The hustle and bustle of students in the courtyard of the Faculty of Engineering at the University of Indonesia buzzed like a busy beehive. Under the stinging heat of the Depok sun, thousands of dreams were being fought for. But for Thomas, the crowd was merely static noise that failed to drown out the voices in his head.
The busyness of college and his side job as an ojek (motorcycle taxi) driver were indeed enough to exhaust him physically, but not enough to numb his memories.
In the corner of the classroom, Thomas sat alone. He stared blankly at the open Engineering Mechanics textbook, but his mind was wandering elsewhere.
Three pairs of eyes watched him from the middle row. Bernard, Clara, and Farhan. Three classmates known for their strong social spirit.
"Look at him," Clara whispered, her eyes conveying genuine concern. "He's getting thinner by the day. Those dark circles under his eyes... he looks like a walking corpse."
Bernard nodded in agreement, folding his arms across his chest. "He closes himself off too much. When you try to talk to him, he answers in short sentences. It's like he's built a thick wall to separate himself from us."
"Maybe he has financial problems? Or family issues?" guessed Farhan quietly. "Whatever it is, it's not right to let a classmate be like a stranger. It's pitiful."
Clara sighed, then steeled her resolve. "I can't bear to see it. Come on, let's go over to him."
The three of them stood up and walked toward the desk in the back corner. Thomas didn't even notice their arrival until their shadows blocked the light above his desk.
"Hi, Thomas," Clara greeted softly.
Thomas jolted in surprise. He looked up, finding three friendly faces staring at him. His defense reflexes activated immediately, his body tensing up. "Oh... hi, guys." His voice was hoarse, rarely used.
"Are you busy?" asked Clara, trying to sound as natural as possible. "We're heading to the Engineering Canteen. Want to join us for lunch?"
Thomas fell silent. His first instinct was to refuse. To avoid. To hide. But then he saw the sincerity in Clara's eyes. No judging stares, no mockery. Just a simple invitation.
Bernard chimed in with a contagious grin. "Yeah, come on, Thom. Once in a while. Don't just stay cornered in the class like a mushroom."
"The food at the canteen is great right now, Thom. The sayur asem (tamarind soup) is a winner," Farhan added, trying to entice him.
Thomas looked at them in turn. The exhaustion from constantly isolating himself suddenly felt so heavy. Maybe a little interaction could chase away the ghosts in his head for a moment.
"Hmm..." Thomas hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I guess so."
The faces of his three friends brightened instantly.
"There we go!" exclaimed Farhan while patting Thomas's shoulder gently. "Finally, the Hermit comes down from the mountain. Hehehe."
The four of them walked side-by-side toward the legendary, notoriously noisy Faculty of Engineering canteen. Along the way, Clara and Bernard tried to engage Thomas in light conversation—about the strict calculus professor, about the packed practicum schedule—trying to make Thomas feel included.
Upon arriving at the canteen, they found an empty table in a somewhat quiet corner. The aroma of soto and ayam penyet (smashed chicken) wafted through the air, triggering a hunger Thomas had often ignored.
"Okay, food is ready," Bernard said after their orders arrived. He looked at his friends. "Let's pray first. Han, lead us."
"Ready, Commander," Farhan replied jokingly, then bowed his head solemnly. "Before we eat, let us pray. May this food be a blessing and beneficial to our bodies. Prayer begins..."
"Amen," they said in unison.
Bite after bite was taken, accompanied by conversation that began to flow. Thomas, who was initially stiff, slowly began to dare to lift his face from his plate.
"By the way, Thom," Bernard asked between chews. "Why did you choose Civil Engineering? A childhood dream?"
Thomas swallowed his food slowly. A standard question, but safe. "Not really a dream. I chose it because I heard the job opportunities are broad and stable. Construction never stops." And I need money, he added silently.
"Oh, pragmatic reasons, huh. Same as Clara and me," Bernard said, laughing. He then pointed at Farhan with his fork. "But Farhan here is different. His motives aren't pure."
Farhan grinned guiltlessly. "Oi, don't show my hand."
