The morning air in Bochum was notoriously bone-chilling, a frigid cold that turned Bima's every breath into a quickly dissipating cloud of white mist that hung in the atmosphere. As he approached the small Bochum II stadium, he was struck by an odd sensation, as if he had crossed a threshold into an entirely different world—a realm where the shiny synthetic turf gleamed invitingly under the pale morning sun and the empty stands stood like silent sentinels, offering only the faint echo of the coach's whistle as it punctuated the solitude of the training session. The occasional shouts of the German players, notably thick with their heavy accents, filled the air, providing a soundtrack to what felt like the birth of a new chapter in his life. Standing on the sidelines, Bima marveled at how his new cleats made contact with the grass for the very first time, while the blue Bochum II uniform encased him snugly, though it felt a bit stiff and not yet fully attuned to his body's contours.
This pivotal moment marked the second day of his preseason training. Despite the exhilarating thrill of having signed the contract and successfully passing his medical check, there lingered within Bima a heavy sentiment—a tightness in his chest akin to a suitcase that defiantly refused to close, stuffed full with memories of Clara, Aiden, and the multitude of unspoken secrets they had left behind in the bustling, vibrant life of Jakarta.
"Prasetya! Schnell!" bellowed Coach Herr Müller, a robust man in his fifties whose booming voice cut sharply through Bima's thoughts and disrupted his concentration. "No time for daydreaming! Sprint drills now!"
Startled by the sudden command, Bima quickly responded by sprinting to the starting line, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation. Next to him stood Lukas, a German striker with an impressive muscular build and arms adorned with intricate tattoos, who offered him a gentle nudge of encouragement. "Relax, Indo. Müller likes to yell, but trust me, he's actually a decent guy underneath all that bluster."
Bima offered a smile, nodding slowly in acknowledgment. "I'm Bima. Just arrived from Indonesia."
"Lukas," he replied with a laugh that seemed to cut through the coldness of the day. "Welcome to this hellishly cold place we call home," he added jokingly. "Are you a striker too? This means we'll be rivals."
As the whistle pierced the air, signaling the start of practice, the two began to run side by side, Bima drawing on the energy of the moment. He led the charge with long, steady strides, even though the icy air seemed to stab at his lungs with every inhalation. His knees were surprisingly stable, and his perspective of the expansive field was clear—this was what he had fantasized about for years, a vision coming to life before his very eyes. However, amidst the relentless sprint, the comforting but haunting image of Clara flashed across his mind: her radiant smile at the airport and her heartfelt promise to "wait for your first goal."
Training wrapped up at 11 a.m., and as the players dispersed towards their respective locker rooms, Bima opted to sit on a weathered bench, removing his shoes while a familiar voice broke the silence—Marco's enthusiastic call came through.
"Bim! How was your first day? Was Müller satisfied?" Marco inquired eagerly, his excitement palpable over the phone.
"It was quite intense, Mar," Bima responded, feeling his spirits lift slightly. "The atmosphere is very cold here, and sometimes the language is hard to grasp, but I genuinely like it. I managed to make two assists during the scrimmage," he added, a growing smile creeping onto his face.
"Fantastic! Next week, you'll play against Dortmund II in a friendly match. With your talent, you might even have a shot at being a starter. Has Clara sent you a message yet?" Marco continued, his curiosity evident.
Bima paused, glancing at his phone—there were five notifications from Clara: a cheerful photo of her suitcase for her upcoming PhD adventure, a funny meme that made him chuckle, and a poignant message saying, "I miss you." "Yes. She's preparing to head off to the Netherlands," he replied, his heart slightly heavy with emotion.
Marco let out a laugh. "Ah, long-distance romance amidst the backdrop of Europe—the adventure is just starting! But right now, focus on soccer. Score your first goal, and then the sponsors will come knocking on your door."
"Alright, Mar," Bima responded, though he felt as if his heart was still not quite ready for the journey ahead.
Within the bustling locker room, Lukas made his way over to him once more. "There's a party tonight for the new team members. You should definitely come! There'll be beer, music, and some beautiful girls from Bochum," he urged with a playful grin.
Bima hesitated, contemplating the idea. "I... am still in the adaptation phase. Maybe I'll pass this time," he said, unsure of himself.
