Nayara's school has a beautiful backyard. It's a favorite spot for students to study and relax, including Nayara. The shade of the trees and expanse of grass makes anyone want to linger. The atmosphere is much more relaxed than the overly formal library.
That morning, the sun hadn't fully risen. A breeze carried the scent of grass. Several students sat in groups, working on assignments, discussing topics, or simply opening their laptops while snacking. The teachers were in a meeting to prepare for the 12th-grade exams, so students were free to study independently.
Raka strolled leisurely along the gravel path with Dimas and Nathan. In his hand hung a DSLR camera borrowed from the photography extracurricular. He had just finished taking photos of student activities for the school magazine.
"Bro, we've been walking around for almost an hour, but you only have... how many photos? Fifteen?" Dimas asked with a big yawn.
Raka chuckled. "Quality, not quantity."
"Yeah, but you're photographing landscapes again, and grass again. Where are the people?"
"Tree is a living thing too, Dim,"
Nathan chimed in dryly from behind. "A living thing that can't complain when you take a picture of it without permission."
Raka simply smiled as he turned his camera. As he turned toward the park, he saw a group of students sitting cross-legged under a flamboyant tree. Papers, books, and laptops were open in front of them. Among them, Raka recognized one face.
Nayara Maheswari.
She sat cross-legged, her hair tied back in a half-tie, her face serious but calm. Beside her, Jovan was explaining something, his hands gesticulating like a presenter. Two other students stifled laughter at Jovan's overly enthusiastic expression.
Nathan joined in. "Nayara is really beautiful, isn't she? Her grades are good, she's polite, and she's soft-spoken. She's like a role model."
Dimas nodded in agreement. "If this school had an 'Academic Hero' statue, it would definitely be Nayara's face."
Raka stared at the girl for a few seconds in silence. In the warm morning light, Nayara looked different from the "perfect" image people usually talked about. There were little things that were more captivating—the way she tossed her hair over her shoulder, the way she looked down in deep thought, her lips moving slightly as if she were calculating something silently.
"Yeah," Raka said quietly. "It's dazzling."
Dimas immediately turned his head with a mischievous expression. "If anyone else commented, I wouldn't be surprised. But this is Raka, praising a girl. Wow, this is a rare occurrence. Could it be that you've been secretly checking her out?"
Raka smiled slightly. "I think the whole school has been checking her out too. It's just a different way."
Nathan nudged him on the shoulder. "And you're one of them, apparently."
"Perhaps," Raka replied lightly, but his eyes still didn't look away.
Under the tree, Jovan said something that made the group laugh. Nayara covered her mouth briefly, then laughed too—not loudly, but sincerely. In the midst of her laughter, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a small, seemingly spontaneous gesture. Raka was momentarily stunned.
Dimas nudged his arm. "Bro, you've been staring."
Raka flinched slightly, then laughed. "I was observing, not watching."
"What observation?"
"Human expressions in their natural state," he replied, feigning seriousness.
Nathan gave him a flat look. "Are you a photographer or an anthropologist?"
"Multitalented," Raka said, then raised his camera. Click.
He photographed the garden from a distance, focusing on the flamboyant tree shading the group. But in truth, the main subject of the photo wasn't the tree. The lens stopped just as Nayara looked down with a smile.
Dimas looked at the camera screen and whistled. "Wow! Now that's a good photo."
Raka quickly closed the camera. "Just a candid shot."
Nathan smiled amusedly. "A candid shot that just happened to be aimed at Nayara."
Raka didn't answer. He continued walking, but in his head, his own sentence kept repeating itself. It seemed like the whole school has been checking her out too. Maybe it was true. Everyone in this school was indeed watching Nayara — and Raka had just realized he was one of them.
A few steps later, a basketball rolled toward them. Raka picked it up and turned to the small field behind the park.
"Hey, pass it here!" a student shouted.
Raka threw the ball with one hand. His throw was smooth. He chuckled when the student almost missed the catch. "Don't play in a daze, bro!"
His laughter mixed with the voices of the other students. The day felt light. But in between his laughter, Raka glanced back toward the park—a reflex.
Nayara was already looking down again, writing something in her notebook. Jovan was still talking at length.
But this time, for no reason, Raka raised his camera once more. Just for a moment, just one shot.
Click.
He smiled. Not because the photo was good, but because something inside him was starting to move slowly, like a leaf lifted by the evening breeze.