The morning atmosphere in the city where Bima was studying for his master's degree in Civil Engineering always began with a thin fog covering the roads leading to campus. At 6 a.m., his phone alarm rings loudly, shattering his dream of a green field that is still vague. Bima growls softly, hits the off button on his phone, then wakes up with a body that is already accustomed to the crazy rhythm: morning classes, afternoon practice, night assignments.
He glanced at the schedule on the wall of his simple dorm room—a soccer tactics poster mixed with sheets of steel structure notes. Today: Advanced Structural Analysis class at 8 a.m., project report deadline at 12 p.m., team practice at 4 p.m., trial match tomorrow.
"A devilish routine," he muttered as he stretched his sore legs from yesterday's session.
In the small kitchen, Bima quickly prepared an athlete's breakfast: oatmeal with a protein shake, boiled eggs, and a banana. His phone suddenly vibrated—a message from the city team coach.
Coach: "Bima, tomorrow's trial match is against the lower division team. You're starting as a striker. I hope you're not late. And remember: positioning, not just blind running."
Bima replied quickly: "Ready, Coach. I'll be there at 2 pm for warm-up."
Before he could finish his last bite, another message came in from his advisor:
"Bima, your project report is good, but there are revisions to the SAP2000 simulation section. Resend it before tonight. And the meeting tomorrow at 10 am is for the proposal defense."
Bima rubbed his face and laughed bitterly. "Proposal meeting in the morning, trial in the afternoon. My life is like a conflicting flight schedule."
He hurried to campus on his bike, the morning breeze greeting his face. In class, he sat in the front row, writing down structural dynamics formulas while occasionally glancing at his watch. His classmate, Alex, an Asian-American student, nudged his arm.
"Bro, you look really tired. What were you doing last night?" asked Alex as he opened his laptop.
Bima sighed. "Project and soccer practice. My team has a trial tomorrow."
Alex raised his eyebrows. "Are you serious? Civil engineering plus semi-pro football? I'm just studying and I'm already overwhelmed."
"It's my choice," replied Bima with a slight smile. "Besides, this is what makes me feel more alive."
Alex shook his head. "Respect. But be careful of burnout, man. Many athletes fail to finish college because they choose the wrong priorities."
Those words echoed in Bima's head throughout the lecture. He knew the risks—some of his teammates had already dropped out due to injuries or conflicting schedules.
That afternoon, in the computer lab, Bima tried to finish revising his report. The SAP2000 software ran slowly, simulating wind loads on suspension bridges. But his mind wandered to tomorrow's tactics: a cross from the left winger, a cut inside, or a hold-up play?
"Focus, Bim," he admonished himself.
Suddenly, the lab door opened. His advisor entered with a thick folder.
"Bima, have you finished the revision?" asked Prof. Harris in a firm voice.
"Yes, Prof. I sent it via email earlier," replied Bima as he closed the software.
Prof. Harris sat down next to him and opened his laptop. "Good. But tomorrow is the proposal defense, and you have to be able to explain why your model is more efficient than the ASCE standard. And Bima... I heard a rumor that you play semi-pro soccer?"
Bima was surprised but nodded. "Yes, Prof. But I promise it won't interfere with my studies."
The professor smiled slightly. "I understand what passion is. I used to be a college basketball player too. But remember: soccer can end at any time due to injury or age. But this master's degree is permanent. So please prioritize it."
Bima nodded seriously. "I understand, Professor. Thank you for your advice."
***
As evening approached, Bima was already on the training field. The cold air pierced his training jacket. The team had gathered: 20 players, a mix of locals and immigrants, all athletic. The coach, Mr. Donovan—a man in his 50s with a thick mustache—blew his whistle.
"Listen up! Tomorrow we have a trial match against Riverside FC. They are strong on counter-attacks. Bima, you lead the line. Positioning: pull their defenders, open up space for the wingers. No ego play!"
Bima nodded. "Yes, Coach!"
Training began: sprint intervals, passing drills, small-sided games. Bima was currently paired with a new winger, Marco, a blond Italian player.
"Pass it fast, Bim!" Marco shouts as he passes the ball hard.
Bima controls the ball perfectly with one touch, then curls a shot into the top corner. The net shakes. His teammates applaud.
"Nice one, Asian striker!" teases center back Jamal.
But soon after, a mistake occurred. In the scrimmage, Bima was too far forward, offside. The coach shouted: "Bima! Read the line! You're not a poacher anymore, you're a playmaker!"
Bima wiped his sweat and nodded. "Sorry, Coach!"
After practice, in the locker room, Marco approached Bima. "You're good, Bim. But you're too individual. Here, the team comes first."
Bima nodded. "I'm still adapting. In Indonesia, I had a more free role."
