My name is Sachi Zenabella.
The people closest to me call me "Ai."
At school, I'm a nobody.
Not the smartest student who always sits in the front row and becomes the teacher's favorite. Not the pretty girl everyone chases after, or the center of attention during break time. I'm just… super ordinary. If you glanced at me once, you might even forget I was in class. But I don't really mind. I feel comfortable like this—quietly observing, laughing at my friends' jokes, joining in conversations once in a while, and going home without leaving too deep a trace.
I have four close friends: Sasha, Anira, and Mika.
Sasha Cahya Laras, the loudest and fastest to laugh. She swears she can smell bread from two classrooms away. But don't underestimate her—when it comes to matters of the heart, Sasha is surprisingly sensitive.
Anira Mahika, the quiet type. Cold, sharp, and not easy to approach. But once she speaks, her words usually strike deep. She doesn't let just anyone into her world, but somehow, she allows me to stay by her side.
Mika Santika, the living shield. Calm yet strong, not much of a talker, but she always knows exactly when to show up when one of us needs a shoulder to lean on.
And then there's Arvin Erlangga Pradipta.
A boy with a clear mind, gentle voice, and a way of speaking that always feels calm. In the chaos of our class that often feels like a night market, Arvin is like spring: soft, warm, and soothing. He can make the smallest conversation feel meaningful. And if I'm honest… sometimes I feel like he's the only one who truly notices that I exist.
In class, there are many other faces and names that color my days.
Like Rega Prasetya, a boy bursting with energy, sometimes too much, but clearly carrying big dreams. He often stirs up trouble out of nowhere, but he can be serious when it's about something he believes in.
Then there's Jaya Wirawan, who pretends to be cool and often teases Rega, but deep down, he cares. Arvin, like I said, is always the peacemaker.
Bayu Pradana, the class clown who doesn't need an invitation to entertain.
Then Rendra Prabowo and Bertand Harris—the tall duo who look mature, though their silence often hides something deeper.
Elian Danuwira Ardhana, who speaks with such confidence that it sounds convincing, even if sometimes he's too serious.
Nicholas Syaputra, a great cook who often brings extra lunch. Then there's Nuca Ignatius, quiet but always attentive. Daven Hael Algani, a bit sarcastic but brutally honest. Beside him sits Kayla Savira… who always looks like she just woke up, but her mind is sharp and unpredictable.
If our class were a theater, then Hanin Crystallia and Eva Elliana would be the leading actresses—without even auditioning, they're always the center of attention.
Hanin—sweet, with a gentle smile and soft voice. Everyone likes her, even teachers seem more patient when she's the one asking questions. But don't be fooled. Behind that calm face, she has sharp logic and courage that often goes unnoticed. She doesn't like drama, but once she speaks, everyone listens.
And beside her, always, is Eva.
Eva is Hanin's opposite in every way. Blunt, sharp-tongued, sometimes sarcastic, and never afraid to stare anyone down. But somehow, only Hanin can make her smile without a trace of cynicism. They're inseparable—even in group projects, they're like a buy-one-get-one deal.
Sometimes when Jaya teases Hanin, Eva shoots back,
"You've got the guts to say that, but not the grades in Math."
Jaya usually goes quiet.
Arvin chuckles softly.
And Sasha pats my shoulder, whispering, "You know, if Eva joined the national debate team, her opponents would cry."
Then there's Arin Gisella Abigail, but somehow she's called "Darcie." She always sits by the window, relaxed in her chair, sometimes too relaxed. She's the type who knows every piece of gossip before it even spreads.
"Are Rega and Jaya arguing again? Ugh, boring. Wake me up when they start throwing chairs," she mutters, twirling her pencil with one hand.
But behind her laid-back attitude, she's surprisingly caring—in her own way. She loves to tease, but if you're sad, she's the first to slide you candy without saying much.
Beside her sits Marlo Putra.
Marlo is the kind of student who takes school very seriously. Books highlighted, exam schedules neatly posted, always sitting upright like he's defending a thesis. And yet, somehow, he's friends with Darcie—and ends up her favorite target every day.
"Marlo, relax a little. You're not in the military," Darcie says, resting her head on her desk.
"Assignments are responsibilities. I can't relax until they're done," Marlo replies, serious as always.
"See that?" Bayu whispers to me, "They're like a slice-of-life anime couple. One's hyper serious, the other lives like it's a vacation."
I just laugh. Because, yeah, it's true. Each of them has their own role. Sometimes silly, sometimes exhausting, sometimes heartwarming. But all of them… are alive. And our class, no matter how noisy or strange, feels like home.
