That particular morning in Jakarta presented itself with the typical façade of a city awakening to another day, its horizon painted in a soft and pale blue sky that was characteristic of the dry season, while the languid rhythm of traffic began to crescendo with the unmistakable cacophony of car horns honking in a disjointed orchestra. Yet, for three individuals entangled in a web of unspoken emotions and concealed truths, this morning held no resemblance to the mundane predictability of ordinary days. Nestled within a shady oasis of a city park located in the vibrant Sudirman area, a man named Bima was observed lounging on a long, worn bench, clad in a gray hoodie that cradled his head and a black hat pulled low over his brow, intentionally shielding his face from onlookers. Clutched in his hand was a half-empty paper cup of coffee, its rich aroma mingling with the fresh morning air, while his injured knees fidgeted restlessly, bouncing in a barely perceptible rhythm that betrayed the swirling turbulence of his thoughts.
Inside Bima's mind, a singular phrase was trapped in an incessant loop, echoing like a relentless metronome and causing his heart to race with discomfort: "I must be honest with Aiden, or should we continue to proceed cautiously?" It was meant to be a morning designated for light training, a preparatory session for his impending departure to Germany just days away; however, the unexpected message from Aiden he received late the night prior had plunged him into a state of disquiet, making it nearly impossible to achieve any semblance of focus.
Aiden's words lingered in his mind: "Tomorrow morning at the city park. I want to address something important too. Please come, bro." Taking a long, deep breath to center himself, Bima shifted his gaze across the park's expanse, observing a tableau of life all around him: children cycling with exuberance, young couples strolling in tandem while bursting with laughter, and elderly individuals engaging in light exercise with commendable enthusiasm. The lives unfolding around him appeared uncomplicated and genuine, a stark contrast to the intricate layers of chaos that currently enveloped his own world, leaving him beleaguered and reflective.
Before long, Aiden made his appearance at the park entrance, sporting a simple yet casual outfit of a plain T-shirt and jeans, his backpack absent and only his cellphone in hand. He waved enthusiastically, a broad smile stretching across his face, instantly radiating warmth. Even from afar, Bima could sense that the expression Aiden wore was not one of anger or deep mistrust; rather, it was that of someone who had just released the shackles of their own fears.
"Bro!" Aiden exclaimed with palpable enthusiasm as he settled beside Bima, patting his shoulder with a familiar touch. "I really miss Jakarta! Sure, it's blistering hot and congested, but there's something about it that I long for."
Bima couldn't help but chuckle at Aiden's sentiment, responding with a playful grin, "You're actually pining for Padang rice and sweet iced tea more than Jakarta itself." Their laughter mingled momentarily in the crisp air, weaving a lightness that soon descended into an awkward silence, as Aiden's gaze drifted towards the small lake nestled within the park, so picturesque, yet he took a deep breath as he braced himself to exchange more serious thoughts.
"I need to be straightforward, Bim. I've had my suspicions about you and Clara," Aiden said, cutting straight to the core of the matter without any preamble. Bima's throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, while maintaining an outwardly relaxed facade. "Suspicious of what?" was all he could muster.
"Suspicious that you two might be dating in secret," Aiden replied, his tone steady and determined. "You've seen it yourself; the stories you've shared, the frequency of your meetings, the way you look at her during video calls. I may not be designed like an AI system, but my observational skills aren't functioning on empty."
Bima held his breath at this revelation, the weight of the conversation pressing down upon him, but before he could formulate his thoughts, Aiden continued speaking, his voice tinged with an unexpected gentle softness. "But I realized I was mistaken," he confessed. "I put Clara to the test—prodding her with questions repeatedly. Her responses remained unwavering: she's focused on the Netherlands, and your relationship, in her eyes, is simply that of old friends reuniting. When I asked her directly what was between you and Bima, she replied, 'We have our own dreams, our own struggles.' The earnestness in her words left me with no doubt."