Marco laughed. "A free role is hard even at lower levels. Here, follow the system or die."
That night, Bima returned to the dorm at 9 PM and immediately opened his laptop. Proposal defense tomorrow morning. But his eyes were heavy. Then he ordered a protein bar and coffee from delivery.
His phone rang—a video call from his mother in Indonesia.
"Hello, son! Are you okay?" his mother's voice was warm.
"Yes, Mom. I'm exhausted after practice," Bima replied while stirring his coffee.
His mother frowned. "Practice again? What about your studies? Don't let your grades suffer because of soccer."
Bima smiled wearily. "I have my proposal defense tomorrow, Mom. I'm prioritizing it."
"Promise me. I'm proud that you're studying in America, don't ever waste it. Soccer is just a hobby, son."
"Yes, Mom. Pray for me."
After the call ended, Bima stared at the proposal screen. The structural formulas danced before his eyes. But in his head, the practice session replayed: offside, the coach angry, Marco giving advice.
"You can do it, Bim," he motivated himself. "Engineer and striker. Prove you can do it."
But in the corner of his heart, doubt began to creep in: how long can I handle this double pressure?
The next morning, the defense proposal was a success. Prof. Harris was satisfied: "Excellent, Bima. Keep it up."
In the afternoon, the trial match: Bima started, managed to score one assist, but his team lost 2-1. The coach: "Progress, but consistency is lacking."
Bima returned home late, his body exhausted, his mind racing. In bed, he opened social media—posting a photo of the field with the caption: "Two worlds, one heart. #EngineerStriker"
He received likes from Aiden and Clara. Aiden commented: "Awesome, bro. Your focus is inspiring."
Bima smiled. But as his eyes began to close, a nightmare came: he finally suffered a knee injury on the field, then the professor said "drop out," and his mother cried.
Bima's life now faced double pressure: the ambition to play semi-pro soccer in a foreign city, while also surviving a very strict master's program. The question hung in the air: how long could he hold on before one of them collapsed?
***
Since early morning, Clara had been busy at the campus psychology counseling clinic. It was common for there to be whispering voices, knocking on the door, and brief greetings during each counseling session she held. She sat calmly in her simple but warm room, the walls covered with posters about stress management and self-love. On her desk, her laptop was open, displaying today's patient case notes.
For a moment, Clara took a deep breath and looked out the window. The drizzling rain blurred her view. The outside world seemed quiet, but her mind was full of unresolved feelings and dilemmas involving Aiden and Bima.
A soft knock on the door interrupted her reverie. A student came in with a worried look, wanting to share his academic anxiety issues. Clara listened with empathy, conducting the session with her usual openness and warmth.
After the session, she wrote a short reflection in her notebook. "Being a support for others is indeed difficult, especially when your own soul is often unstable," she thought.
One of Clara's biggest challenges today was managing her own stress and anxiety, especially regarding her uncertain communication and relationship with Bima and Aiden. She tried hard to let go of that burden while working, but when she was alone, the feeling of emptiness returned.
In the afternoon, during a break at the campus cafeteria, Clara met her close friend, Sarah, who had been observing Clara's changes for a long time. They sat side by side.
"You look tired, Clara. Is everything still difficult?" Sarah asked gently.
Clara nodded. "Yes, I feel like I'm an emotional 'dumping ground' for everyone, but I can't say anything. Sometimes I wonder... how long can I keep this up?"
Sarah held Clara's hand. "You're human, not a robot. Don't forget to take care of yourself."
Then Clara smiled wryly. "I know, but I'm afraid that if I'm too selfish, I'll end up losing the people I love."
They were silent for a moment. Clara then shared the story about Bima's voice message, the struggles and doubts they were feeling. Sarah listened attentively.
"Clara, maybe you need some time for yourself. Not to avoid them, but to recover and rediscover who you really are without depending on them."
That night, Clara sat on the balcony of her apartment. She opened her journal and wrote:
"My life is increasingly complex between studies, practice, and feelings. I'm learning to be a good listener, but being a listener to myself is much more difficult. I long for clarity, but I'm also learning to accept uncertainty. In every patient's story, I find a mirror of my own struggles."
A message from Aiden popped up:
"I see you're strong, Clara. Don't forget to rest when you need to."
Clara replied:
"Thank you. I'm trying, even though I'm tired sometimes."
She realized that taking slow but steady steps, finding a balance between taking care of others and taking care of herself, was the greatest struggle she had to face.
***
Aiden sat in a quiet corner of the campus library, surrounded by stacks of journals and a laptop displaying a screen full of Python code. The cold European winter air seeped through the thin windows, but his focus remained undisturbed. He was perfecting an AI model for early detection of mental health disorders—his master's thesis project in computer science, which was now in its final stages. The deadline for submitting his paper to a prestigious conference was only two weeks away.
