On that particularly scorching midday in Jakarta, the relentless sun bore down with an intensity that made the asphalt roads shimmer, creating a mirage-like effect over the bustling streets where people hurriedly made their way around the BNI City Station area. The atmosphere was heavy with the sounds of cars, conversations, and the distant rush of trains. Amidst the throng of commuters and travelers, a solitary man named Bima found his seat on a weathered wooden bench situated in an open space, strategically facing the busy airport train tracks that linked the city to the world beyond. His attire was unassuming, characterized by a simple black hat perched atop his head and a plain T-shirt that blended seamlessly into the surrounding crowd, making him appear as just another face in the unending river of humanity. In his anxious grasp were two disparate pieces of paper; the first, a printed airline ticket for a significant flight journey, set to take him from Jakarta to Frankfurt, with a necessary stopover in bustling Doha, and the second, an important official acceptance letter that heralded his entry into the distinguished doctoral program at the University of Indonesia. However, beneath his calm exterior, his gaze flickered back to his cell phone screen, where an unanswered and pressing message from the Bochum II agent loomed ominously. The message read:
"Bima, we need your final answer today."
His heart raced as the weight of the decision he faced began to close in on him. Fortunately, his momentary gloom was interrupted just as Clara emerged from the lobby, lugging a tote bag that contained a meticulously organized folder and a sleek laptop. Her hair was neatly tied back, framing a face that bore an expression of calm intelligence, underscored by a pair of round glasses perched delicately on her nose. Despite the fatigue evident from the grind of the day, her gaze was steady and reassuring as she settled down next to Bima, placing a carefully labeled folder marked:
'Utrecht University – PhD Admission Package' on the small table that separated them.
She glanced around, fanning her face with the folder and remarked, "It's really hot, but you chose to meet here anyway," emphasizing the playful irony of their rendezvous.
Bima, attempting to lighten the somber mood, responded with a crooked smile that betrayed his apprehension. "So it feels like a 'departure gate.' The airport is far away, so the airport station is close enough," he replied, trying to find solace in their shared experience.
As Clara's curious eyes fell onto the papers in Bima's hands, she inquired, "Is that a real ticket?" Her voice held an air of curiosity mixed with the weight of their situation.
Bima affirmed her question with a calm nod, his gaze steady. "Yes. My agent already sent it. Departure date: two weeks from now. Frankfurt first, then on to Bochum. They already provided me with the preseason training schedule, medical check—everything is complete," he explained, his voice steadying as he spoke.
Clara swallowed slowly, her expression shifting slightly as she pushed the Utrecht folder gently in front of Bima. "I'm also set. The Netherlands, four years. Departure... three weeks from now," she revealed, her own future now intertwined with the choices before them.
Their eyes met, and for a brief but heavy moment, tension hung in the air, punctuated by the faint sound of train announcements echoing around them and the hurried footsteps of other commuters completely absorbed in their own destinations. Yet, in this bustling world, it felt as if time had suspended for just the two of them, their hearts racing, reflecting the weight of the decisions that loomed ahead.
"So... we're really choosing our own paths," Bima's voice came out soft, as if uttering a silent affirmation of the inevitability of their diverging journeys.
Clara leaned back, her gaze drifting toward the train tracks as tears threatened to spill from her eyes. "We're choosing our own dreams. But that doesn't mean 'alone,' right, Bim?" she gently questioned, seeking reassurance in their shared reality.
Bima let out a sigh steeped in bittersweet humor. He chuckled softly, a bitterness lacing his tone. "It's funny. When we were on Pulau Seribu, I thought, 'What if we were the solution? We get married, I take UI, you postpone going to the Netherlands, everything will be fine.' But the more I thought about it, the more I was scared—that's not courage, that's... escape."
Clara turned to him, offering a gentle, understanding gaze that spoke volumes. "I feel the same way. I thought, 'If I go to Bochum, I can be my boyfriend's loyal fan while looking for a job there.' But what if one day you get seriously injured and your soccer career comes to an abrupt end? I'm afraid you'll look at me and say, 'If it weren't for you, maybe I would have chosen someone else.'"
