Arsyeela sat frozen in the driver's seat, hands still gripping the wheel even though the engine had been off for over an hour. She had just ordered a taxi for Nina and made sure her secretary got home safely. As for herself, she remained in the silent parking lot of the city park, letting her thoughts spin in every possible direction.
The conversation with her father kept echoing in her mind, like a broken recording forced to repeat itself.
She never understood why her father was so obsessed with the company throne.
—Flashback—
The backyard garden of her uncle's house was always too quiet. The garden lights lining the stone path cast a pale white glow, shining on her like spotlights she never asked for. The night wind rustled the leaves softly, but not enough to ease the pressure hanging in the air.
Arseno Pramatya stood near the large wooden table the family normally used for gatherings, both hands braced on its surface. His gaze was piercing—cold, firm, leaving no room to breathe.
"You must win that project, Arsyeela. There is no failure in the Pramatya family. Remember that," he ordered, his voice heavy and absolute.
Arsyeela's jaw tightened. She lowered her head—not in defiance, but in exhaustion. Too exhausted to explain that she had already given everything she had.
"This one decides everything," her father continued. "It's between you and Gina. You cannot lose to her. Not this time."
Her breath felt heavy, almost suffocated by demands that were painfully familiar. Her fingers trembled—quietly, subtly—a mixture of anger, fear, and deep, festering resentment. Yet she stood there silently, swallowing all of it down.
"This will determine your position as your grandfather's heir," his voice cut through the night again. "You carry the Pramatya name. Your mother and I depend on you. The whole family is watching."
Always like this. Always about the family. Always about the legacy. Never about her—what she felt, what she wanted, what was slowly breaking her apart.
Arsyeela wanted to say enough, wanted to say she wasn't anyone's pawn.
But she knew none of it would ever be heard.
So, she swallowed the truth and chose the one response that always ended the conversation, even if it never eased the weight inside her.
"Yes, Papa."
Her father nodded, as though that was more than enough. He saw nothing beyond those words. He didn't care, didn't want to care—because to Arseno Pramatya, the priority was never his daughter… but the shining family name she was expected to uphold.
—Flashback Ends—
"Hufft…" Arsyeela leaned back against the car seat, eyes squeezed shut. "How long do I have to live like this…? Why can't I have a normal family, even just for a moment?"
Her chest tightened. Her father's voice continued to echo—pressing, stabbing, judging.
"Two more weeks… can I even win that project?" she whispered. "I'm going to lose my mind if this keeps up…"
She didn't know how long she stayed like that—her car parked beside the quiet city park, streetlights casting faint reflections across the windshield. Time felt both frozen and painfully slow.
After hours of staring blankly ahead, Arsyeela finally took a deep breath and turned the engine back on.
"I can't go home today…"
Just the thought of hearing her father's voice again made her stomach twist. Instead, she chose to return to her apartment—the only place in her life that demanded nothing from her.
When she stepped inside, a small beep came from the kitchen clock.
beep… beep… beep…
Click.
"I stayed out too long… it's past one already." She rubbed her heavy face. "I should take a bath."
She undressed, stepped into the bathtub, and let the warm water seep into her skin. The heat slowly melted parts of the burden weighing on her shoulders—not completely gone, but enough to let her breathe.
After several minutes, she got up, changed into fresh clothes, and walked to her bedroom. The moment her body touched the mattress, her eyes dropped shut.
Arsyeela fell asleep—dreamless, silent, pulled into a soft, dark void by sheer exhaustion.
The Next Morning
Arsyeela was already dressed. Her black blazer sharpened her features, hiding a portion of last night's lingering fatigue. In the living room, Nina waited while double-checking the work schedule for the upcoming week.
"Let's go, Nina. We'll stop to buy something for the kids first," Arsyeela said, grabbing her bag. "It's going to be a tough day. We need extra fuel."
They stopped to buy pastries, coffee, and energy drinks for the team. After shopping, they headed straight to the office.
Ding!
