Restrictions were loosened. Slowly, yes—but steadily.
My parents were in their seventies now. Though they usually lived with my younger sister, they seemed happier this way—surrounded by grandkids, filling their days with the kind of noise that kept them smiling. Since schools were still running online, we decided we'd take it slow. Adjust gradually. No rush.
There was still time.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, I felt that maybe… this version of "normal" wasn't something I needed to leave behind completely.
Living through these times meant taking joy in the small things. Keeping my hopes steady. And when the moment finally came, I got to do something I'd been longing for—I met up with Auriel.
Our usual café in South Jakarta was still under restrictions. No indoor seating, limited service. But trust Auriel to find a hidden gem. She texted me with the enthusiasm only she could pull off:
"You'll love this place. Homemade everything. Quiet. Owner's a butcher. Menu's are our basics : meat and all kind of meat."
I didn't need more convincing.
The café sat tucked in the corner of a residential area, half-hidden behind flowering hedges and a sleepy wooden gate. It was part indoor, part open-air patio. The breeze ran through gently, and the smells—roasted meat, herbs, fresh milk froth—made me instantly relax.
It was perfect. Private. Uncrowded. And very us.
Hug—tight, long, not our usual cheek-to-cheek peck from the old days. It wasn't planned. It just happened. My body moved before my brain caught up. Maybe I needed it more than I realized.
Auriel responded the same way. No hesitation. Just warmth, bone-deep and solid.
"I missed you." She mumbled against my shoulder.
"I know. Me too."
We pulled apart slowly, laughing at ourselves, and headed inside. The place was half-empty, quiet in the best kind of way. She picked a cozy couple's seat in the corner—two cushioned chairs angled toward each other, with just enough distance for plates and privacy.
The sun filtered through the high windows, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor. Everything felt calm. Real.
We ordered without looking at the menu too long—she knew what she wanted, and I trusted her instincts.
"Feels weird, right?" I said after a moment, settling into my seat.
"Meeting in person like this after so long. Almost forgot we're made of actual flesh and not just voice notes."
She grinned. "Tell me about it. You looked taller in my WhatsApp camera."
I laughed.
Then she gave me that look again—half teasing, half reading my energy like a radar.
"So. Where do we begin?"
I looked at her, my narrowed like I already knew the answer.
"You, of course. You and your COVID scare." I let out a huff.
"You got me anxious with those cryptic updates. Saying you gave all your meds to your son?"
She grinned, a little sheepish, a little proud. "Well, he had the worst fever. I had to prioritize."
I leaned back. "There's a saying you need to save yourself first to safe others? And I know you got the medicine package for the three of you. Teddy told me that he sent his assistant right away to personally give it to you"
She looked sheepish. "Sorry I got anxious, okay!"
"Well, nobody has your calm on dealing with sick and wounded."
"Ooh, so it's all my fault now." We laughed, that sentence was our signature banter—mimicking the legendary scene from our teenage movie.
She shrugged, "It wasn't that bad"
"You always say that. Even when it is that bad."
She stirred her iced coffee, eyes briefly flicking away. "It helps me stay functional."
I sighed. "You are functional. Hyper-functional. But you're still allowed to fall apart, you know."
"Yeah, well… not in front of my kid."
Fair point. We sat with that truth for a moment, letting the quiet between us settle like sugar sinking to the bottom of the glass.
I looked around the quiet café—the clinking of cutlery from inside, the slow hum of a warm Jakarta afternoon. It was good to see her again. To really see her.
"You know I was scared," I said.
She didn't ask, 'of what?' She just nodded, as if she'd been waiting for me to say it.
"The attack. I saw it" My voice caught in my throat, surprising even me. Her gaze on me deepened.
As we both psychic, we both saw things others couldn't—the mystical, the magic, the bad intentions people hid. Especially for Auriel who dealt with high level clients.
"I know," she said quietly. We talked in our language on that for a while.
I reached across the table, flicked her fingers. "Next time just tell me. I'm not some random contact on your phone, okay?"
She smiled at me, that familiar twist of sarcasm and affection. "You'd drive me nuts with your overly concern."
"Exactly," I said. "That's love."
She gave a small laugh, but her eyes softened. Then she tilted her head slightly and asked, "So... Kaelen?"
I blinked. "What about him?"
"Oh come on. I felt that shift from a mile away."
I groaned, sinking back into my chair. "You always do."
"Tell me everything you haven't said out loud."
I looked at her, at that face that's held space for me through heartbreaks, breakdowns, bad dates, broken contracts, and dead ancestors whispering in my sleep. She wasn't just asking for gossip. She was asking for the part of the story I kept buried.
I took a slow breath.
"I think I'm falling for him," I said, finally.