Bima's brow furrowed, a wave of uncertainty washing over him. "I would never say that," he quickly protested, as if trying to dispel the very notion.
"I know," Clara responded with assurance, her voice steady as she sought to comfort him. "But I don't want that possibility to exist."
Both fell into a contemplative silence. Bima tightened his grip around the ticket, the gravity of the decision weighing on him like a heavy fog. "Clara... what are we now?" he finally asked, searching her eyes for clarity.
Clara met his gaze deeply, her eyes revealing the blend of confusion and resolution within. "We are two people who love each other, but we both agree that love should not come at the cost of killing each other's dreams. We remain a couple, but... in a different form."
"LDR?" Bima ventured, attempting to encapsulate their situation with a shorthand label that would somehow make it easier to digest.
"LDR, yes. But it's not that heart-wrenching LDR where we wait around, losing ourselves until we're utterly exhausted. It's more like… two lines that run parallel for now, and we'll see where they intersect later," Clara suggested, a hint of hope glimmering in her smile. "I remember what you said at the café: 'If we're meant to be together, this thread will pull us back together someday.'"
Bima chuckled softly, scratching the back of his neck in admiration. "I didn't think my pretentious words would be remembered like that."
"I saved them," Clara replied softly, a tender expression crossing her features that moved him deeply. "Not simply because they're romantic, but because to me, it's the most sensible way for us to proceed. We can't pretend that nothing happened, but we also can't force ourselves to reach a conclusion at this moment."
Taking a deep breath, Bima pondered those sentiments unfolding in the air between them. "Okay. So your decision is: the Netherlands. It's final."
"Final," Clara affirmed resolutely, without a sliver of hesitation. "I'm going to pursue my PhD, and my focus will be on that. But… I won't lie to myself. I love you. I plan to keep in touch, to chat, to listen to your training frustrations, to hear about your professors, and to even discuss… Aiden."
Upon hearing that name, a quiet hush enveloped them, their eyes dropping in unison.
Bima's gaze fell upon his phone screen, where Aiden's last chat message lingered, the words still clear despite the delay:
Aiden: "Bro, be honest. Are you and Clara dating again?"
The message remained tantalizingly unanswered, two ticks glowing, as if waiting for a reply.
"Are you sure we're not going to tell Aiden?" Bima asked softly, caution lacing his words. "He's already suspicious."
Clara bit her lower lip, hesitating. "If I'm honest, I… I'm not ready to face Aiden's reaction if we say, 'Yes, we're dating and we've been keeping it from you all this time.' He's in the prime of his career, gearing up for NeurIPS, and then we drop this bombshell?"
"If we're honest, that should ultimately feel relieving," Bima suggested, attempting to provide another viewpoint.
"If we're honest now, we have to brace ourselves for his reaction," Clara countered in a more cautious tone. "Including if it turns out… he feels left out by the two people he trusts the most."
Bima fell silent, taking time to absorb Clara's words, her voice softening as she continued, "I'm not suggesting we hide it forever. But… can we tackle one issue at a time? You sign the contract, and I'll send my confirmation to the Netherlands. Let's stabilize our new lives first. After that... we can consider how best to be honest with Aiden when we're in a clearer state of mind."
Bima scrutinized Clara's expression for any sign of doubt, yet what he found was a blend of determination and concern for losing the two things that mattered most to them: their dreams and their friendships.
"So let's keep it a secret for now," Bima concluded, seeking reassurance in the notion.
Clara nodded slowly in agreement. "For now. Until we build the strength to face the consequences."
Turning to his phone, Bima quickly typed a reply to the Bochum agent:
"I'll sign. Please send me the final contract tonight."
He then showed the message to Clara. "I chose the path that if I didn't take it, I would regret for the rest of my life. There will still be time for me to pursue my doctorate later; I have plenty of time to become a professor."
Clara's eyes sparkled with unspoken emotions, her spirit visibly lifting. In response, she opened her email on her phone and decisively replied to the letter from Utrecht, her message steadfast:
"I am honored to accept the offer. Looking forward to contributing to the research group."
