"Queue number 48, please come in."
Finally. After six full hours of waiting.
Six hours — seriously. If I'd taken the train, I could've made it out of town by now.
I'd already had lunch at a Padang stall. Dozed off twice. Almost gave up and went home.
But something — curiosity, maybe — kept me here.
And the moment I stepped into Mbah Sarmini's house, it felt like I'd entered a different world.
Not the dark, incense-filled space I expected.
No eerie gamelan music either.
Instead, it was a large, bright home where classic and modern styles mingled. Tall windows let in the soft afternoon sun. On the walls: contemporary shadow puppet paintings next to a black-and-white portrait of a young man in a turban.
I froze at the entrance.
Was this really a fortune teller's home?
A middle-aged woman in a neat kebaya led me inside without saying much. She simply pointed to a carved wooden door near the staircase.
I stopped in front of it. Took a deep breath.
Nerves creeping in.
I knocked.
Inside, the room looked more like a vintage library than a psychic's office.
And there she was — an elderly woman, dressed in modern brown lurik cloth and a traditional jarik tied neatly around her waist. A moss-green woven scarf draped softly around her neck. A black velvet mask covered part of her face. Her silver hair was pulled into a pristine bun, wrapped in pale gray fabric.
She was flipping through a weathered book and didn't look up.
"Sit," she said curtly.
I obeyed slowly, hands cold. The room was too quiet. Too still. Yet oddly calming.
"What's your problem?" she asked, eyes still on her book.
"Love," I answered softly.
"What kind of love?"
"Being cheated on. Over and over again."
She finally closed the book and stared at me.
Long and deep — like she was diving into something inside me.
A few seconds passed in silence, though they felt like hours.
Then she said quietly,
"You're paying for past karma."
My chest hollowed instantly.
"What do you mean?" I whispered.
"What's your full name?"
"Cayra."
"Full name."
"Cayra Ayudhia Astagina."
She went quiet again, then extended her hand.
"May I see your ID?"
I hesitated. "Why?"
"I don't guess. I read. And I only read once I know a person's full name."
Still unsure, I handed over my ID card.
She read it silently. Her expression shifted.
Surprise? Recognition?
Definitely something not casual.
"You graduated from Gravia Asteria High School?"
I nodded. "Yeah. Why?"
She leaned back, eyes locked on me again.
Then, in a soft voice, almost a murmur, she said:
"You left someone behind."
I swallowed hard.
"A nerdy boy. You've probably forgotten him. But he hasn't.
And the universe never forgets."
"Sorry… what?"
She closed my ID and handed it back. A faint smile played behind her mask.
"You know who I'm talking about.
Because right now… your skin just got goosebumps."
I looked down at my ID.
And just like that — a face appeared in my head.
I know exactly who she means.
I laughed. Not because it was funny.
But because the past just slapped me across the face — gently, and with cold hands.
~~~
I stepped out of Mbah Sarmini's house with one sentence echoing in my head:
"You're paying for past karma."
It felt like being punched by a memory I never invited.
Uncalled for. But it still hurt.
So what now?
Find that guy and apologize just to break the curse?
Theoretically, yes.
But in reality? My pride is taller than the BTS tower in downtown.
Yes, I know. I'm not just stubborn — I'm egotistical.
Maybe that's why I kept getting cheated on.
I admit it now. But please don't record this.
I let out a shaky breath. I wanted to cry, but the tears were out of stock.
Maybe I was never meant to experience sweet, fluffy love.
Maybe I was put on Earth to be the cautionary tale of every tragic love story.
The late afternoon sun was still hanging lazily in the sky as I made my way to the local motorbike taxi stand — basically a tiny shack that functioned as an unofficial bus stop for people escaping reality.
Just as I arrived, a driver quickly started his engine and pulled up.
Efficient. Sensitive. A godsend.
Thank goodness I didn't have to say a word — my social battery was already flashing at 9%.
I sank into the seat and leaned back, feeling like I was wrapped in a warm blanket after a storm.
The motorbike rolled down the sloping streets of Candraloka Village.
Cool air kissed my face.
The driver remained silent — maybe he could tell I looked more drained than stock prices during a recession.
A few minutes later, we reached the Elf stop.
Same place as this morning. But I didn't feel the same.
Earlier I came full of hope.
Now I was leaving with a diagnosis.
I asked the Elf driver if he could drop me off near my neighborhood.
His answer made me want to hug him: "Sure."
That meant I didn't need another ride home.
One good thing on this cursed day.
I boarded the almost-full Elf, found an empty seat, and leaned against the window.
Eyes empty. Body tired.
Heart? Even more exhausted.
If I could choose, I'd rather work overtime on a 50-slide presentation than go through this day again.
But if I hadn't visited Mbah Sarmini today, I wouldn't have known…
That all of this — the heartbreak, the betrayals — were debts from the past.
And apparently, the price is high.
Because that nerdy face? It wouldn't stop appearing in my head.
This might be the most ridiculous karma in romance history.
Not because I got cheated on.
But because I'm being punished… by someone I didn't even remember existed.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzed.
A WhatsApp message from Tasha popped up on my screen:
"Caca, YOU HAVE TO GO TOMORROW!!!
If you don't, your CAREER IS ON THE LINE!!!
This client is EXTREMELY IMPORTANT!!!"