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated. It was an unknown number with a German country code. Aiden frowned, but he answered it anyway.
"Hello?" His voice was flat in English.
"Mr. Aiden? This is SC Freiburg II, the Bundesliga 3 reserve team. I'm their scout, Herr Müller." The voice on the other end was firm, with a stiff German accent.
Aiden was silent for a moment, his heart suddenly beating faster. SC Freiburg II—a club whose home games he often watched at a small stadium near the campus. League 3. The Bundesliga, a fairly competitive semi-professional level, was the gateway to the German professional world.
"Yes, this is Aiden. What's up?" he asked cautiously.
"We've been monitoring your performance in the college league last year. Strong striker, good vision, accurate finishing. We need players like you for next season's squad. Trials are next week. Are you interested?"
Aiden swallowed hard. Memories of the past flashed through his mind: the green field, the cheering crowd, the fierce duel with Bima in the U-19s. But now? He had chosen a different path.
"I... appreciate the offer, Mr. Müller. But right now I'm still focused on my master's degree. My thesis deadline is coming up soon."
The scout chuckled softly. "We understand. Many of our players are part-time students. Flexible schedule. Decent pay for a student—€1,500 per month plus bonuses. And who knows, you might make it to the Bundesliga 2 first team."
Aiden stared at his laptop screen, which displayed a slowly flickering AI model graph. €1,500 a month meant financial freedom, professional experience, or maybe even reuniting with Bima at the same level someday. But...
"Thank you for the offer. I'll consider it and get back to you," he said politely.
"Alright. Don't take too long. Spots are limited." The call ended.
Aiden leaned back and rubbed his face. "Bundesliga 3... crazy," he muttered. He opened his browser and searched for Freiburg II highlights. Quick goals, high pressure, camera flashes. His body reacted—his old adrenaline rush returned. But his mind remained resistant.
That night, in Aiden's modest dorm room, the light from his desk lamp illuminated his thesis notes. He video called his advisor, Prof. Elena, a middle-aged woman with sharp eyes.
"Aiden, your model is solid. All that's left is ethical validation and real-world simulation. Are you ready for the presentation?" asked Prof. Elena.
"Yes, Prof. But... I got an unexpected offer earlier," Aiden hesitated. Then he told her about Freiburg II.
Prof. Elena nodded wisely. "Interesting. But remember, Aiden—soccer is temporary, science is permanent. I used to be a volleyball player too, but it was my academic career that brought me this far. What do you want to be in ten years?"
Aiden smiled slightly. "An AI engineer who has a positive impact on the development of the times, Prof. Not a player who will retire in his 30s."
"Good. Your priorities are clear. So just reject it."
After the call ended, Aiden opened a long-inactive group chat, where he had chats with Bima and Clara. He decided to send a screenshot of the offer to Bima.
Aiden: "Look at this. Freiburg II is offering a trial. What do you think?"
Bima replied quickly, his voice excited via voice note: "Den! Seriously?! Take it! Bundesliga 3, bro! I'm only at the city level, you're jumping much higher. We can compete together someday!"
Aiden typed: "I already turned it down. I want to focus on my thesis first. You go for it."
Bima: "Are you sure? A golden opportunity like this?"
Aiden: "I'm sure. I'm tired of racing with you. Now I want to run on my own track."
The next morning, Aiden contacted Herr Müller.
"Thank you for the offer from SC Freiburg II. But I still decline. I want to focus on my master's studies first."
"I'm very disappointed, but I understand. I wish you success," replied the scout.
That afternoon, Clara chatted with Aiden: "I heard about your offer. And I'm proud that you chose to study. That's a mature decision."
Aiden: "Thanks. Sometimes choosing the difficult option brings more peace."
Aiden returned to his thesis, but this time with a steadier heart. The offer was a final test—not to be accepted, but to confirm the path he had chosen. Amidst the double pressure of the academic world, he learned that refusal was not defeat, but victory over himself.
***
Winter nights in Europe feel longer than usual. The sky is darker and thicker, illuminated only by the faint twinkling lights of the city. On three different continents, three old friends—Bima, Clara, and Aiden—unintentionally reconnected through a long-dormant group video call. The initiative came from Clara, who felt her emotional burden had reached its peak after that day's counseling session, which finally made her realize: the double pressure they were experiencing was not just individual, but a common thread that still bound the three of them together.
Clara started the call from her apartment balcony, the night breeze before dawn blowing through her hair. Her phone screen was divided into three: her own face in the middle, Bima with the messy soccer team locker room in the background, and Aiden in his dorm room with a pile of thesis papers behind him.
"Hi, you two," Clara greeted softly, her voice tired but still warm. "It's been so long... sorry I took the initiative. But today I really feel like I need to talk to you guys. Seriously."
