxury properties, a skincare lab, even a media company. But privilege came with pressure. As the only son, he was expected to excel. His father believed success was an inheritance — and inheritances must be carried forward.
Studying abroad wasn't a choice. It was a requirement. He was even expected to continue to his master's degree, no questions asked.
At first, Saka simply went along. But since high school, he had started wondering:
Who am I really living for? Why do I work so hard to make everyone else proud… but never myself?
He once refused to study overseas. But the reason he carried was too complicated to explain — a reason he kept locked away. In the end, he gave in, completed his degree, and returned home.
The moment he was back in Indonesia, his father gave him a position in the family business. Saka agreed, on one condition: he wanted to build his own men's skincare brand. Manterra.
The idea was met with laughter. His family thought it was just a passing phase. But Saka didn't waver. He remembered someone's words that had left a mark:
"Live the way you want. Don't live just to please others."
With quiet determination, he started his journey. Secretly, his father lent a hand — some of the Ardhananta family's clients began to notice the Manterra name, even before its first anniversary.
Saka knew the early success wasn't entirely his. The Ardhananta name still carried weight. But this time, he was walking a path he had chosen himself.
Lately, though, Manterra's performance had started to slip. Old strategies no longer worked. He needed help.
His second sister, Tari — the Creative Director at Ardhananta Media Group — recommended a creative agency called Nebula Creatives. A friend of hers was one of its founders, and the agency was known for delivering strong campaigns for lifestyle brands and digital products.
His eldest sister, Gita, had chosen a completely different path as a psychologist and never got involved in the family's business affairs. Tari was the only one still willing to give input.
After some thought, Saka sent an email to Nebula Creatives on Wednesday. Their reply came quickly. A meeting was set for Friday.
That morning, Saka arrived at the agency's lobby. His eyes landed on a banner displaying employee photos. But it wasn't the design that caught his attention — it was one particular face.
Her.
The person who had once given him the courage to dream.
Beneath her photo, it read: Senior Brand Strategist.
Saka's heart picked up its pace. Years had passed, yet one picture was enough to shake his focus.
He thought he had buried those feelings. But in that moment, his chest tightened — not with romance, but with the sting of an old wound.
Without a word, he approached the receptionist to ask for the Account Manager's office. She pointed to the elevator, saying it was on the same floor as the Brand Planner and Brand Strategist teams.
When the doors opened, he heard light banter. A man and a woman were in mid-discussion.
"Where's Caca? Why isn't she here yet?" the man asked, annoyed.
The woman showed him her phone screen, mid-call.
"I've been calling her, no answer."
"Try again."
"I think she's rejecting my calls. Anyway, why are you looking for her so badly? Didn't your project with that client already end?"
"I just want her to come with me to the client's office one last time."
"Then go yourself. I think she's skipping work. It's not like her to be this late."
Saka lingered at the doorway. The man noticed him first and signaled to the woman. She turned slowly, eyes widening.
"Kak Saka?"
"Tasha?"
~~~
Tasha immediately led Saka to the meeting room, explaining about the collaboration email her team had already replied to. Her voice was professional, but there was an awkward glint in her eyes.
Saka and Tasha were close — but not in the way most people might think. They weren't lovers. They were cousins. Saka's father was the older brother of Tasha's mother. Both had grown up under the weight of family pressure, though they had chosen very different paths.
Tasha had decided to run away from that responsibility. She wanted an ordinary life. To be an ordinary employee. In her mind, it was enough that her older brother handled the family business.
Inside the meeting room, it was just the two of them. Yudha, the Brand Planner, was out meeting another client.
Saka adjusted his suit jacket. "You work here?"
Tasha's gaze sharpened. "Don't tell anyone. I still want a peaceful life."
Saka chuckled softly. "Alright. But I'd like to meet your Brand Strategist."
Tasha stood up quickly and grabbed her phone. "I'll call Caca."
Seconds later, the call connected.
"Cayra Astagina, where are you?" Tasha's voice instantly jumped an octave.
Saka could only hear one side of the conversation. Tasha's face was starting to look annoyed.
"What road?! Yudha's been looking for you! Don't tell me you skipped work?"
"Did she approve it? It's chaos here. A new client's asking for you directly — and you're MIA!"
No reply. Tasha's patience thinned.
"Caca! Are you even listening?!"
"Recovery from what?!"
That question made Saka's expression shift. He slowly stepped closer to Tasha.
Silence. Cayra didn't respond right away.
"Caca, did you disappear or did your ears take a vacation with your logic?"
As Tasha waited for an answer, she turned her head when Saka placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Have the meeting tomorrow instead. If she doesn't come, I'll tell the family everything about you."
With that, Saka walked out of the meeting room.
Inwardly, he wondered — was Cayra really sick? He had seen her this morning, riding off on an ojek to who-knows-where.
Tasha spun around in a mild panic. "I'll hang up now. You better come in tomorrow. We've got an important client."