"Done," she stated, revealing her phone screen to Bima, a wave of relief washing over them both.
"We're crazy," Bima remarked incredulously, almost unable to believe the monumental decision they had made.
"We're brave," Clara assured him without pause. "And... we're being selfish in a healthy way."
Bima laughed briefly as he grasped Clara's hand tightly in his own, conveying all the swirling emotions that churned within his heart. "There's one more thing."
"What?" Clara queried, curiosity piqued.
"Amid all these rational decisions... can I ask for just one irrational moment?"
Clara's brow furrowed, confusion sweeping across her features. "What do you mean?"
Bima rose from the bench and gently pulled Clara up with him, momentarily disregarding the throng of commuters around them. He enveloped her in a warm, reassuring embrace, whispering tenderly into her ear amidst the cacophony of noise filling the station, "I love you, Clar. And I'm not asking for an answer now, or even tomorrow. I just want... for you to remember these words if one day you find yourself standing in the center of a strange city, feeling alone."
Clara's hold on him tightened, showing just how much this moment meant to her. "I love you too, Bim. And I don't want you to become one of those people who waits around in one city. I just wish that, if you ever find yourself standing in the hallway of a foreign stadium, feeling empty and disoriented, you will remember that there is someone who sees you as more than just a failed striker or a professor who is always late."
They shared a quiet chuckle, laughter lightening the mood as they released the weight of their fears through humor, momentarily easing the pain of their impending separation.
Once they settled back onto the bench, this time their hearts felt lighter. Clara turned to Bima, a feeling of calm relief washing over her. "When are you leaving?"
"In two weeks. You're leaving in three weeks. That gives us... one week of overlap in Jakarta before we each head off to different parts of Europe," he replied, the reality sinking in.
Clara nodded, reflecting on the implication of these words. "One week for us to practice letting go."
"And practice saying 'later' without assuming it means 'goodbye forever'," Bima added, attempting to find peace in the conclusion they had arrived at.
Just then, Bima's cell phone vibrated again, this time revealing a message from Aiden, a mutual friend they both cherished:
"Bro, my flight to Jakarta is set for early July. Let's have a reunion. Don't run off to Germany before I get there."
Bima turned the phone to Clara, displaying Aiden's message, capturing the delicate balance of their friendship in a fragile moment.
"He's coming sooner than we thought," Clara murmured softly, her mind occupied with thoughts of their blooming dilemma.
"This secret..." Bima swallowed anxiously. "...we probably won't be able to hold onto for long."
Clara's eyes remained fixed on the train tracks, now shimmering with the aftereffects of the rain. "Yes. But here, on this bench, there's one crucial thing we can do: be honest with ourselves first. As for Aiden… that can wait."
Outside, an airport train sped past, stirring the air around them and ruffling their hair. The two tickets to Europe rested on the table, symbolizing their desires, shifting slightly yet remaining grounded, as if to signify that their decisions were no longer merely about "where to go," but rather about "who they dared to be." Both of them prepared to accept the consequences that awaited them regarding that single person who was absent from their conversation that very day.
The delicate red thread connecting Bima and Clara tightened subtly, representing the closeness and fragility of their bond, while another thread, this one tied to Aiden, began to strain, heralding its own demands for deep honesty in the next chapter of their lives that was quietly unfolding.