As this news pierced through him, Bima felt a strange mix of relief and guilt in his chest. Clara might not have been entirely honest, but at least Aiden had reached a conclusion that brought him some reassurance: that their relationship was simply platonic. Bima forced a smile and remarked, "Yeah, Clara and I… we've always had a close friendship. But our focuses have shifted now, Den. I'm off to Germany, and she's heading towards the Netherlands. Right now, it's just us spending time together."
Aiden nodded, a visible weight seemingly lifted from his shoulders. "I'm relieved, bro. If you two had truly been an item without telling me, I would've felt abandoned—like I was being left behind by both of you simultaneously." Those words struck Bima with a wrenching guilt; he gazed at Aiden, recognizing the sincerity and vulnerability that had characterized their bond since their teenage years, an authenticity that now felt awash with unintentional accusation.
"I will never leave you, Den," Bima eventually uttered, his voice low and resolute. "No matter what unfolds."
Aiden smiled, albeit gently, and replied, "I take your word for it." Drawing in a breath, he turned to Bima, his expression shifting to one that was more serious, almost fragile. "Now it's my turn to be forthright," he said. "I told Clara I have feelings for her. During a video call while I was still in Germany, I confessed that I could see myself marrying her someday."
The words hung in the air, and Bima felt as though the blood in his veins had come to a complete stop, his expression betraying nothing beyond the surface—yet his eyes flickered with uncertainty. "And what was her response?"
"She didn't outright reject me," Aiden answered, an honesty in his tone that felt heavy. "But she also refrained from saying 'yes' right away. She articulated that her life was currently chaotic—finishing her PhD, pursuing her global aspirations, and grappling with her own fears. She said she loves me but isn't ready to force anything at the moment. All she asked for was more time, to which I acquiesced."
Bima's gaze was fixed ahead, the distant noise of vehicles punctuating the silence between them as he contemplated Aiden's revelations. "So, you want to carry on?"
Aiden nodded resolutely, "I refuse to become a possessive long-distance boyfriend. I don't wish to impose a status on our relationship just yet. However, I also can't allow myself to pretend that I lack feelings. So I've settled on a middle ground: I'll be there for her, remain honest, and continue to express my care. If someday she says 'no,' I'll accept that, but until she articulates those words, I'll hold onto the possibility."
Bima rubbed the back of his neck, attempting to make light of a situation that felt extraordinarily tense. "Ah, I see—you're playing the long game, huh?"
"I'm playing the long game authentically," Aiden clarified. "I don't want to be the person who just fades away when she's in the Netherlands. I want her to know that if she ever needs a home to which her heart can return… I'll be here."
Those words struck Bima with a poignant sense of irony; he yearned to vocalize, "I'm living in that home presently," yet found himself at a loss for words, his tongue heavy with unexpressed sentiments. Beneath the veneer of idealistic friendship they had fought to preserve resided a selfish fear: if he spoke his truth now, he risked losing both of them irrevocably.
"Bro…" Aiden glanced at Bima again, his gaze seeking affirmative reassurance. "You're okay with this, right? I know you and Clara had 'something' in the past, but we're beyond that now, aren't we? You have your sights set on Germany, soccer, and your own future. I just… I don't want to move forward without being cautious of stepping on your toes unintentionally."
That anxiety-laden question served as an ultimate test for Bima's already conflicted heart. He recognized that his response could shape the trajectories of three lives, plunging into uncharted territories. With a soft sigh, he faced Aiden, donning a forced smile that felt bittersweet.
"I wouldn't be entirely truthful if I claimed that Clara isn't special to me," Bima responded cautiously. "However, my chapter with her has concluded, Den. Now, my focus is singular—I'm immersed in soccer. If you believe you can make her happy, then I encourage you to pursue that."
Aiden locked eyes with Bima, searching for any hints of deceit behind his composed demeanor. Bima maintained his unwavering gaze, his training to mask emotions in competitive settings now transversing into an entirely different battlefield: suppressing the truth before his closest friend.