Ending the call, she quickly caught up to Saka.
Hands clasped in front of her chest, she pleaded. "Please, don't tell the family. I'm sure Caca will show up tomorrow."
Saka nodded slightly. "Alright. I trust you."
Tasha smiled, returning to her seat. "By the way, why did you choose Nebula Creatives? Who recommended us?"
"Kak Tari. She said her best friend owns Nebula Creatives."
"Oh, so Mbak Rania is Kak Tari's best friend? You know her too, right?"
Saka gave a short nod. "Why?"
Tasha thought quickly, then smiled slyly. "If that's the case, I can lie to Caca. Tell her you're an important client with direct ties to the owner. That way, if she doesn't come tomorrow, her career could be over."
Saka simply shook his head. "Do what you want. I'm leaving now."
"Take care, Kak," Tasha called, waving as Saka left the meeting room.
That was how Saka ended up deciding to work with Nebula Creatives. Just yesterday, he'd had a professional meeting with their Brand Strategist — Cayra.
Today, he had arranged a follow-up. He wanted Cayra to come to his office to see Manterra's latest product prototype.
Now, Saka stood before his bedroom mirror. He had chosen to live alone, in a house conveniently close to his office.
Someday, he would explain why he happened to live in the same complex as Cayra. Why he had even become her neighbor.
He straightened his suit. His expression was calm. But behind the reflection lay an unanswered question — why was he suddenly paying extra attention to his appearance?
For some reason, he felt genuinely happy today. Was it because he had a meeting with Cayra? Or because he wanted all the company's problems resolved soon?
No one knew for sure. Only Saka understood the meaning of his racing heartbeat that morning.
~~~
Their footsteps echoed in perfect rhythm down Manterra's sleek hallway. Saka walked ahead—calm as ever—while Cayra followed, her own heartbeat far from steady.
As promised in their previous meeting, today was the follow-up at Manterra HQ. This time, Saka had personally requested her presence to preview the prototype of their soon-to-launch product.
When they reached the meeting room, Saka opened the door and gestured for her to step in first. The movement was polite… almost too polite. It made Cayra glance at him in quiet curiosity.
The moment she entered, her breath caught. The space was elegantly arranged—white and grey tones, minimalist yet striking artistic touches. The meeting room was like Manterra's public face: neat, modern, and quietly ambitious.
She took her seat, aiming for composure. Across the table, Saka typed into his phone, not once looking up.
"The prototype is on its way here. Our COO is bringing it," he said briefly.
Cayra nodded and let her gaze wander again. This wasn't just a workspace—it was a statement. Strangely, she could almost see Saka's personality embedded in the walls.
"What are you looking at?" Saka's voice cut in suddenly.
She nearly choked on her own breath. Turning quickly, she forced a small, awkward smile.
"This room's design… it's cool. I like the concept."
He only nodded, but behind that calm exterior, something shifted—an unspoken satisfaction. Somehow, her compliment hit differently.
The door opened. Gilang, Manterra's COO, entered carrying the prototype.
"Excuse me, sir. Here's the prototype."
"Thank you. This is Miss Cayra Astagina, Brand Strategist from Nebula Creatives. She'll be assisting us with the upcoming campaign," Saka said, gesturing.
Gilang offered a friendly smile and his hand.
"Hello, Miss Cayra. I'm Gilang, COO of Manterra. Pleasure to meet you."
She rose to shake it. "Pleasure to meet you too, Mr. Gilang."
Their polite smiles lingered—until a sharp gaze from across the table chilled the air. Saka cleared his throat, just loud enough to break the handshake.
"Please have a seat again, Miss Cayra. Gilang, thank you. You can return to your office."
Gilang frowned. "I don't need to join the meeting?"
"Not today. Focus on the supply chain documents that need finishing," Saka replied flatly.
Still puzzled, Gilang nodded and left.
Once alone, Saka opened his laptop, his eyes finding hers.
"Honestly, I'm impressed with the campaign concept you sent yesterday."
She froze.
"The communication structure is clear. Tone of voice and visuals match the target market. The hashtag selection is strong."
Generous praise… suspiciously so, coming from Saka Ardhananta.
"Thank you for the feedback, Mr. Saka."
"Feedback? I'm just stating facts. Isn't it your job to make sure the client is satisfied?"
The atmosphere shifted. Her chest tightened. Just when she thought she was being appreciated, the compliment came with an edge—half uplifting, half cutting.
Maybe this was what it felt like to work with someone who had both a complicated history with you and the power to crush your pride with a single sentence.
"You're right. That's part of my responsibility," she replied evenly.
Saka closed the project brief and slid the prototype toward her.
"Now, let me explain the product details. It's skincare for urban men aged 25 to 35. We want to highlight a clean, masculine, and practical image."
She took notes, asking about texture, main functions, product differentiation, and possible collaborations. He answered each question methodically. No personal remarks—just work. As if their past had never happened.