***
A delicate and almost transparent layer of snow began to gently coat the small field nestled within the renowned historic German campus, transforming the landscape into a seemingly enchanted wonderland, its magical white surface illuminated under the soft and dim glow of the yellow spotlight that hung in the air. The piercing cold infiltrated every layer, chilling him to the bone, yet, paradoxically, the tranquility of the night offered its own unique and striking beauty, as if the world had nearly come to a standstill, allowing time itself to pause just to bear witness to such a serene and picturesque scene. Aiden found himself standing at the edge of the field, feeling the chill seep into his bones and shivering slightly in response to the wintry embrace; his old soccer shoes, worn and damp, were sunk deep into the muddy ground, forming an awkward connection with the earth beneath him, while the cold night air caused his breath to manifest as a thin, ethereal mist that spiraled upwards into the chilly atmosphere. The clandestine training sessions he had been diligently undertaking for the past several months as a playmaker had just reached their conclusion; he had immersed himself in a variety of practices, from honing his precision passes aimed at an unguarded target to agilely dribbling as he imagined himself weaving past cones which served as stand-ins for real-life opponents, all while simulating the intricate rhythm of the game from the attacking midfielder position—a role he had long aspired to embody. However, on this particular night, Aiden's mental focus was not on the ball or the nuances of his practice. Instead, nestled safely within the pocket of his thick jacket was a black velvet box, its delicate presence feeling incredibly significant, akin to a proverbial time bomb that could explode at any moment, holding the potential to irrevocably change the trajectory of his entire life.
"I have to say it now," Aiden muttered to himself, his voice soft yet imbued with unshakeable determination, as he gently kicked the ball towards the empty goal standing in front of him. "Before you leave for the Netherlands, before Bima signs his contract. If not now, then when?" With a resolute decision forming in his mind, he reached for his phone, navigating through the familiar interfaces to open the group chat that had kept him, Clara, and Bima connected for years, allowing memories to flow freely among the three friends. Scrolling through the messages, Aiden stumbled upon a recent text from Bima, radiating cheerfulness as he had sent a photo from a futsal practice in Jakarta, seemingly bursting with excitement and camaraderie. Meanwhile, Clara had added her own update, a story featuring her recent academic achievements as she prepared for her PhD journey in Utrecht, complete with an enthusiastic caption declaring, "The countdown begins." Aiden felt a familiar knot tighten in his stomach, suspicion clouding his mind regarding the growing closeness he observed between Bima and Clara. Though he desperately tried to suppress these unsettling feelings, tonight, his thoughts were firmly centered on Clara—a long-overdue confession loomed in his mind, patiently waiting for the perfect moment to be unveiled.
As the clock approached 9 p.m. Jakarta time, which coincided with 3 p.m. German time, Aiden sat in his modest apartment, his heart racing like a drum within his chest. In front of him, his laptop was open, with the NeurIPS Paris slides serving as a backdrop, yet the camera was deliberately trained to only capture the tension etched across his face. The ring box that had previously filled his mind with apprehension was now hidden away in a desk drawer; its presence, however, still weighed heavily upon his chest, a constant reminder of the gravity of what was about to unfold. With slightly trembling hands, he initiated the video call to Clara, the anticipation and anxiety palpable in the air surrounding him.
A moment later, Clara's face appeared on the screen, comfortably clad in oversized pajamas that enhanced her casual charm, her slightly disheveled hair contributing to her relaxed demeanor, with a neatly arranged room in the background and a half-packed suitcase ominously lying in the corner. "Den! You're already relaxing at this hour? Another project error?" Clara inquired, her tone laced with curiosity as she scanned his expression for clues.
Aiden could only offer a nervous smile while rubbing his damp hair, still a bit sticky from his recent workout. "It's not about a project," he replied, adopting a serious tone to convey the importance of the moment. "I... need to discuss something significant. Can you promise to listen until I'm finished?"
As Clara's brow furrowed, an earnest indication that she was beginning to grasp the seriousness of the situation, she straightened herself in her chair. "You look really serious. Okay, I'm all ears. What is it?"
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Aiden steeled his heart, fixing his gaze directly at the camera as if he were attempting to pierce through the screen into Clara's eyes. "Clar... I like you. I have for a long time. My feelings for you have transcended the boundaries of friendship; I like you as a woman with whom I want to build a life, protect, and someday... marry," he confessed, his voice resonating with sincerity and vulnerability.
At that moment, Clara's reaction seemed to freeze time, her eyes widening in astonishment as she processed his words. "Den... are you serious?"