And me?
Maybe I'm just the quiet narrator in the middle row, watching from the sidelines. But I'm here. With them. Collecting little fragments of moments that might one day become memories.
And sometimes I think, even if I'm just a shadow in the corner, these people—my friends—are the colors in the painting of my life. And maybe, in my ordinary little way… I color theirs too.
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XI-A
Our class is never truly quiet. Even when the teacher hasn't arrived yet, it feels like a night market that never closes.
Sasha usually yells first from the back row,
"Aiiiiiii! THERE'S A POTATO BUN!!"
Even though it's just her own lunch, which she opens dramatically like she's filming a food commercial.
"Can you not announce your meals like it's national news?" Jaya mutters, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still sneaking a glance at the bread.
"She just wants us to know she's happy," Arvin says with a small smile, eyes still glued to the thick novel that seems never-ending.
Of course, Bayu jumps in,
"Wait, wait. We need clarification. Is this bread filled with potato, or potato filled with bread?"
And boom.
The whole class bursts into laughter. The teacher hasn't even arrived, and it's already a full-on talk show.
Rega usually sits in the corner, sometimes lost in his own world, sometimes suddenly standing up to declare,
"I don't understand why we have to study economics when what really matters is freedom!"
"Oh please, Re, that's not freedom, that's running away from responsibility," Jaya shoots back, dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't you get it? Responsibility is part of freedom too!"
And the debate spirals endlessly, never to be resolved until the final bell rings.
Rendra just shakes his head, while Bertand pretends to copy notes, half-listening.
"Again," Anira whispers to me, "pointless noise."
Kayla strolls in five minutes before the bell, looking as if she just woke up from a two-hour nap in the school garden.
"What's today's fight about?" she yawns.
"Today's topic: why economics doesn't matter, according to Rega—while our exam is next week," Arvin explains, finally putting his book down and surrendering to the chaos.
Elian is already busy making a silly poll, listing who's most likely to pass just because of their "innocent face," not grades.
"You're on here, Chi. Innocent face passes. Arvin too."
"Don't drag me into your nonsense," Arvin replies, smiling half in defeat.
In the middle of all this, I usually just sit and listen. Enjoying it. Because honestly, I like it this way. Loud. Alive. Strange, isn't it? An ordinary girl in the middle of an extraordinary mess. But maybe the ordinary one is the one who survives the chaos.
Sometimes Mika glances at me, noticing my teary eyes from laughing too hard, and says flatly,
"Don't die from laughter, Ai. We still have Biology homework."
And when the teacher finally enters, everyone instantly sits up straight. But the leftover laughter and wild energy still hang in the air, like little memories that never fade.
----------------
That day, the sun was still hanging low when I walked home.
The sky was a pale shade of orange, as if reluctant to sink completely.
The sound of Sasha's sandals, Bayu's laughter echoing in the distance, and the soft rhythm of Arvin's footsteps beside me still lingered in my ears.
But now I was alone, walking along the narrow path that led me home.
My steps slowed as I reached the front gate. Something was different.
The house across the street—the one that had always been empty, its windows shut, its paint peeling… today, its door was open.
And there, someone was standing.
I saw a figure at the gate—a man, perhaps twenty-three years old.
His hair was jet black, neatly cut. His face… calm, but too flat. Too stiff.
As if he was carved from ice, not flesh and blood.
His eyes were fixed straight on me. Cold. Not angry, but empty… like he was staring at a wall, not at me. Like someone who had long forgotten how to show emotion.
His face showed no trace of interest in anything around him. His posture was upright, too steady for someone who had just moved in.
I hesitated for a moment, but somehow, my feet carried me closer. And I gathered the courage to greet him.
"Hi," I said, as warmly as I could. My voice trembled a little, but it was sincere. "You just moved in, right?"
That gaze pierced through me, like a slow, creeping fog against my skin.
Then… without a word, he turned away.
He walked past, just like that. No reply. No nod. Not even a second glance.
As if I were nothing more than an unimportant sound.
As if I hadn't spoken.
As if I didn't exist.
I stood frozen.
The evening breeze slipped through my hair, whispering something I couldn't quite grasp.
There was something about that stare. Not just cold or indifferent. But… I couldn't explain it.
I watched his back as he walked away. Slowly, the old house's door shut behind him, leaving a silence that seeped into my chest.
For the first time in a long while, that empty house felt alive.
But alive in a strange way.
Like a nightmare that hadn't ended.
And I let out a small laugh as I entered my own house, whispering a vow to myself,
"I won't greet him again."