I groaned and rolled my eyes.
Tasha always uses caps lock when she panics.
Like a student council speaker on election day.
But now I was curious.
How important could this client possibly be, to "threaten my career"?
Love problems weren't over.
Now work drama was knocking.
My life felt like a never-ending family soap opera.
God, can I please get one issue at a time?
Stop stacking them like weekend laundry. I'm not a logistics warehouse.
Right now, I felt like I'd already fallen…
And someone poured boiling bakso soup on me for good measure.
And maybe, somewhere out there, a certain nerdy boy is sipping his coffee…
smiling quietly — because the universe finally paid him back.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
I dragged myself home, my body no longer cooperating. My legs were weak. My head throbbed. My eyes were running on three watts of energy. I felt like I had just completed a three-day marathon—no sleep, no food, just fueled by tears and empty hope. But this wasn't about physical exhaustion. This was mental fatigue—pure emotional burnout served on a silver platter by life itself.
The sky had turned dark by the time I got off the minibus. It was half past six. The street was eerily quiet, just like my mood—unwilling to entertain even the slightest joke. No neighbors were hanging around munching on fried tofu or crispy snacks. The world was silent. Or maybe I was simply too drained to hear it.
I had no energy left to greet anyone. Even a polite social smile felt overpriced. The only thing I could think about was: bed. Pillow. Blanket. Sleep.
My steps were heavy, more like being dragged than walking. Sleepiness and exhaustion held hands like a perfect duet performing a farewell song. I wasn't even sure if I was still walking or just floating like some astral projection approaching my dream mattress.
If you're wondering why I didn't just call a ride-hailing service, the answer is simple—I was broke. I had spent nearly a million rupiah today. For what? Love. Turns out love doesn't just drain your heart—it empties your wallet, too.
For a corporate slave earning less than a trending skincare serum, that amount was no joke. Usually, I'd have to grind for days to save that much. But today? Gone in a flash—for a psychic's answer.
Speaking of psychics, I remembered Mbah Sarmini. After the consultation, I had prepared an envelope as a thank-you gift. But she told me to drop it into a small donation box in the corner. She said she never took a single cent from it.
If that's true, then how the heck did she end up with a house that looked like a hidden mountain villa for healing retreats? Was she born rich? Or was she some kind of spiritual sugar mommy from another realm? I had no brainpower left to solve the mystery of her finances.
What mattered now was that I finally knew why all my relationships failed. According to Mbah Sarmini, it was karma. Karma for leaving someone in the past. Someone who, apparently, had never really forgotten me.
I was still thinking about that as my feet touched the pavement in front of my house. My body kept moving forward, but then—bam—something solid stopped me. I had bumped into... something? Or someone?
My balance wavered. I was ready to fall. Honestly? I didn't care. Let me faceplant into the ground. Go ahead, gravity.
But weirdly enough, I didn't fall. My back didn't hit the floor. Instead, something caught me. Something firm. Warm. And... definitely human.
I opened my eyes slowly.
The porch light revealed a man's face. Sharp jawline. Calm eyes. Cold, but deep. Time slowed down. The world stopped spinning. It felt like I was in a slow-motion K-drama scene. We looked at each other. He looked at me like he knew me. I looked at him with a feeling I couldn't name.
For a second, I thought maybe I had died. Maybe this was the angel of death. But could the angel of death be this handsome?
Suddenly, my mom's voice broke the silence.
"Caca, you're home?"
I snapped out of it, instantly standing straight with whatever scraps of energy I had left. So I wasn't dead. If Mom could see me, I was definitely still alive. Or... was I in a parallel universe?
Mom walked over casually, like she had just witnessed the climax of a romantic drama and was still smiling about it.
"Perfect timing. You're home, and Saka's still here," she said so nonchalantly—like she was announcing tomorrow's weather forecast.
Saka?
I repeated the name silently. But my heart had already reacted. It started pounding—rude and restless.
"Saka?" I muttered. Barely audible. But of course Mom heard it. And probably the guy too.
"Yes, Saka. He went to Gravia Asteria High School, right? Wasn't he your friend?" she asked, still too chill for this earth. Then she smiled—that sweet, motherly smile that made me want to scream.
"Saka just bought the house across the street. He's our new neighbor."
The world froze.
I couldn't move. Couldn't speak. My brain was replaying one line over and over again.
Saka. New neighbor. House across the street.
Is this real?
I heard Mbah Sarmini's voice echoing in my head, like a horror movie narrator whispering a curse.
"Do you want to know why karma came for you?" she had asked. I nodded. "Because you were special to that man. You were his first love. And first loves... they leave deep marks. They're hard to forget... even now."
I looked at the man again. That face. That stare. Everything felt too familiar. Like a ghost from my past had decided to come back—tall and breathing.
So this is him?
The guy who supposedly never forgot me?
The one who now lives just steps away from my front door?
Is this a coincidence?
Or is the universe playing its own romcom script—one filled with booby traps made of nostalgia?
I didn't know the answer. But one thing was clear—my life just changed tonight. From tragic drama to romantic thriller with a plot twist no one saw coming.
And more importantly? Karma now has a face.
It breathes.
And I'm pretty sure—it's about to turn my life upside down.
Dear Karma, I get it. I messed up. But seriously? You didn't have to make him hot.