Bima lifted his face from his water bottle, sweat still dripping from his forehead after that night's practice. "Clar? Seriously, you're calling at this hour? I was just about to go home from practice, my body is wrecked. But okay, how are you?"
Aiden, who was sitting in front of his laptop with red eyes from staying up late to work on his thesis revisions, smiled slightly. "Clara, it's Aiden. I'm chasing a conference deadline, but if you need me, I'm listening. What's up?"
Clara took a deep breath and hugged her knees. "I... today I handled a case of a student with severe burnout. He works while studying, just like you two. And I realize that I'm also experiencing double pressure: a full clinic, a thesis proposal that's at a standstill, plus... these thoughts that never settle about the three of us. How are you guys? Bima, you look really tired. Aiden, you must be fighting with your code."
Bima laughed bitterly, put down his bottle, and wiped his face with a towel. "Tired? That's an understatement. This morning, my master's proposal defense passed, and Prof. Harris said it was 'excellent'. In the afternoon, I practiced with the team, and tomorrow we have a trial match against the lower division team. Tonight, I'm working on a structural simulation report. I'm like a robot with 20% battery left. But strangely, I'm happy. It feels like I'm alive."
"Happy but exhausted," added Aiden, rubbing his eyes. "I'm the same. My AI thesis is almost finished, and I turned down an offer from Freiburg II yesterday. They were surprised, but I told them I'm prioritizing my studies first. Now I'm validating the ethics of the model—it's really hard to balance accuracy and data privacy. Every night I stay up late, but in the morning I have to present at a seminar. This double pressure makes me wonder: what am I really chasing?"
Clara nodded slowly, her eyes glistening. "That's it. I heard a similar story from a patient at the clinic today: 'I'm afraid of failing in two places at once.' I gave them advice on stress coping, mindfulness, time blocking. But when I got home, I couldn't apply it myself. My thesis proposal is stuck on the methodology part, the clinic is overloaded with post-pandemic trauma patients. Plus... I'm still thinking about you guys. Bima with your increasingly serious soccer, Aiden with your AI world that I admire but don't understand. Where am I?"
Bima leaned toward the camera, his face serious. "Clar, I'm thinking about that too. I saw Aiden's story about turning down Bundesliga 3—crazy, Den! I even want to jump in there. But I'm afraid that if I get injured or fail college, I'll lose everything. My mom called yesterday: 'Bima, don't waste your scholarship. Soccer is just a hobby.' I said 'Yes, Mom,' but my heart says otherwise."
Aiden shook his head slowly. "I understand, Bim. In the past, I would have taken that offer to chase after you. But now? I'm tired of racing. Prof. Elena said, 'Technology without morals is dangerous.' I want to create AI that can help many people, not just for achievements. The double pressure is heavy, but I'm learning to reject things that don't align with my vision."
Clara wiped away her tears. "You two are so strong. Me? I counsel others, but I feel like a puzzle with missing pieces. Sarah, my friend, said, 'Clara, you have to choose yourself first.' But choose what? Let you go? Or continue to be a spectator of your lives as they drift further and further away?"
A moment of silence. Only the sound of breathing and the night wind could be heard. Bima decided to speak first, his voice soft. "Clar, we used to compete: GPA, scholarships, love. Now this double pressure is a new test for me. I don't want us to fall apart because we don't communicate. I promise, if I get injured or drop out, I'll tell you first. You too, Den?"
Aiden nodded firmly. "I promise. And Clar, you're not alone. If you burn out, chat me. I can send you an AI model to track your mood, haha. Seriously, the three of us are at the same crossroads: academic pressure, personal passion, and the question 'am I good enough?'"
Clara smiled for the first time, even though her lips were trembling. "Thank you... guys. Maybe this isn't the end of the pressure, but it's the beginning of us supporting each other. I'll try to apply my own advice: daily journaling, an 8-hour work limit, and... contacting you guys if I feel unstable."
Bima gave a thumbs-up. "Deal. I'll update you on every match and defense proposal. What about you, Den?"
"Deal. I'll send you my thesis paper if it passes the review," Aiden replied.
The call ended with a small laugh and "take care." The screen went dark, but their hearts felt a little lighter. Bima lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling: "We'll survive, together even though we're far apart."
Clara closed her journal: "This double pressure taught me: it's okay to be tired, as long as you're not alone."
Aiden put away his laptop: "Everything starts again with a new promise: not to compete, but to support each other."
All of this ended not with a perfect victory, but with a realistic acknowledgment: the double pressure of modern students—academics vs. passion—is a shared struggle. The three of them, with old wounds and new dreams, chose to persevere, supporting each other, even though their respective paths were still long and winding.