The afternoon breeze blew coolly by the lakeside, stirring the water's surface into small ripples. From a distance, Thomas saw the figure he was looking for on the usual park bench.
Mr. Rudi. The middle-aged man sat relaxed, facing the lake, and at his feet, a brown local dog sat calmly, its leash loosely tethered.
"Hello, Sir," Thomas greeted. His voice no longer caught in his throat, though traces of the stiff tone that defined him still remained.
Mr. Rudi turned, his glasses sliding slightly to the tip of his nose. He observed Thomas from head to toe—noticing the calculus book the young man still held close. Rudi caught something more essential: a different glint in his eyes. It was no longer the vacant stare of a drowning man, but the sharp gaze of someone seeking answers.
"Oh, hello Thomas. Please, have a seat," Mr. Rudi patted the empty space beside him. "You look more... 'alive' today. Like an engine that has just been oiled."
Thomas sat down, neatly placing his bag aside. He took a deep breath. "Thanks to you, Sir, the weight on my shoulders feels much lighter. Your explanation yesterday about the root of the problem... it made sense. Understanding that 'hunger' for validation helped me stop whipping myself every second."
However, Thomas turned toward Mr. Rudi with a look that grew serious, almost as if he were auditing a machine.
"But Sir, there is a new problem. Earlier in class, I tried to help my friends with Calculus. I managed to restrain myself from looking down on them. But the whole time, my head felt so noisy. I kept monitoring myself like a foreman: 'Don't be arrogant, Thom. Don't look dismissive, Thom.'"
Thomas unconsciously squeezed the strap of his backpack. "I'm afraid this is just beginner's luck, Sir. I want to know the mechanism so that I don't fall back 'asleep' when I'm tired or emotional. I want to guarantee that I stay 'awake'."
Thomas stared at Mr. Rudi as if asking for a technical manual. "I want to know the details. How can I ensure I don't fall back 'asleep' when I'm exhausted or upset? I want to understand this inner system completely so I can guarantee I remain 'awake.' I don't want to go back to the person I used to be just because I wasn't vigilant."
Mr. Rudi listened to every one of Thomas's sentences intently, then took off his reading glasses. "A very meticulous analysis, Thomas. But, you know? Sometimes we are so busy thinking about how a machine works that we forget to enjoy the benefits of the machine itself."
"You did something incredible today, Thomas. You helped your friend, you restrained your ego, and you are sitting here with a calmer heart. Appreciate that as a tangible result, not as a variable that must be constantly calculated," Rudi continued softly. "Don't worry too much about whether you will fall 'asleep' again tomorrow. Worrying about the future will only consume your precious energy today."
Rudi then shifted his gaze toward the lake, giving a small nod with his chin. "Thomas, try to stop thinking for a moment. I want you to see what is in front of you right now."
Thomas followed Mr. Rudi's gaze, though at first, he found it difficult to stop the engine in his head from spinning.
"Look at the children playing ball over there," Rudi said quietly. "Hear their laughter. Listen to the birds on the branches of this banyan tree. They aren't thinking about how they will chirp tomorrow; they only chirp because now is the time to chirp."
Thomas fell silent. He began to force his eyes to truly see, not just stare.
"Look at this lake, Thomas. See how the ripples catch the golden light of the afternoon sun. You don't need to ask 'why' it's orange or how the mechanism works; you only need to feel it."
Thomas took a long breath. Slowly, the noise of theories in his head began to subside. He started to feel the cool evening breeze touching the skin of his arms. He felt the texture of the wooden park bench—rough yet stable beneath his palms.
"Your progress is very good right now, Thomas. I'm proud of you," Rudi said sincerely. "You've realized why you were the way you were. But, one thing I've gathered... you have lived inside your own head for too long."