"Very serious," Aiden responded with unwavering conviction. "This isn't just a whim; I've been contemplating this for a long time. Since high school, when you helped me navigate through the complexities of almost dropping out because of soccer. Through college, when you managed the challenges of handling trauma patients while balancing an overload of classes. Now, as you embark on your PhD journey in the Netherlands, I feel immense pride for you, but I am also terrified of losing you forever if I remain silent about my feelings."
Clara rubbed her face thoughtfully, her voice softening as she spoke, "Why are you telling me this now? I... am getting ready to leave in three weeks."
"That's precisely why!" Aiden found himself raising his voice slightly, the urgency of his emotions spilling forth. "I fear that if you leave, I'll be left here, and our story may just evolve into a distant memory of 'we used to be close'. I am tired of playing the role of the playmaker in your life and Bima's—setting the pace, making the passes, but never actually scoring a goal for myself in this emotional game. I genuinely want to be a starter in your life, Clara."
Clara let out a bitter chuckle, even though the unshed tears glimmered in her eyes. "Playmaker? You're practicing soccer again, aren't you? I could tell by the way you were holding the ball during our call yesterday."
Aiden stammered, slightly embarrassed under her gaze. "Uh... you noticed? Yes, I've been secretly practicing. Not as a striker anymore—now, I aspire to control the game from the middle, like Xavi. Like... I want to organize our life together."
Silence enveloped the conversation for a while as Clara stared intently at the screen, contemplating his words. "Den, you know I love you. You're my best friend, the most stable and reliable person I know. If you mention marriage... a part of me feels overwhelming happiness because you're truly the ideal husband: intelligent, responsible, and selfless."
"But?" Aiden, brimming with anxiety, braced himself for her next statement.
"But the timing is wrong," Clara sighed deeply, her voice carrying the weight of her thoughts. "I just received acceptance for a PhD program at Utrecht, which entails four years of extensive research on community trauma, collaboration with European NGOs, and contributions to journal publications. I simply cannot entertain thoughts of marriage right now—I don't even know what kind of version of Clara will exist in four years."
Aiden nodded slowly, though his heart felt constricted by the reality of Clara's words. "I understand. I'm not seeking an immediate answer. I merely want you to know that I will wait. I plan to visit Jakarta in the summer before you leave. We can meet in person, have a genuine conversation. If you say 'no', I will accept it without question. But if there's any uncertainty... I will be here."
A faint smile broke through Clara's tears as she whispered, "You're confusing me, Den. I'm at a major crossroads—between the Netherlands, my career aspirations, and now... you. Thank you for your honesty. I will seriously contemplate this."
"Promise you won't deceive me?" Aiden's voice softened, recalling the unsettling premonition he had about Bima and Clara's relationship.
Clara hesitated for just a moment before responding, "I promise. You too—don't lie to yourself about soccer. Play for real, don't keep it hidden away."
Aiden gave a small chuckle, a sense of relief washing over him. "Deal. I'll send you a video of my playmaker training tomorrow."
Once the call ended, Aiden found himself staring at the now darkened screen, the remnants of their conversation lingering in the air. He opened the simple yet intricate ring box—its silver design engraved with the phrase "parallel paths," an emblematic reminder of the deep connection they shared. "Wait in the drawer for now," he whispered to the box, making a silent promise, despite the strange disquiet still gnawing at him.
In a moment of introspection, he opened a chat with Bima, tapping out, "Bro, I just had an important talk with Clara. What are you up to?"
Before long, Aiden noticed that Bima had read the message but had not replied, intensifying Aiden's suspicions. "What is going on with you two?" he murmured softly to himself, a newfound resolve stirring within him to discover the truth in due time.
As the night deepened in Germany, Aiden returned to the field once more, determined to polish his skills—kicking the ball with all his might, simulating a pass to an imaginary Bima in the process. Despite the confession that had just been voiced, Clara's heart remained partially closed to him, her door not yet fully open. With the imminent reunion in Jakarta drawing near, Aiden was left grappling with the unresolved mystery of Bima and Clara, as the lingering question haunted his thoughts, awaiting an answer in the days yet to unfold.