"He said he entered here because engineering guys look cool to the girls from the Faculty of Literature," Clara leaked while giggling. "Even though, let alone getting a girl, the assignments pile up so high you forget to shower."
"Damn you, Clar," Farhan protested, which was met with laughter from Bernard and Clara. "Don't listen to her, Thom. That's slander."
Thomas felt the corners of his lips lift slightly. An awkward smile, stiff, but real. For a few precious minutes, he forgot that he was a sinner. He was just an ordinary student having lunch with his friends.
After the plates were empty, they decided to return to the lecture building because the next class was about to start.
They walked leisurely along the corridor shaded by the large UI trees. Thomas felt a little lighter. Maybe he could start a new life. Maybe he could—
"Thomas."
One word. One name. One voice.
Thomas's world stopped spinning.
His blood seemed to freeze, draining rapidly from his face. That wasn't Clara's voice. It was a voice from the past he feared.
Thomas turned stiffly. There stood Chelsea.
The girl no longer looked at him with disgust or anger like in the final year of middle school.
"Hi," Chelsea greeted softly.
Clara, Bernard, and Farhan also stopped and turned. "Uh, a friend of yours, Thom?" asked Farhan innocently.
Thomas swallowed saliva that felt like sand. "Yeah... an old friend." He turned to Clara. "You guys go ahead. Or you'll be late. I'll catch up."
"Okay then, Thom. Don't be too long," Bernard said, then signaled the others to give them some privacy.
His three new friends walked away, leaving Thomas to face his nightmare. Thomas and Chelsea stepped aside slightly under a shady tree so as not to block the path. Thomas's heart pounded, terrified that Chelsea would scream "Monster" in front of everyone.
"Wow... I didn't expect to meet you here, at the same campus," said Thomas, trying to sound normal though his voice trembled.
"Yeah, I was surprised to find out you study here too," Chelsea replied. "Yesterday I casually looked at the new student list, and the name Thomas was in Civil. At first, I doubted it, but it turned out to be you."
"What... major are you in, if I may ask?" asked Thomas, making small talk to delay the execution.
"Mechanical Engineering."
"Oh... that's a good major. Tough, but good," Thomas responded blandly.
Silence fell for a moment. A gentle breeze dropped a yellow leaf between them. The awkward atmosphere was so suffocating that Thomas felt like running away.
"Oh right, Thomas," Chelsea took a deep breath, daring herself to look at Thomas. "Actually, I was looking for you because I wanted to apologize too."
Thomas was stunned. "Apologize?"
"Yes. For my inappropriate words back in middle school," said Chelsea sincerely. "When I yelled at you with that high tone. It was very rude. I'm sorry."
Thomas stood frozen. All this time, he had felt he deserved all of it. A belief he had never questioned.
"You don't need to apologize, Chels," Thomas replied softly, looking down at the asphalt. "I was wrong back then. I... I was mean to all of you. It was natural for you to be angry."
Thomas gathered the courage to glance at Chelsea. "I never blamed you. I should be the one apologizing for treating you all badly. Forgive me, Chelsea."
Chelsea smiled faintly, a relieving smile. "I forgave you a long time ago, Thomas. I don't want to hold a grudge. We're adults now."
Thomas nodded slowly. "Thank you, Chelsea..."
However, Chelsea's expression turned slightly serious. "But there's one more thing that makes me feel incredibly guilty, Thom. Before... I accused and slandered you as the cause of Dimas's accident."
The name was spoken. Dimas. Thomas's heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand.
"At that time I was emotional, so I just blindly accused you of intentionally dropping Dimas," Chelsea continued, her voice full of regret.
Thomas could only remain silent. His tongue was numb. But your accusation was true, Chels. It wasn't slander.
"But you know what?" Chelsea's eyes sparkled slightly. "After graduating high school, I met Dimas at Taman Anggrek. We talked about many things, including that terrible incident in elementary school."
Thomas's breath hitched. What did Dimas say? Did Dimas tell her how Thomas pulled his body? How Thomas let him fall?