She didn't react—not immediately. Just kept looking at me like she already knew, but needed me to say it first.
"But it's different," I added quickly. "It's not… not like I'm swept away. It's quieter. He doesn't demand space. He just… stays. Consistently. Like air."
"Mm," she hummed, nodding once. "Steady men are dangerous like that."
I laughed. "What do you mean?"
"They don't give you drama to hide behind. So you have to face yourself."
I looked down at my drink, the condensation leaving a ring on the wooden table. "Yeah. That's the problem."
She tilted her head. "Still feel like you're waiting?"
I nodded. "Like something should've happened by now. A sign. A vision. A breakdown. Something. But everything's… smooth. And somehow, that's more terrifying."
"Because you've always equated stillness with the eye of the storm," she said.
"Exactly."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice lower now. "Maybe it's not the eye of the storm. Maybe it's just peace. Maybe you've never stayed long enough to recognize what that feels like."
That landed somewhere deep in my chest. I sat with it for a moment, not responding.
"You scared it won't last?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No. I'm scared it will."
"You know that usually—I emphasize usually—there's a voice that says, 'it won't last'." I sighed, fingers circling the rim of my glass. "I haven't got any of that with Kaelen."
She smirked, her lip curling just slightly. "And it's freaking you out."
"Well… not to the point of freaking out. But unusual things make me giddy."
"Oh, you and your gears," she rolled her eyes, dramatic enough to make me snort. "Control freaks."
This time I was the one who looked sheepish.
She leaned in, eyes a little more serious now. "Maybe this is the first time the universe doesn't have to warn you. Because there's nothing to fix. Nothing to escape."
I blinked at her, then narrowed my eyes. "Okay, are you being wise or are you quoting some Pinterest board?"
"Both," she said, sipping casually. "Also TikTok. I'm modern now."
I laughed, but inside, something softened.
That was the thing about Auriel. She could read the script under the script. I didn't have to confess the tangled parts out loud. She already saw them, and still chose to sit across from me, unflinching.
I looked out toward the half-covered patio of the café. The light was beginning to shift—late afternoon melting into gold. I watched people pass by, masked and tired, but moving. Something about that moment felt still. Like my inner chaos had been paused just long enough to breathe.
Auriel tapped her spoon on her empty glass. "So… what now?"
I shrugged. "I don't know."
She grinned. "Now that's a breakthrough."
Restrictions were loosened. Slowly, yes—but steadily.
My parents were in their seventies now. Though they usually lived with my younger sister, they seemed happier this way—surrounded by grandkids, filling their days with the kind of noise that kept them smiling. Since schools were still running online, we decided we'd take it slow. Adjust gradually. No rush.
There was still time.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, I felt that maybe… this version of "normal" wasn't something I needed to leave behind completely.
Living through these times meant taking joy in the small things. Keeping my hopes steady. And when the moment finally came, I got to do something I'd been longing for—I met up with Auriel.
Our usual café in South Jakarta was still under restrictions. No indoor seating, limited service. But trust Auriel to find a hidden gem. She texted me with the enthusiasm only she could pull off:
"You'll love this place. Homemade everything. Quiet. Owner's a butcher. Menu's are our basics : meat and all kind of meat."
I didn't need more convincing.
The café sat tucked in the corner of a residential area, half-hidden behind flowering hedges and a sleepy wooden gate. It was part indoor, part open-air patio. The breeze ran through gently, and the smells—roasted meat, herbs, fresh milk froth—made me instantly relax.
It was perfect. Private. Uncrowded. And very us.
Hug—tight, long, not our usual cheek-to-cheek peck from the old days. It wasn't planned. It just happened. My body moved before my brain caught up. Maybe I needed it more than I realized.
Auriel responded the same way. No hesitation. Just warmth, bone-deep and solid.
"I missed you." She mumbled against my shoulder.
"I know. Me too."
We pulled apart slowly, laughing at ourselves, and headed inside. The place was half-empty, quiet in the best kind of way. She picked a cozy couple's seat in the corner—two cushioned chairs angled toward each other, with just enough distance for plates and privacy.
The sun filtered through the high windows, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor. Everything felt calm. Real.
We ordered without looking at the menu too long—she knew what she wanted, and I trusted her instincts.
"Feels weird, right?" I said after a moment, settling into my seat.
"Meeting in person like this after so long. Almost forgot we're made of actual flesh and not just voice notes."
She grinned. "Tell me about it. You looked taller in my WhatsApp camera."
I laughed.
Then she gave me that look again—half teasing, half reading my energy like a radar.
"So. Where do we begin?"
I looked at her, calm but squinting like I already knew the answer.
"You, of course. You and your COVID scare." I gave a little huff.
"You got me anxious with those cryptic updates. Saying you gave all your meds to your son?"