----------------
That night, we had dinner as usual. The small round wooden table in our dining room was filled with the aroma of Mom's cooking. Warm corn soup, sweet soy chicken, and steaming spinach stew.
The house felt calm, cozy, like a warm hug after a long day.
I sat stirring my spoon in the bowl, glancing now and then at the window. The house across the street looked dark, as if not a single light was on.
"Mom," I finally spoke, "did you know the empty house across the street… someone's moved in?"
Mom nodded, blowing on her hot spoonful of soup.
"Yes, a young man. Lives alone, apparently. His parents are out of town."
I spooned rice slowly.
"I ran into him earlier… he's kind of strange. His stare was really cold. I greeted him, but he just looked at me like… like I was transparent."
Mom paused, her hand frozen mid-air. "Huh? Seriously?"
I nodded. "He just walked past, didn't say anything. Completely ignored me."
Her face changed. Her brows furrowed slightly, as if something didn't add up.
"That's odd. Because earlier this afternoon, I met him when I was taking out the trash. He was really polite. Smiled, said hello, even helped me carry the water jug into the house."
I stopped chewing.
"…What?"
"Yes. His name was—" she frowned, trying to recall. "—if I'm not mistaken, Aslan. Very well-mannered. Spoke softly, but clearly. Not cold at all."
I stared at her, a chill crawling up my spine.
Polite? Kind?
Were we talking about the same person?
My mind replayed the scene from earlier. That cold face, the empty stare, the rigid steps… not a trace of warmth. Not a single word.
Not just that—he looked like someone who wouldn't let anyone into his world.
Could he have just been in a bad mood? Or maybe… did I see it wrong?
But I remembered his expression perfectly.
That silence—it felt deliberate. Like he was hiding something.
"Strange," I muttered softly, eyes drifting to the window.
From the outside, the house was dark. No sound. Curtains drawn tightly.
But somehow… it felt like eyes were watching from behind the shadows.
Mom glanced at me, her expression mixed, though she tried to smile.
"Maybe he was tired. Or just not in the mood to talk. Moving in can be exhausting, after all."
I gave a small nod, though deep inside, the unease still lingered.
----------------
As the night grew late and the sky turned pitch black, I peeked out my bedroom window.
The house remained dark. No lights, no sounds, no silhouette behind the curtains.
As if nothing had happened that evening.
But I knew what I saw.
That stare was too real. Too piercing.
And somehow… I felt it wasn't the last time I would encounter him.
----------------
That morning, nothing felt unusual.
I went to school as usual. The narrow path was covered with dry leaves carried by the wind, the soft sound of my shoes tapping against the asphalt, and the overcast sky that hinted at something—whether just the weather… or something much bigger.
I was still thinking about last night's conversation with Mom. About the neighbor across the street, who I thought was cold and terrifying… but according to her, polite and kind. It felt like we were talking about two completely different people in one body.
But I didn't dwell on it for too long. Because, as always, the moment I arrived in class, the world turned noisy again.
In class, the atmosphere was the same as ever—wild, loud, and chaotic, like the daily soundtrack of my life. Our class wasn't really a place to study; it was more like a stage where a new genre of theater was performed every day. Sometimes drama, sometimes comedy, sometimes even thriller.
The mornings usually started with Sasha running in, half-breathless, still chewing bread.
"Five minutes before the gate closes!" she shouted.
Even though we all knew she'd still arrive at the last minute, even if school started an hour later.
Rega was usually already loud since the first period. Complaining about teachers being unfair, about assignments being too much, or about Jaya sitting in his "reserved" seat.
"I sit there every day, Jaya!" Rega snapped.
Jaya just grinned lazily, leaning back. "What, does that chair have a label saying 'Rega Prasetya' on it?"
"It should!"
Meanwhile, Mika sat quietly with a book in hand, though her eyes occasionally flicked to Rega, as if ready to step in and rescue him from himself if needed. And somehow, Rega actually calmed down a little—or at least stopped trying to pick a fight with Jaya.
Then Bayu lifted his chair dramatically, pretending to be a TV host, and asked the class:
"So, who's the real troublemaker here? Jaya or Rega? Cast your votes now!"
The room exploded into noise.
On the other side, Anira gazed out the window like she was waiting to be teleported to another dimension. Kayla yawned and slumped on her desk, as if all of this was just background noise. Rendra and Bertand glanced up briefly, then went right back to finishing homework they had delayed for a week.
Arvin sat near me, as always. Sometimes he laughed along, but most of the time he'd just murmur, "It's like they've got unlimited energy… and it's only seven in the morning."
"Maybe their breakfast is coffee and rocket fuel," I replied while opening my textbook—honestly, only because the teacher would arrive soon.