"Hm," Aiden murmured, finally nodding slowly. "Then… I will go ahead." He smiled, this time genuinely. "Thank you, Bro. Your backing means a lot to me."
"Let's not call it 'backing,' it sounds too much like a proposal," Bima quipped, trying to diffuse the palpable tension with lightheartedness.
"Well, who knows? Maybe in a few years time," Aiden returned the jest with a half-smile, adding a layer of humor. "Provided the world doesn't come to an end beforehand."
As laughter echoed between them, Bima's heart felt as though it were being constricted slowly, a painful reminder of the unspoken turmoil lingering beneath the surface.
***
In the days that followed, a new rhythm began to establish itself in the lives of the three individuals. Aiden found himself reaching out to Clara with increasing frequency—some texts were brief, others extended into voice messages or cheerful video snippets, capturing candid moments filled with laughter and camaraderie.
Each morning brought another message from Aiden, lightheartedly inquiring: "Clara, have you managed to eat breakfast yet? Don't exist on coffee alone."
In her response, Clara playfully contested, "Where are you watching me from? I just brewed some coffee, thank you very much."
Aiden replied, "Even psychologists require sweetness. It's not solely about grappling with other people's bitterness."
As the noon sun climbed higher in the sky, Aiden sent a voice note detailing his recent meetings with the WHO team, all the while peppering in humor: "If the system crashes, I'll merely note that it 'requires Clara's psychological insights.'"
Their evenings frequently consisted of phone calls, with Clara nestled in her room, her suitcase steadily accumulating belongings while Aiden found comfort either in a hotel room or at his parents' home, their conversations weaving between light-hearted banter and trivial subjects, encompassing the food they anticipated missing in foreign lands, the films they'd recently indulged in, and playful speculations about the "next generation of children" growing up amidst an increasingly algorithm-driven world.
To the untrained eye, their exchanges appeared completely normal, effortlessly cultivating a bond of support as they prepared to embark on a new chapter of their respective lives. Yet beneath this seemingly uncomplicated surface, resided a labyrinth of emotional complexities manifesting into a puzzling dynamic:
- Clara welcomed Aiden's affections with open arms, but upon the conclusion of each call, she often found herself lingering in her room, grasping at thoughts of uncertainty that plagued her mind: "Am I truly not hurting anyone?"
- Conversely, Bima stood at the periphery, observing this evolving pattern with an uneasy detachment; he chose not to immerse himself in their conversations, yet he possessed an acute awareness of its existence. There were moments when Clara would confide in him slightly, other instances when he could decipher the shifts in her demeanor.
One evening, the trio convened at their usual cafe to share stories, Bima and Clara sitting across from one another amid a scattered mess of paperwork outlining their impending transitions to Germany and the Netherlands.
"Aiden's intensity is quite striking, huh?" Bima remarked, attempting to sound nonchalant even as a tempest brewed within his chest.
Clara toyed absentmindedly with her drinking straw, her gaze fixated on the enticing beverage before her. "Yes. He is genuinely attentive. There are instances when I ponder, 'Why didn't he express this kind of interest earlier?'"
Bima fell silent for a moment, contemplating the weight of her words. "Are you happy?"
Clara took several seconds to parse through her emotions before replying with stark honesty, "I… feel seen. Appreciated. But there are moments when he speaks too sweetly, and I find my mind wandering back to you."
"Do you still think of me?" Bima's voice fell into a hushed whisper, as the mere question held a staggering heaviness.
"I remember that I'm misleading him. And I abhor being someone who embodies two conflicting narratives," Clara confessed candidly.
Bima let his eyes drift towards the table, his intellect weaving through the thoughts he yearned to express. "Me too," he finally said in a soft murmur. "Yet if we unveil our truth now, while you're on the brink of departure and I'm set to leave for Germany, we would effectively be entrapping Aiden in a convoluted dilemma. Our consciences would be clear, yet he would be the one shouldering the burden."