She grinned, a little sheepish, a little proud. "Well, he had the worst fever. I had to prioritize."
I leaned back. "There's a saying you need to save yourself first to safe others? And I know you got the medicine package for the three of you. Teddy told me that he sent his assistant right away to personally give it to you"
She looked sheepish. "Sorry I got anxious, okay!"
"Well, nobody has your calm on dealing with sick and wounded."
"Ooh, so it's all my fault now." We laughed, that sentence was our signature banter—mimicking the legendary scene from our teenage movie.
She shrugged, "It wasn't that bad"
"You always say that. Even when it is that bad."
She stirred her iced coffee, eyes briefly flicking away. "It helps me stay functional."
I sighed. "You are functional. Hyper-functional. But you're still allowed to fall apart, you know."
"Yeah, well… not in front of my kid."
Fair point. We sat with that truth for a moment, letting the quiet between us settle like sugar sinking to the bottom of the glass.
I looked around the quiet café—the clinking of cutlery from inside, the slow hum of a warm Jakarta afternoon. It was good to see her again. To really see her.
"You know I was scared," I said.
She didn't ask, 'of what?' She just nodded, as if she'd been waiting for me to say it.
"The attack. I saw it" My voice caught in my throat, surprising even me.
As we both psychic, we saw and sometimes did what other people couldn't see. What some people said mystical things, like magic—black or white magic—that we encounter. Sometimes people with bad intentions. Especially for Auriel who dealt with high level clients.
"I know," she said quietly. We talked in our language on that for a while.
I reached across the table, flicked her fingers. "Next time just tell me. I'm not some random contact on your phone, okay?"
She smiled at me, that familiar twist of sarcasm and affection. "You'd drive me nuts with your overly concern."
"Exactly," I said. "That's love."
She gave a small laugh, but her eyes softened. Then she tilted her head slightly and asked, "So... Kaelen?"
I blinked. "What about him?"
"Oh come on. I felt that shift from a mile away."
I groaned, sinking back into my chair. "You always do."
"Tell me everything you haven't said out loud."
I looked at her, at that face that's held space for me through heartbreaks, breakdowns, bad dates, broken contracts, and dead ancestors whispering in my sleep. She wasn't just asking for gossip. She was asking for the part of the story I kept buried.
I took a slow breath.
"I think I'm falling for him," I said, finally.
She didn't react—not immediately. Just kept looking at me like she already knew, but needed me to say it first.
"But it's different," I added quickly. "It's not… not like I'm swept away. It's quieter. He doesn't demand space. He just… stays. Consistently. Like air."
"Mm," she hummed, nodding once. "Steady men are dangerous like that."
I laughed. "What do you mean?"
"They don't give you drama to hide behind. So you have to face yourself."
I looked down at my drink, the condensation leaving a ring on the wooden table. "Yeah. That's the problem."
She tilted her head. "Still feel like you're waiting?"
I nodded. "Like something should've happened by now. A sign. A vision. A breakdown. Something. But everything's… smooth. And somehow, that's more terrifying."
"Because you've always equated stillness with the eye of the storm," she said.
"Exactly."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice lower now. "Maybe it's not the eye of the storm. Maybe it's just peace. Maybe you've never stayed long enough to recognize what that feels like."
That landed somewhere deep in my chest. I sat with it for a moment, not responding.
"You scared it won't last?" she asked.
I shook my head. "No. I'm scared it will."
"You know that usually—I emphasize usually—there's a voice that says, 'it won't last'." I sighed, fingers circling the rim of my glass. "I haven't got any of that with Kaelen."
She smirked, her lip curling just slightly. "And it's freaking you out."
"Well… not to the point of freaking out. But unusual things make me giddy."
"Oh, you and your gears," she rolled her eyes, dramatic enough to make me snort. "Control freaks."
This time I was the one who looked sheepish.
She leaned in, eyes a little more serious now. "Maybe this is the first time the universe doesn't have to warn you. Because there's nothing to fix. Nothing to escape."
I blinked at her, then narrowed my eyes. "Okay, are you being wise or are you quoting some Pinterest board?"
"Both," she said, sipping casually. "Also TikTok. I'm modern now."
I laughed, but inside, something softened.
That was the thing about Auriel. She could read the script under the script. I didn't have to confess the tangled parts out loud. She already saw them, and still chose to sit across from me, unflinching.
I looked out toward the half-covered patio of the café. The light was beginning to shift—late afternoon melting into gold. I watch myed people pass by, masked and tired, but moving. Something about that moment felt still. Like my inner chaos had been paused just long enough to breathe.
Auriel tapped her spoon on her empty glass. "So… what now?"
I shrugged. "I don't know."
She grinned. "Now that's a breakthrough."