"Do you think we'll actually learn anything today?" I asked Arvin.
"We'll learn that this class needs a stable system of government," he muttered with a small smile.
"And Rega's not the president?"
"Rega's more suited for a coup d'état."
Suddenly, Elian appeared at the classroom door, looking like he had just finished a marathon.
"GUYS!" he yelled. "I brought a Bluetooth speaker… and a REMIXED national anthem playlist!"
Before anyone could stop him, the sound of EDM remixes of patriotic songs filled the room. Bertand clapped his hands over his ears. Rendra sighed, "Why did I end up in this class?"
Kayla, still half-asleep on her desk, mumbled, "If this is a dream, please don't wake me up."
Nuca and Daven were already arguing about who was better at strategy games, and somehow, there was already a scoreboard on the whiteboard that read "Team Nuca vs Team Daven."
Nicolhas opened his lunchbox and started offering cakes to everyone—which made Sasha immediately move to sit beside him without hesitation.
I just sat at my desk, watching everything with a strange warmth. This class was never quiet. Never normal. And yet… I felt comfortable. Seen, even, though I was nobody special.
"I kind of like chaos like this," I said to Arvin, who turned and chuckled softly.
"You like it because you never join the fights."
"That's the art of being an ordinary student. I'm the calm spectator, but I understand the whole plot."
And so the morning went on—filled with laughter, EDM remixes of the national anthem, and pointless debates about whether Jaya or Bayu was stronger.
Then—the classroom door opened quietly.
The room fell silent. Not because anyone told them to, but because an aura entered with the footsteps.
A pair of black shoes stepped onto the floor. Slow. Certain.
Light but firm strides. A young man entered, standing at the front with perfect posture and a face devoid of expression.
His hair was jet-black, neat, with a few strands brushing the side of his face. His eyes were sharp, cold as ice. They didn't just look—they pierced, as if judging who was worth speaking to and who was a waste of time.
His lips didn't smile. His shoulders squared. His body was lean yet firm. There was something almost military in the way he stood—or maybe it was simply the sheer discipline radiating from him. Dressed in a plain black shirt and dark gray trousers, he didn't need noise to intimidate.
And the moment my eyes met his, my breath caught.
Thud.
It was him.
The world seemed to stop moving.
My neighbor from across the street. That icy stare that pierced my spine yesterday. The mysterious neighbor who had looked at me as if I didn't exist. Who never returned my greeting. Who my mom said was kind… but who I thought was like walking frost.
And now… he was standing in front of the class, chalk in hand, his voice calm but carrying a weight that silenced even Jaya without effort.
"My name is Aslan Hiems Samudra," he said, his tone flat yet firm. "I'll be your new math teacher. Don't make noise. Don't interrupt. And don't waste my time with stupid questions."
The classroom froze.
Sasha gulped. Bayu held his breath. Even Rega, usually fearless, frowned slightly. Jaya raised his hand a little.
Aslan's cold stare cut to him. "If your question isn't important, put your hand down before I put it down for you."
Jaya immediately lowered his hand and sat upright like a stiff board.
Then Aslan's eyes swept the room, one by one, like flipping through useless files. Until finally… they stopped on me.
I froze.
He looked at me… blankly, calmly, just like yesterday.
No recognition in his eyes. No smile, no small nod to suggest he remembered me.
Only that cold gaze that made my heartbeat stumble.
Aslan.
My neighbor. The one who hadn't spoken a single word to me yesterday.
Now standing here as my teacher.
"Ai?" Arvin whispered, nudging my arm. "Are you okay? You're pale."
I only shook my head.
How could I explain that the new math teacher with the aura of eternal frost was the same man who had looked through me like I was invisible? And now, when his eyes lingered on me for a second—nothing. No acknowledgment. As if we had never crossed paths.
Did he forget? Or… was he deliberately pretending?
Aslan turned to the blackboard, writing numbers with precise strokes. His movements were sharp, neat, fast. No room for mistakes, no tolerance for jokes.
"Those who are late, get out. Those who don't understand, take notes. If you stay silent and hope for good grades, you can get out as well."
Someone muttered quietly from the back, "Is this a school or a military camp?"
And in the middle of it all, I sat frozen.
My heart pounding without reason.
Because somehow… I knew. His presence here wasn't just coincidence.
And this is where my story changes.
From being a super ordinary student…
To being a student under my cold, untouchable neighbor—my new math teacher unlike any other.
His name was Aslan Hiems Samudra.
And I still didn't know… whether this was the beginning of disaster, or something much more than that.