Rudi smiled wisely. "Before, you were trapped in your head with guilt; now, you want to lock yourself away again with theories on how to be good. Both distance you from today. True awareness isn't about controlling the soul with formulas, Thomas. It's about being present. About knowing that you are sitting here right now, breathing with relief. You don't need to 'master' life; you only need to live it second by second."
They were silent for a long time.
Thomas followed the direction of Mr. Rudi's gaze—the children running in the distance, the laughter erupting for no reason across the lake, a bird perching on the wooden fence before flying back to the banyan branch.
For the first time, his chest didn't feel tight. He wasn't thinking about the past. Nor was he worrying about the future. He simply existed. Truly present on that bench.
But in that pure silence, something remained—no longer a noisy thought, but a feeling. A feeling that hadn't left, which now rose to the surface because his inner self was finally calm enough to feel it.
"When I really stopped thinking just now... it felt much lighter, Sir," he said softly, without looking away from the ripples.
He looked down at the ground beneath his feet. "But there is one part of me that still can't find peace."
Thomas lifted his face, looking at Rudi with an honest gaze. "It's not because I want to repeat those mistakes... but because I want to be honest with myself. I've started to be able to forgive the 'old Thomas' a little, thanks to you... but the fact that the wounds I gave others might be deep or even permanent—that's what keeps my forgiveness from being whole. How do I forgive myself... completely?"
Mr. Rudi smiled faintly. "That question isn't coming from your head, Thomas. It's coming from a heart that is calm enough to tell the truth."
Rudi adjusted his seating position. "Forgiving yourself isn't just something you think about; it's something that happens when you stop running. You feel the forgiveness isn't whole because you are still wearing a mask in front of the people you hurt. If you want to be truly free, you must see them again. This time without excuses, without 'validation hunger' theories to defend yourself. Acknowledge your mistakes sincerely and give them the honesty they deserve. That honesty is what will cut the chains of your past."
Thomas fell silent. He took a long breath, trying to fill his lungs with a courage that still felt foreign. "I understand. I have to see them again... this time with honesty," he said, though there was a faint tremor in his voice. Behind that determination, a flash of dread was pushed deep down; the image of Dimas's wheelchair still felt like a giant wall ready to crush his courage at any moment.
"Mr. Rudi..." Thomas said, breaking the silence softly. He let his breath flow easily before continuing. "Thank you for this afternoon. I feel... ready to face the heavy weeks ahead without losing myself again."
Mr. Rudi only nodded slowly, giving Thomas space to finish his thoughts.
"Perhaps after this, we won't see each other for quite some time," Thomas continued. "Two weeks from now is my first-year final exam. I need to give my full attention to campus so I can move on to the second year successfully. And after that... I've decided to follow my father's wish: to go back to my hometown for the semester break."
Thomas stood up, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder. His movements were no longer rushed, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders, indicating he was trying to convince himself more than he was convincing Mr. Rudi. He stood tall before Mr. Rudi, then bowed his head slightly as a mark of sincere respect.
"You helped me see the world in a way I never imagined before. I truly appreciate it."
Mr. Rudi looked up at his student with a look of pride—but also with a gaze that seemed to know the real test wasn't on a calculus paper. He did not move from his bench.
"Use your time in the village to be truly 'present,' Thomas. Don't just be a tourist in your own head," Mr. Rudi answered softly. He gave a small nod, a sign that he was letting Thomas go in peace.
Thomas smiled—a thin smile that looked slightly forced to cover his nervousness. He turned and began walking down the dim park path, his footsteps rhythmic. Under the park lights that were starting to flicker on, he looked like someone trying to walk toward the light, even though he knew the darkness of his past was still waiting to be tested.
Before Thomas's figure disappeared behind the shadows of the banyan trees, Mr. Rudi's voice followed him, carried by the calm night wind.
"Go, Thomas. See you later."
Thomas didn't look back, but he raised one hand in the air as an answer, continuing his walk away from the stillness of the lake toward the busyness—and a promise of honesty he didn't yet know if he could keep.