I used to think the line of fate had faded—almost disappeared. After exactly 531 days of avoiding you, the nerve of you to show up in my life again. Uninvited. Unwelcome. Unpermitted. How many times do I have to say it? You are not invited.
I froze. Stunned. Silent. Or whatever you want to call it. Half-dying from the shock of seeing him in the middle of the day like this. Turns out getting struck by lightning in broad daylight is a real thing.
We were at a fast food place in FX Sudirman, the mall next to my office. At table number 10, to be exact. The one closest to the entrance. The only thing separating us from the mall's hustle was a waist-high partition. The table and chairs were small and minimalist in white, like most fast food chains. Two paper crowns were set on the table. People passed by for all kinds of reasons. It was lunch hour, so the mall was crowded with office workers hunting for food or grabbing boba and coffee to take back to their desks for overtime.
After days of complaining to Rini about how bored I was with office routines, she invited me to discuss the progress of Buku Kilasan. Who would've thought, out of hundreds of publishers in Jakarta, the one that got chosen was Arga's father's company?
"I'm Rini," Rini reached out her hand.
"Arga." Arga returned the gesture with a respectful nod, placing both hands together in front of his chest. He was still the same. Still avoiding physical contact with women. My admiration quietly resurfaced.
"Nis," Rini whispered when she noticed I wasn't reacting.
I looked the other way. At one o'clock, an older woman was browsing batik housedresses at a stall near the escalator. Dear God, please make everything in this room interesting—except for Arga's eyes. I didn't want to see them and regret it later.
"Nis," Rini whispered again, more firmly.
I don't need an introduction, Rin. We know each other. Very well.
"This is Nisa. Sorry, she zones out a lot."
"Haha... I get it. No worries," Arga replied casually.
No worries? Seriously? You're the reason I space out like this.
We all sat down. Arga and Rini because it was natural to do so. Me, because my legs were trembling too hard to keep standing.
"I didn't know what you'd want, so I got you both burgers and cola," Arga said, placing the food in front of us.
"Hah, chill," Rini waved her hand dismissively. "If it's free, anything goes," she said without shame.
That fast food place—one of the most affordable hangout spots in FX—was a go-to for many during lunch. Crowded, noisy, chaotic. Yet all of it became muffled to me. Muted by the storm Arga's presence stirred inside.
"I'm going to grab some fries. You want any?"
"Sure, one. Nisa?" Rini offered.
"No, thanks." My first words this whole meeting. Short, but it took everything I had to get them out. I masked the tremble in my voice, trying to appear okay. I had to be okay.
Arga walked over to the counter to order two servings of fries. I braced myself for Rini's teasing.
"Told you. One look and you're swooning. Crushing is fine, but don't blank out like that. Or get all flustered." Her words passed me by. I was still grappling with the fact that he was here.
God granted my prayer to escape boredom. But not like this, please. Anything but him.
Arga returned with two servings of fries on his tray. He stopped to get some ketchup before sitting down. He never used to be that thoughtful. Was it growth, or just business etiquette? He sat down carefully, keeping the fries from spilling.
"I'm gonna use the restroom," Rini announced. "You two get acquainted. Nisa's usually a chatterbox. Probably stunned by your good looks." She left, leaving behind her usual teasing.
"So, I'm good-looking?" he asked.
I looked at him and quickly put on a disgusted face, though my heart didn't agree. You're still the most handsome, Ga. Even after all the K-dramas I've watched, you're still number one. Unbeatable.
"Brutal look," he commented, laughing shamelessly.
"Not funny," I muttered.
"Nis." He paused after saying my name. He placed his fries on the table and just stared at me. What is this feeling? Like the whole world stopped just so I could focus on him. The noise faded. The crowd blurred. All that remained was a heart trying to make sense of its own turmoil.
"You changed your number?"
"Yes."
"You don't use Instagram anymore?" he asked again. I stayed quiet. He was getting close. Yes, Ga—I cut you off.
"You blocked me?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Sure, the colder I am, the more obvious it is that I haven't moved on. But who cares? Right now, all I want is to go home and hug my teddy bear.
"You're still mad, Nis? You know you can't stay mad for more than three days. It's a sin."
I know, Ga. But you? Still shameless enough to say that after everything you've done?
"Nis," he said softly, eyes full of sorrow. I looked down, staring at my now-cold fast food. Please Ga, don't give me that gaze.
"Nis." His voice now pleaded, urging me to look back.
"What?" I snapped.
"Sorry." That word hit like a bullet. Arga said it with sincerity—as if he'd been rehearsing it every day for the 531 days we hadn't spoken. "How could I lose someone as amazing as you just because of this stupid mouth? I was wrong, Nis. I'm sorry."
It was the first time Arga ever truly apologized since we became friends. Of course he deserves to say that. He deserves to feel guilty. He deserves to lose you as deeply as you lost all your hopes about him. He deserves every wound as much as the ones he gave you. So why do you still feel like the one begging?