The city never truly slept. Even past midnight, the roar of traffic still pulsed along the streets like a restless heartbeat, neon shop signs continued to glow on the sidewalks, and the drizzle of the rainy season slicked the asphalt, making it shimmer with reflections of the streetlights. The air hung heavy and humid, laced with the scent of rain and fried snacks from street vendors stubbornly stationed at the corners.
Eland'orr adjusted the strap of his worn messenger bag as he walked toward the bus stop on Sudirman Street. That day, after work, he had gone to the library, immersing himself in mythological texts that seemed to whisper only to him. Those stories stirred something inside him—a thirst for knowledge he could never quite explain.
The bus stop soon came into view, its metal frame dampened by the drizzle. And there—standing beneath the dim glow of the lamp—was someone already waiting.
A young woman leaned casually against the pole. Her black hair, dampened by the drizzle, framed her face in a way that made her features sharper, more striking. Her skin seemed pale yet luminous beneath the yellow light. When she turned her head, their eyes met—green, deep, piercing.
Eland'orr slowed his steps. There was nothing unusual about meeting someone at a bus stop in Jakarta; thousands of people did it every day. But somehow, her presence felt different—as if she had been waiting for him, not merely for the bus.
"Long night?" she asked, her voice soft yet clear, cutting through the rumble of distant thunder.
"Something like that," Eland'orr replied with a slight shrug. "Rain makes the buses even slower."
"They always test patience during the rainy season," she said with a faint smile, her accent strange yet oddly familiar.
Eland'orr studied her for a moment. The way she spoke the words rainy season flowed so naturally. Foreigners rarely said it like that. But she didn't look like a tourist.
Silence fell—not awkward, but like a thin thread waiting to be pulled.
"You're Eland'orr, aren't you?" the woman asked suddenly.
He froze for a split second. "Uh… yeah. Have we met before?"
"Not yet," she answered, a mysterious smile curving her lips. "But I've often seen you at the library."
The certainty in her tone unsettled him. He was not used to being noticed. The way she said it felt as though she had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
Politeness compelled him to extend a hand. "Eland'orr."
She took it gracefully. Her skin was cool against the damp air. "Freiyah."
The name lodged itself in his mind instantly.
Their gazes locked again, and Freiyah tilted her head slightly, as though she could read far more of him than he usually allowed.
"You always read mythology," she said—not as a question, but as a statement.
Eland'orr felt a tightness in his chest. "Yeah. It's… interesting."
"Interesting," Freiyah echoed softly. "Especially when myths are more than just stories."
Before he could ask what she meant, headlights pierced through the drizzle as the bus approached. Freiyah straightened, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.
"Do you often take this bus?" she asked.
"Most nights," he replied carefully.
Her lips curved into a wider smile. She pulled her phone from her pocket. "Then let's exchange numbers. It's nicer to have familiar company."
Eland'orr hesitated, but her calm persistence drew him in. He handed over his phone, and she entered her contact details swiftly, as though the act came too naturally.
The bus pulled in with a hiss of brakes. Freiyah stepped back, her eyes glinting beneath the flickering streetlight. "Tomorrow. There's a café by the river. Meet me there."
Her words sounded less like an invitation and more like a certainty.
Eland'orr nodded slowly. "Alright. Tomorrow."
Freiyah's smile deepened. But behind it, something elusive lingered—purpose, or perhaps destiny.
As the bus rolled forward and Eland'orr settled by the window, he glanced back. Freiyah remained beneath the lamp, unmoving, her gaze following him with an intensity that sent a chill down his spine.
To Eland'orr, this was nothing more than coincidence.
To Freiyah, it was the beginning of a plan—one she had been preparing for years.