"Dimas told me that I was completely wrong to accuse you," Chelsea said.
Thomas blinked. "W-what?"
"He remembers the incident very clearly," Chelsea continued enthusiastically, as if clearing Thomas's name. "Dimas said, when he climbed that desk, you actually held onto the desk very tightly. He said you tried your hardest to hold him down, but the desk leg was already fragile and snapped before you could do anything."
Time seemed to stop for Thomas. The noise of the campus suddenly went silent.
Dimas lied.
Or maybe... was Dimas too innocent and truly thought Thomas was holding him?
No. Thomas clearly remembered the sensation when he let go of his body weight. He remembered the moment he took a step back. It was intentional.
But Dimas... the victim of his greatest crime... actually gave a false alibi to protect him? The person he hurt the most and crippled for life was the only person defending him from an accusation that was actually true?
"He said it was purely an accident, Thomas," Chelsea emphasized. "So, I feel very wicked for accusing you back then. Forgive me, Thom. Really."
Thomas couldn't move. His legs felt like jelly. His ears rang loudly.
Chelsea's apology, which should have been relieving, now felt like a slap with a hot iron right across his face.
Dimas's kindhearted lie felt far more painful, more torturous than any curse or beating. Dimas granted him forgiveness he didn't deserve. Dimas made him the hero in that tragic story, even though he was the villain.
"Chelsea... no..." Thomas tried to speak, his voice hoarse and cracking.
His inner self screamed, 'No! You're right, Chels! I am the culprit! Don't apologize! Spit on me! Scold me!'
But the words were stuck in his throat. The fear of validating that he was a bad person and the fear of being hated again held back his honesty.
"You... you don't need to apologize," was all that finally came out of Thomas's mouth. "I'm the one who should apologize... Besides, you were just emotional."
Chelsea smiled in relief, as if a weight of a thousand tons had been lifted from her shoulders. "Thank goodness. So, that means we're good now, right? No hard feelings?"
"Yes, Chelsea... thank you," Thomas answered. It felt hollow. He felt incredibly dirty.
"Oh yeah, one more thing," Chelsea added cheerfully. "Dimas asked about you too. He said you were the only elementary school friend who met him a few times. He also said that you've become a good person."
THUMP.
Thomas's chest felt incredibly tight. Tears pressed to come out, but he held them back desperately. Dimas missed him. Dimas, the boy now sitting in a wheelchair because of his doing, still considered him a friend.
How pure Dimas's heart was, and how rotten Thomas's heart was. The contrast was killing Thomas slowly from the inside.
"Wow... he... he still cares about me," Thomas's voice trembled violently. He forced a smile that looked painful. "Maybe... during the holidays, I'll visit him."
"Yes, do visit him. He'd surely be very happy."
Thomas glanced at his watch, not because he wanted to know the time, but because he could no longer stand there receiving that "praise."
"Alright, Chelsea. By the way, I think I'm already late for class. I... I'll go first."
"Oh right, go ahead Thomas. Nice to see you again!"
Without answering again, Thomas turned and half-ran away from Chelsea.
He wasn't running toward class. He was running away from the guilt that was now chasing him faster than his own shadow.
His mind was in chaos. Dimas protected me. Dimas defended me. Those sentences battered his brain over and over.
Thomas arrived in front of the classroom door, but he didn't go in. He just stood frozen in the corridor, staring at the wooden door with blurred vision. He couldn't sit calmly inside listening to a lecturer while his soul was being judged by his victim's kindness.
He needed to run.
His feet stepped again, away from the lecture building, toward the only place where he felt he could breathe.
Lake Kenanga.
Thomas arrived there breathing heavily. He went straight to the large banyan tree, his favorite spot.
He threw his body onto the ground, leaning against the rough tree trunk. Thomas stared at his reflection in the calm lake water. In the eyes of the world, he was now clean. In Chelsea's eyes, he was innocent. In Dimas's eyes, he was a good friend.
But in his own eyes, he was a monster hiding behind a disgusting mask of luck. And that was far more painful than any punishment.