Lukas shrugged nonchalantly. "Don't be so stiff, Indo. Here, we're like family. As the new striker, it's essential to get to know everyone."
Bima nodded slowly, contemplating the camaraderie that awaited him. "Okay, I'll give it a shot."
That afternoon, in the modest apartment provided by the club—essentially just a one-room space complete with a tiny kitchen view of an empty garden—Bima opened his laptop to initiate a video call with Clara. Her face appeared on the screen, framed by a backdrop of her room in Jakarta, messy with scattered suitcases.
"Bim! How's life in Bochum treating you?" Clara asked with a sparkle in her eyes, her enthusiasm infectious.
"It's really cold, Clar. But the field is fantastic! I even managed to rack up two assists, though the coach seems to enjoy yelling; his instructions are still super helpful," Bima shared, pointing out a proud photo of the training field displayed on his cell phone.
Clara clapped her hands in delight. "When will you score your first goal, dear? I'm so eagerly waiting for those goal highlights!"
Bima chuckled. "There's a friendly match next week. How's your packing going?"
Clara held her suitcase up in front of the camera. "I'm leaving tomorrow! Aiden is going to drive me to the airport."
The moment he heard Aiden's name, Bima felt a rush of mixed emotions, and his smile slightly faltered. "He's certainly treating you well, isn't he?"
Clara hesitated, her brow slightly furrowing. "Yes… He's always there for me. Just today, he sent me a thoughtful message saying, 'Don't forget to eat breakfast before you fly.'"
Bima nodded slowly, a hint of jealousy lurking behind his calm demeanor. "He certainly cares for you," he said, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of emotion.
Clara fixed her gaze on the screen, an earnest expression settling over her features. "Bim… are you feeling jealous?"
Bima remained quiet for a lengthy moment before finally answering. "Yes. But I trust you completely. Our secret remains safe, right?"
Clara's face brightened as she nodded quickly. "Of course! I promise that it won't ever leak out."
Suddenly, their call was interrupted by the sound of notifications—an incoming message from a group chat including the three of them. Aiden shared a triumphant photo from the recent WHO webinar: "Friends! My project reached the final stage! Let's plan another reunion!"
Bima and Clara exchanged awkward glances, understanding the implications of Aiden's excitement. "He seems really thrilled," Clara commented softly.
"Yes, he indeed has a real passion for what he does," Bima replied quietly, the weight of his unresolved feelings becoming more pronounced.
That night, driven by both curiosity and a yearning to connect, Bima made the decision to attend the team party at the local Bochum pub. The pulsating sound of techno music filled the air, thick with lively energy, the flow of beer became almost endless, and the players joyfully sang their team's anthem with an infectious enthusiasm. Lukas raised his glass high. "To Bima, the first Indonesian striker at Bochum II!"
The cheers were ecstatically loud, echoing in his ears as Bima raised his own glass, taking a modest sip. A striking blonde girl sauntered over to him, her eyes sparkling with interest. "You're one of the new players, right? Your accent has this exotic, sexy vibe!"
Bima smiled politely, feeling a mix of slight embarrassment and charm in her compliment. "Thank you! I just arrived and am still battling the jet lag."
Lukas was quick to tease him. "He's just being shy! Bima, come on, share with us about your goals back in Indonesia!"
Bima briefly recounted his experience in a local tournament, igniting yet more raucous cheers from his newfound friends. Yet, amid the raucous laughter and vibrant atmosphere, his cell phone continued to vibrate incessantly—messages from Clara flooded in: "Aiden is taking me to the airport tomorrow. Please pray for my safety."
An accompanying selfie of Clara and Aiden at a cozy café displayed their wide, cheerful smiles. Bima felt a pang of heaviness settle deep within him. He closed his phone, taking another drink of beer, muttering softly to himself, "The secret is safe." Nevertheless, as he gazed around the pulsating party in Bochum, it struck him that the night felt far colder than even the chill of the stadium field he had wholeheartedly embraced just days before.
The following morning, Clara arrived in Amsterdam, and Aiden eagerly messaged her: "Welcome to Europe! I'll be eagerly awaiting the stories you have to share."
Meanwhile, in Bochum, the business of morning training resumed, and Bima once again managed to impress with another assist. Yet the shadows of his former life in Jakarta loomed ever larger in his mind, creating an omnipresent weight that hung heavily over his thoughts. Their secret remained carefully tucked away, but the cracks were beginning to form, and the distance that had once seemed manageable now felt like an impassable divide—reminding him that even though miles separated them, the emotional distance between their hearts was becoming glaringly apparent, revealing changes that could not simply be masked by geography.
