That afternoon, class went on as usual.The lecturer's voice flowed flatly from the front, slides shifting one after another, while a few students took notes with half-hearted focus. Arya sat at his desk, his body facing the board, his eyes following the explanation—at least, that's how it looked.
In reality, his focus was fractured.
Every so often, Arya's gaze drifted toward Dinda.Not at Dinda herself, but at Rika.
Lately, Rika had been around Dinda a lot. Too often to be a coincidence. She watched Dinda closely—the way she spoke, the small laughs she let slip, even her expressions when responding to Anita's remarks. A few times, Arya caught Rika smiling to herself. A thin, strange smile, like someone savoring something intangible.
Does she miss being human? Arya wondered silently.
The question surfaced on its own, without intent or preparation. Along with it came another feeling, quietly slipping in—a sense of being left behind. Rika was still in the same room, still within sight, yet her attention was anchored elsewhere. Focused on another world. On Dinda. The distance felt real, growing slowly but surely.
The class bell finally rang.
Students began to stir. Chairs scraped, conversations returned. Arya stood up without glancing to the side. His face was cold, his demeanor indifferent. He didn't speak to Rika, didn't look at her even once, and walked out of the classroom alone, heading toward the cafeteria to meet Dio.
Usually, when Arya acted like that, Rika would follow him—complaining for not being invited, or popping up beside him with her usual chatter. But this time was different.
Rika didn't follow.
She was completely focused on Dinda, as if the world around her had shrunk into a single point of attention. Arya walked farther and farther away, and for the first time, he realized that it wasn't distance that made him alone—but attention that was no longer directed at him.
At noon, the cafeteria was at its peak.The clatter of spoons against plates, students' laughter, and food vendors shouting blended into a dull, exhausting hum. Most seats were taken, lines stretched long, and some students chose to eat standing up or wandered toward the small garden nearby.
That was where Dio was.
He sat casually on the grass, his back resting against the trunk of a leafy tree. One leg bent, the other stretched out. In his right hand was a plastic cup of coffee, already half-empty, while his gaze drifted aimlessly—whether he was observing the crowd or simply letting time pass was unclear.
Not long after, Arya approached.
His steps were slow, his shoulders slightly slumped, his face tangled as if his thoughts had been messy long before his hair ever was. He stopped right in front of Dio, skipping any small talk.
Dio looked up, scanned him from head to toe, then grinned.
"What?" he said lightly. "Get dumped?"
The teasing tone, the familiar half-joking, half-provocative smile—but Arya didn't respond. He stood there in silence for a few seconds, then suddenly grabbed the coffee from Dio's hand and drank it all in one go. No permission. No words. No expression.
Dio froze.
Looks like I misstepped this time, he muttered to himself, taking a slow breath and swallowing the comment that almost slipped out.
"Alright," Dio said instead, rising halfway and casually patting Arya's shoulder, as if trying to ease a weight he didn't fully understand. "Don't overthink what happened last night."
Arya finally turned to look at him.
His gaze was serious—too serious for casual cafeteria talk. There was something in his eyes: not anger, not sadness, but a restless unease that hadn't yet taken shape.
"So," Arya said flatly, deliberately cutting off the direction of the conversation, "when are we going again?"
It wasn't an ordinary question. More like a desperate attempt to grab onto any other topic—anything—to pull his mind away from what kept circling inside it.
Dio frowned.
He studied Arya a little longer, searching for an opening.
"What's actually wrong with you?" Dio asked at last, his voice lower now, equal parts curious and confused.
Before Arya could answer, a woman's voice interrupted from in front of them.
"You're Arya Prawisandha, right?"
Arya and Dio turned at the same time.
Standing there was Dinda—neat, polite, with a slightly hesitant yet resolute expression. Right behind her, unnoticed until then, Rika's head popped into view, grinning widely and waving cheerfully at Arya and Dio, as if her sudden appearance were the most natural thing in the world.
"I—yeah. What is it?" Arya asked, his voice lifting slightly in surprise. His shoulders tensed for a moment, as if he hadn't been ready to hear his name called—especially by someone he hadn't expected.
"I'm Dinda," she said briefly. "We're in the same course."
Her tone was flat, almost without inflection. She stood straight, hands relaxed at her sides, her gaze fixed on Arya—not sharp, but not particularly friendly either.
"I was called in by Pak Salman earlier," she continued. "He said my group arrangement was lacking and ended up rejecting it." She paused briefly, as if checking that Arya was still listening. "Then he suggested your name and asked me to invite you to join my group for next week's assignment."
The way Dinda explained it was tidy and efficient. Calm, firm, and oddly conveying two things at once: she did need an extra member, but she wouldn't care much if the offer was refused.
"Um… b-but—" Arya started, his words hanging, not yet fully formed.
Dinda cut in immediately—without rudeness, without emotion.
"I'm not forcing you," she said. "If you're interested, I'll be in Building One later this afternoon, before the student council meeting."
With that, she turned and left, not waiting for an answer, leaving Arya and Dio standing where they were. Her steps were calm, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a completed formality.
As soon as Dinda walked away, Rika hopped in excitement. She skipped over to Arya and casually sat beside him, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
"Come on," Rika said brightly. "This is your chance. Dinda already made the first move!"
Her face was optimistic, her voice cheerful, as if everything were obvious and simple. But Arya didn't respond. He didn't even look at her. Without a word, he stood up and walked away, leaving Dio and Rika behind.
Rika stared at Arya's retreating back, puffed out her cheeks in annoyance.
"Ughhh… he's really annoying," she grumbled.
Dio let out a small grin, glancing in Arya's direction as he disappeared into the crowd.
"Ah," he said quietly, "young romance."
"Romance?" Rika snapped her head toward him. "What's that?"
Dio chuckled. "A crazy ghost like you wouldn't understand."
He stood up and walked off in another direction, leaving Rika alone. She grumbled again, irritated at being abandoned without a satisfying explanation.
Yet just before he truly left, Dio cast a brief glance back at her. On Rika's face—behind the annoyance and muttered complaints—there was a faint smile. A subtle look of relief. Dio noticed it, but didn't dwell on it.
That afternoon, time felt strange. Slow. Heavy. No longer flowing the way it usually did—as if something had begun to shift, though its shape had yet to fully reveal itself.