Two hours passed. The room felt warmer, not from the temperature, but from the focus between them.
As they began to pack up, Saka glanced at her.
"How will you get home?"
The tone was casual, but the pause between words held something unsaid.
She froze.
The morning's memory returned—riding in his car for the first time. The silence had been awkward enough to make a honking horn feel like relief.
"Miss Cayra?" Saka prompted.
"Yes, sir?"
"Will you be coming with me like this morning?"
She hesitated—until he added,
"I mean, if you're heading to Nebula Creatives, I also have business with Mbak Rania. We're headed in the same direction."
Ah. Of course. Work. She silently scolded herself for even thinking there might be another reason.
"I'll join you then. I do need to stop by the office," she said with a thin smile.
They left the meeting room together. On the surface, two professionals closing an important discussion. Beneath it, a tension neither could name.
The past stayed unspoken.
Yet with every step, it felt as if they were unknowingly writing the next page of a story that refused to end.
And as always… the universe needed only the smallest excuse to open that book again.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
They say money can't buy happiness—but sometimes, happiness comes from the way you use it.
It sounds cruel, but that's reality. Sure, money can't buy everything, but almost everything in life still costs something.
Saka used to wonder—what's the point of being rich if you can't feel the happiness that others talk about? Wouldn't it be better to live an ordinary life and still find joy, rather than live in wealth without ever knowing what happiness truly means?
Until now, Saka had never really understood happiness. He wasn't sure he'd ever felt it.
From the outside, his life looked perfect. But if people knew how dark it actually was, they'd think twice before wishing to trade places with him.
Since childhood, he'd been forced to study without pause. Reading wasn't just a hobby—it was mandatory. If he failed to finish at least two books a day, his father would be furious. The punishment? Summarizing an English dictionary, cover to cover.
His father never treated him like a son—only as a machine programmed to be "useful" for the future.
He never knew what it felt like to play with kids his age. He didn't even understand what it meant to fall in love.
Love? The only thing he thought about was finishing every book he borrowed from the city library.
Yes, he went there almost every day, even though his father's private library at home was bigger than most bookstores. Somehow, reading in a public place felt freer.
Every afternoon, he'd head to the library—and sometimes stop by the city park next door, sitting on a bench with a business book his father had recommended.
That day was no different—until a burst of laughter broke his concentration.
Instinctively, Saka turned his head.
A young woman sat nearby, sketching a group of children in worn clothes. They posed playfully as she drew, her eyes crinkling in genuine joy.
"Here—you're done," she said warmly, showing them the sketch.
The children crowded around her, their excitement filling the air.
"Wow! Can we keep it?" one asked.
"Of course," she replied with a smile.
"But… we don't have money," another whispered.
"You don't need to pay me. It's for you," she said gently.
"Thank you, Kak!"
"You're welcome."
As the kids ran off, a middle-aged woman approached, her tone sharp.
"Why waste your time with street kids?"
The young woman looked up. "Why not? Is there something wrong with it?"
"Well… I guess not. But they're poor. Dirty. A nuisance."
She smiled faintly. "Bu, everyone has the right to be happy. Rich or poor, we're all the same."
Saka's gaze sharpened. Her words sank into him like an echo he couldn't ignore.
"Happiness doesn't have to be expensive. Sometimes, it's seeing others smile because of something small we've done," she added. "And I'm one of the lucky ones who've felt it."
The older woman left, clearly unconvinced, but the young woman simply packed up and walked away with light steps.
That night, her words refused to leave Saka's mind. Could happiness really be that simple?
The next day, leaving the library, he was heading toward the park when he saw an elderly woman crossing the street—too slowly. A speeding car approached.
Without thinking, Saka ran forward, pulling her to safety and falling hard onto the pavement.
The screech of tires tore through the air. People rushed over. His shirt was wrinkled, his elbow scraped, his books scattered—but he only asked, "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."
A little boy in ragged clothes ran up—it was her grandson. The two left together.
And then he saw her—the young woman from the park—watching from a short distance. She turned and walked away.
For the first time, Saka smiled without forcing it.
That day, happiness wasn't about money or achievements. It was about helping someone.
From then on, Saka began helping others—not for praise, but because that was his meaning of happiness. It became a habit.
Like this morning.
He was leaving for work when he saw Cayra and her father struggling with a broken motorcycle. At first, he walked past. But something made him stop and ask.
Her father explained that Cayra had no ride—her siblings were busy, and the bike was dead.
Saka offered her a lift, mentioning they were working together on the Manterra project. Her father readily agreed, urging Cayra to go with him. She hesitated, but accepted.
The ride was silent, stiff… almost awkward. Saka briefly regretted offering. But when he caught Cayra looking out the window, he knew he wouldn't regret it—not really.
Because from her, he'd learned something, long before he even knew her name—
That happiness could arrive in the simplest form: helping someone.
And that day, Saka didn't just rediscover happiness.
He also found the first trace of a feeling he'd never known before.
Love.