Clara rubbed her face in irritation, the complexities of their situation weighing heavily upon her. "I despise that everything you say resonates with logical sense."
An uncomfortable silence fell like a curtain between them before Bima ventured, speaking softly, "Have you ever considered, Clar… that perhaps our timing has been misaligned from the very beginning? If we had chosen to be forthright with Aiden back in high school, maybe this convoluted mess could have been avoided."
A brief, humorless laugh escaped Clara's lips, devoid of any joy. "Are you suggesting that our entire relationship dating back to our secret affairs was flawed from the start?"
"More or less," Bima replied, a bitter edge creeping into his tone as his gaze became inscrutable. "Back then, I thought, 'If we tell Aiden, he'll feel awkward, and then our relationship will crumble.' So I opted for the middle ground: we concealed our relationship. Now? It appears we're caught in a similar cycle once more."
Clara met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "The crucial difference lies in the fact that this time, there's another person involved—Aiden. In high school, he lacked a voice. Now… now he's expressing himself, and we're feigning ignorance."
Bima regarded her for a lingering moment before finally speaking softly, "You want me to step aside?"
Clara's reaction was immediate. "What do you mean by that?"
"Perhaps… the most 'just' resolution would be for you to head to the Netherlands without either myself or Aiden along for the journey. I'll proceed to Germany on my own, and Aiden will remain here. That way, you won't have two people waiting for you in different locations. You could be free. We would also cease harboring feelings for one another."
Clara's vehement shake of the head sent tears cascading down her cheeks. "I don't want that. I refuse to lose you. I loathe the idea of leaving Aiden feeling broken and abandoned."
"So what now?" Bima blurted, his voice rising slightly with urgency. "Do you plan to have both? That's unattainable, Clar."
Clara's hands covered her face in distress, as the weight of her turmoil engulfed her. "I am aware. That's precisely why I claimed my life is chaotic. I love you, yet I can't pretend that I don't care for Aiden. I realize he will suffer deeply if he ever discovers the truth, but right now, I can't bear to inflict pain on him prematurely."
An acute silence blanketed the air, broken only by the ambient sounds of spoons clinking and cups clattering from another table nearby.
Simultaneously, across the city at Aiden's residence, he sat fixated on his phone screen, reflecting on his last chat with Clara:
Aiden: "Don't forget to take care of yourself, Clar. Don't push yourself too hard."
Clara: "Thanks, Den. You genuinely know precisely what to say."
A hint of amusement played on Aiden's lips, and he opened a cherished photo of the three of them from high school days gone by. With determination burning in his soul, he murmured softly, "This time I'll rectify everything."
In his mind's eye, he began noting down plans:
- "Next steps: Be by Clara's side until the day she departs.
- Maintain my distance from demanding a relationship, yet remain steadfast in how I feel.
- Keep Bima informed, ensuring he doesn't feel sidelined.
- If the time comes for a choice to be made, I will opt for honesty over comfort."
Ironically, at the same time in another part of the city, Clara put pen to paper in her own journal, drafting a vastly different agenda:
- "Next steps: Ensure Aiden remains oblivious to any suspicions until I leave.
- Avoid intensifying pain before the distance is firmly established.
- Keep Bima at ease in the lead-up to his journey to Germany.
- If the day ever arises when I must be truthful, I will seek out the opportune moment that inflicts the least hurt."
Meanwhile, in his room that night, Bima jotted down notes on his phone:
- "Mental resolve: Stay resilient in Bochum.
- Do not become deeply intertwined in the dynamic between Aiden and Clara, yet refuse to withdraw either.
- If the undercurrent of this secret surfaces, I'll be prepared to bear the consequences."
Thus, within their individual spheres, three people generated three disparate plans, each with their own interpretation of "goodness." The concealed truths of Bima and Clara's relationship remained artfully nestled beneath layers of concealment, and as time moved forward, the boundaries delineating love, friendship, and betrayal began to narrow, all poised for a singular misstep to unravel their lives in an instant.