The elevator stopped on the fifth floor. Even though it was still early and the office wasn't crowded yet, the familiar mix of paper and coffee already filled the air—offering a gentle warmth before the looming busyness of the day.
Nina placed the items neatly on an empty table in the corner. Meanwhile, Arsyeela went to her desk to review several important documents awaiting her signature.
"Nina, inform everyone. We're having a major meeting on the project in two hours," Arsyeela said without lifting her eyes. "And distribute these before the meeting starts. Make sure everyone attends."
"Yes, ma'am," Nina replied briskly.
Once everything was set in motion, Arsyeela's feet moved on their own—as if her body already knew where to go. She headed toward the place that, for the past few weeks, had become her only breathing space. A small, forgotten corner of the building—unimportant to others, yet her sanctuary.
A place she had discovered by accident… and without realizing, had become the only room where she could keep herself from falling apart.
The Place — Room 3B
The room sat at the end of the seventh-floor corridor—a quiet stretch where almost no one passed. The frosted glass door had no nameplate, and a small crack at the bottom made it look like a forgotten storage room. No one would ever guess it held anything meaningful inside.
But once the door pushed open, everything changed.
The small room felt like a hidden oasis. Faded cream walls blended with the gentle scent of wood and the earthy aroma from the large window facing a tiny garden outside. The morning sunlight slipped through the half-open curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room.
On one side stood stacks of old archive boxes—like relics trapped in time. A worn wooden table and a black folding chair sat in the middle, simple but enough. Near the window, an old gray sofa offered the softest spot to rest a weary head. A tiny shelf filled with old books and a little plant added an accidental warmth. In the corner, an empty water dispenser stood quietly, as if reminding her that this space had never been on anyone's priority list.
Silence filled the room. The ticking of the wall clock echoed clearly—a soothing rhythm that eased her breath.
Arsyeela sat on the sofa and closed her eyes. In this forgotten room, she could finally release the tightness in her chest, even if only for a moment.
When she finally felt stable enough to return to work, footsteps approached the door. Soft… but drawing nearer.
The room only had one door.
It opened—and Arsyeela's heart jumped.
Adrian.
He looked slightly surprised to see her, though he hid it quickly. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips—subtle, but unmistakably real.
"Oh." Adrian inhaled softly. "I thought this was… the restroom. Or a tiny meeting room." He rubbed the back of his neck as he closed the door slowly. "I've been getting lost and ending up here since my first day."
Arsyeela stared at him—somewhere between startled and unsure how to respond.
She stood, ready to leave, when his voice stopped her.
"Good morning, Ms. Arsyeela." His tone was gentle, like knocking politely instead of barging in. "I thought this room was empty. Sorry if I interrupted."
"It's fine," she replied shortly. "I was just about to leave anyway."
She paused.
"You come here often?"
Adrian gave a small, earnest smile—one that wasn't trying to impress anyone.
"At first, it was an accident. But… it's nice here, isn't it? Quiet. I stop by whenever my head feels too full."
There was warmth in his voice—something that made the room feel smaller, yet not suffocating.
Arsyeela murmured, barely audible, "I thought I was the only one who found this place…"
Adrian heard it, but chose not to comment.
Then he remembered why he had come. He reached into his canvas bag and pulled out a small paper bag of bread.
"I was actually looking for you," he said softly. "I… wanted to give you this."
He held it out, a bit awkwardly.
"For breakfast. You looked really tired yesterday."
Arsyeela looked at the paper bag, then at Adrian. Something inside her sank—
not romantically, not yet.
More like a warmth blooming from a small kindness she hadn't expected from anyone today.
She accepted it slowly.
"…Thank you."
Adrian nodded politely and stepped aside to give her space.
Arsyeela left first, gripping the paper bag tighter than she realized. In the quiet hallway, she stared at it—almost as if she had just received something far more meaningful than a cheap pastry.
For the first time that day, she exhaled—
not from exhaustion,
but because her heart had just been touched in a soft, simple way that slipped past her defenses.
And without her noticing—
Room 3B had just become the point where their fates quietly intersected.