***
The soft Dutch morning light, gentle and golden, streamed through the window of Clara's student dorm room at Utrecht University, gradually coaxing her from the depths of her restless and frequently interrupted sleep. As she disentangled herself from the warmth of her thick blanket, she sat on the edge of her narrow bed, absorbing the emptiness that encompassed her heart. In that moment, her gaze inevitably drifted to the familiar sight of her surroundings: an array of thick, serious-looking books, titles such as 'Trauma-Informed Care in Post-Disaster Communities' and 'Neuroplasticity and Resilience,' lay scattered across her small, cluttered study desk. These texts were not just academic resources; they embodied her deep-seated ambitions and aspirations, yet they simultaneously served as a substantial source of pressure, making her sleep less restful and more fraught with anxiety. Meanwhile, outside her room, the canals of Utrecht appeared mesmerizingly serene and beautifully tranquil, reflecting the delicate harmony of everyday Dutch life, where bicycles scurried by with a sense of purpose and ease. Yet, despite this peaceful exterior, inside Clara's chest, a fierce storm of emotions raged on, refusing to subside and only amplifying her internal turmoil.
This marked her third day in the Netherlands, a place she had dreamed of being for so long. The dedicated orientation period for the PhD program had officially come to an end, and the research lab she had so eagerly anticipated was finally set to be unveiled. However, as she prepared to embrace this exciting new chapter in her academic journey, her mind felt tethered to a place far away, more specifically, to the two special men whose absence weighed heavily upon her heart. Her cell phone, resting softly against her pillow, vibrated quietly, casting a soft glow in the dim light, signaling the arrival of two unopened messages that awaited her attention.
The first notification was from Bima, his playful tone resonating through the words he had typed: "I assisted with the morning training again! It's really cold here; I miss the heat of Jakarta with you. Reply to my chat, okay?" And then there was Aiden's message: "Good morning, Utrecht! How was your first day in the lab? I sent you an e-book about AI mental health, it's perfect for your research. And I miss you." Clara found herself torn as she glanced back and forth between the two messages, her mind wrestling with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Her fingers hovered hesitantly over the keyboard, as if they were weighing the significance of each word, knowing that while the secret of her relationship with Bima remained safely tucked away behind thousands of kilometers that stretched between them, every affectionate word from Aiden tightened the grip of anxiety and yearning in her heart.
Finally, after much internal deliberation, she chose to reply to Bima first, feeling a spark of energy as she crafted her message. "Way to go, my striker! I miss you too. Take care of your knee. It's cold here, but the view is beautiful." Alongside her words, she attached a photo of the picturesque Utrecht canal, hoping it would provide a glimpse into her new world.
Shifting her focus, she then turned to Aiden's message, crafting her response with a mixture of enthusiasm and caution: "Thanks for the e-book! The lab is cool, and the lecturers are friendly. I miss Jakarta too. How's the WHO webinar going?" Clara sent the messages off into the digital ether, feeling a momentary flutter of connection, yet the burden in her heart lingered, unresolved.
Aiden's reply arrived quickly, as though he had been waiting at the edge of his seat for her response. "The webinar is fine, but I miss you. Tell me about your days there. I want to know everything—the food, your friends, the weather, even if you're cold." Clara smiled faintly as she read his words, warmth spreading through her despite the heaviness she still carried. Yearning for closeness, she made the decision to initiate a video call with Aiden, her face appearing on his screen against the backdrop of her parents' office in Jakarta, a comforting cup of coffee clutched in her hand.
"Clar! You look so fresh this early in the morning," he greeted her, radiating unmistakable warmth and welcoming energy.
"The jet lag is gone. How about you? You look really tired," Clara replied, her eyes scanning Aiden's face for signs of fatigue, noting the subtle shadows beneath his eyes that hinted at a sleepless night.
Aiden rubbed his eyes wearily. "The webinar went on until dawn. But I'm so glad to see you're happy there. How was orientation? Are the lecturers as harsh as that German professor I told you about?"
