The rain had begun to ease, leaving only a slowing drizzle. The air around Harapan Nusa High School was damp and cold, like a cloth that hadn't yet fully dried. The street in front of the school still reflected the pale light from the overcast sky, and puddles glinted like cracked glass.
The school gates were already half closed. The cleaning services were busy sweeping up the wet leaves clinging to the yard. Nayara walked slowly through the nearly empty hallways.
Her steps made a slight squeak every time her shoes hit the slippery floor. She had just finished a competition committee meeting that had been delayed. Almost everyone had gone home; even Nisa, who usually stayed until the end, had excused herself early that day because she was being picked up. Now it was just her.
She clutched her notebook, but her fingers trembled slightly. Her shoulders felt heavy, as if the backpack on her back was carrying more things than when she left for school that morning.
In the garden in front of the school, rainwater pooled under the tree. Its leaves swayed gently in the afternoon breeze. The sound of a leaking gutter ticked softly and steadily, like nature's version of a clock.
Nayara cautiously descended the front steps of the school. The sky cast a faint light, making everything appear grayish. In the distance, the sound of a motorcycle passed, then fell silent again.
The sound of the gate creaking broke the silence. The security guard on duty glanced over briefly, then said, "Waiting for pick-up, Nay?"
Nayara shook her head. "No, sir. I'm going to the bus stop. I'll take the bus home."
The security guard nodded before returning to his activities.
Nayara walked to a small bus stop a few dozen meters from the gate. The place had a zinc roof and half-open walls, with long benches with peeling paint. The street glistened wet, and the afternoon breeze bit gently against her skin.
She sat down. Her notebook clutched in her lap, while her bag remained slung over her shoulder. Her gaze was fixed straight ahead, but her thoughts were wandering.
The raindrops thumped against the tin roof, creating a slow rhythm that felt both soothing and empty. Nayara leaned her head against the wall of the bus stop and closed her eyes.
Her friend was right, Nayara was exhausted. Not just her body, but her mind as well. She hadn't been sleeping soundly lately. She still went to bed before ten as usual, but often woke up in the middle of the night and had trouble falling back asleep.
There was an inter-school debate competition coming up soon. Harapan Nusa High School was hosting, and Nayara wasn't just busy serving as a committee member, she was also busy preparing herself as a participant. She didn't want to embarrass her school. Everything had to be perfect.
But she was also human, with limitations. And now she felt overwhelmed.
There was too much to endure: lack of sleep, the pressure of the competition, the attention of teachers, the expectations of her parents, and the constant comments from her friends—"You're so great, Nay."
She took a deep breath, and a single tear escaped from the corner of her closed eye. It slowly flowed down her cold face.
Nayara hadn't meant to cry. But for once, she allowed herself to crack a little. It wasn't much—just a split second to make her chest feel better.
When she opened her eyes, she stared at the low, gray sky. Then she turned, and her body immediately tensed.
There was someone there. And that person was looking at her.
Raka Aditya Pramudya.
Nayara recognized him. The popular boy from 11th grade, Science 5 was standing a few steps away, just as shocked. His hair was slightly damp, his uniform too—he had clearly just been running out of the rain.
She often heard Raka's name mentioned. Many of her classmates were his admirers. Even Nisa had mentioned him a few times. "A really handsome basketball player," she said. But to Nayara, Raka was just a guy whose name was always in the top 10 of the school rankings, whose shots had won photography competitions.
Seeing him there—especially when she was crying—wasn't on Nayara's agenda for today.
Embarrassment struck quickly. She quickly took a breath and adjusted her expression. She considered smiling a little, but it would have looked too fake. So she chose to remain silent.
Fortunately, the green bus number 09 approached. Nayara stood up quickly and walked toward the bus door without looking back.
Meanwhile, Raka remained frozen in place, processing what he had just seen. He had come home late because of a group assignment and had to run out of the rain to get to the bus stop. He hadn't expected his lateness to lead him to see the most perfect girl in school crying. He couldn't really say she was crying, though. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say it was a slip.
Raka knew her. Everyone at school knew her—students, teachers, the vendors in the cafeteria, even the cleaning services. Nayara Maheswari was always as beautiful as her name.
But he never really paid attention to her. All this time, he only knew her as the girl who always be number one—an honor student, the student council president, a face often seen on the school banners. A figure too perfect to be touched by reality.
But that afternoon, what he saw wasn't an icon of perfection. But a person. Someone fragile, tired, and real.
Raka froze, unsure of what to do. His position was awkward, and perhaps Nayara felt the same. Before he could react, Nayara had already walked toward the bus and boarded it.
He saw her sitting by the window, her head slightly bowed. Raka followed her with his gaze until the bus turned at the end of the street and disappeared from view.
Only then did he realize something.
That… was the bus he was supposed to be on.
"Damn," he muttered under his breath.