Clara chuckled lightly, the mention of the infamous professor bringing back memories. "No, they're not! Prof. van der Meer is genuinely kind, and he focuses on refugee trauma research. I even got a pilot project for PTSD screening using AI—similar to your work!"
Aiden's expression brightened upon hearing her words. "Seriously? Send me the proposal; I would be happy to give you some feedback. We can collaborate!"
Clara nodded enthusiastically, excitement coursing through her. "Deal! You really are the best partner."
The words slipped out before she could catch them, yet Aiden seemed to seize on their significance. "Partner... I like that word. It's much better than 'friend' or 'buddy.'"
Aware of the emotional weight behind his words, Clara quickly redirected the conversation. "Hey, how's Bima? Have you chatted with him recently?"
Aiden nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. He mentioned that training in Bochum is brutal and really cold. I told him to be careful so he doesn't get injured again. The three of us should definitely get together again soon."
Clara forced a stiff smile in response, masking the complex emotions swirling within her. "That would be fun."
Aiden leaned closer, his gaze locking onto the camera more intently. "Clar... I'm serious about what I said yesterday. I'm waiting for you. I'm not trying to pressure you into anything, but I want you to know I'm always here for you. Whenever you need a shoulder to lean on, just reach out to me. I'm ready."
Clara swallowed hard, attempting to rein in her spiraling emotions. "Den... you're too good. I'm afraid I'm not worthy."
"You're completely worthy," Aiden replied firmly and with unwavering confidence. "You're the one who made me believe in the future again. Your research there, my project here—we're the perfect team."
For a moment, Clara fell into silence, her heart racing as uncertainty clouded her mind. "Thanks, Den. I promise to tell you everything."
When the call finally came to an end, Clara turned her gaze back towards the canal outside her window, only to find her phone vibrating once more—this time, Bima was sending her a playful video of his practice session. He expertly assisted a goal and then gave a cheeky thumbs-up to the camera, his shirt damp with sweat and the joyful caption: "For you, Clara, my love."
Without hesitation, Clara replied, the words flowing out before she could stop herself: "The next goal is for us."
That afternoon, Clara hurriedly made her way to the modern research lab that awaited her, where state-of-the-art computers lined the room and an international team buzzed with anticipation. Prof. van der Meer greeted her with genuine warmth and boundless enthusiasm. "Clara! Welcome. For the project on PTSD screening—you can lead the pilot data for Indonesia. Can you handle that?"
"Absolutely, Prof!" Clara exclaimed, her voice brimming with burning enthusiasm.
The discussion within the lab unfolded with lively debates and passionate exchanges, covering topics such as machine learning algorithms for trauma detection derived from wearable data, in addition to collaboration with various NGOs scattered throughout Europe. Clara contributed her own experiences from community service, impressing her colleagues and highlighting the invaluable nature of her real-world data from Southeast Asia. "You have very rare real-world data from Southeast Asia!" one of her Dutch colleagues remarked in awe, recognizing the significance of her contributions.
However, amidst all the excitement, Clara felt her phone vibrating once again—Aiden had sent her yet another link to a scholarly article on AI mental health, stating, "This is relevant to your research. Please read it! And can we schedule a video call later?"
Once more, Clara smiled despite the weight that still pressed on her heart. That night, as she strolled through the enchanting city of Utrecht, adorned with mesmerizing canals, spirited cyclists, and tempting cozy cafes, she felt an undeniable sense of longing and dislocation. She sent a message to Bima: "Utrecht is so beautiful. But I truly miss Jakarta and you, dear."
Bima's reply was quick and heartfelt: "Bochum is cold. But you are always in my thoughts, so it keeps me warm."
Then, Aiden's call came through again: "Clar, have you had a chance to read the paper? I'll explain it to you tomorrow."
Clara answered all the messages and calls with diligence, yet that night proved difficult for her as sleep eluded her grasp. The secret she held was safe within her heart, yet the distance between her and her loved ones did little to erase the clouds of guilt that loomed over her. With Aiden drawing nearer and Bima's affectionate reminders echoing in her mind, Clara found herself ensnared in a tumultuous emotional struggle, where the weight of her secret grew heavier with each passing day.
Could this secret truly last forever? Or would the impending reunion finally present the moment to confront the truth and put an end to all this emotional turmoil? The uncertainty loomed over Clara like a dark cloud, adding yet another layer of complexity to her already intricate and tangled life.