Kaivan was still asleep, resting peacefully on the sofa. Thivi approached with careful steps, lowering her finger until it brushed gently against his lips, like dew touching the tip of a leaf. "Kaivan, it's morning… wake up," she whispered, her voice almost a song.
Kaivan's eyes flickered open, surprise glimmering faintly. Their faces were so close, only a breath apart. For a moment, their gazes locked in silence, and even time seemed to pause.
"Uh… sorry," Thivi stammered, pulling back quickly, her cheeks warming as she tried to hide the racing of her heart with an awkward smile.
Kaivan rubbed his face, exhaling softly. "It's fine. Thanks for waking me," he murmured, rising and running his fingers through his hair.
In the dining room, the morning scent of food spread warmly. Felicia and Teteh Kira busied themselves with breakfast, while Kaivan's mother sat at the end of the table, watching them with calm, tender eyes. When Thivi joined, her lively smile seemed to brighten the whole room, weaving hope into the quiet start of the day.
The morning greeted them with stillness, heavy yet serene. Felicia poured tea, the rising steam drawing pale shapes into the air. "We should head out early. There's still a lot to do at the workshop," she said softly, her words carrying the weight of a prayer for the long day ahead.
Kaivan entered, fingers tapping swiftly across his phone. His expression was sharp, as if he were planning for war. "Frans, come to my house. Drive Felicia and Thivi to the workshop first," he ordered through the call.
His mother looked at him, half amused, half concerned. "Still in high school, yet busier than a minister," she teased, though her eyes lingered with worry.
Felicia gave a small smile. "We're working on a project, Mom. There are six of us on the team now."
"Yeah, and it's super fun!" Thivi chimed in, her eyes sparkling.
That warmth seemed enough to reassure Kaivan's mother. She didn't fully understand, but she chose to trust.
Not long after, Frans arrived. "Morning! Let's go, team of dreamers!" he called out cheerfully from the driver's seat.
Felicia and Thivi stepped outside, ready to leave. But before they could enter the car, Kaivan appeared. His stride was steady, yet the weight of authority pressed around him.
"Felicia, let's go now."
"Yes, Kaivan!" Felicia replied brightly, but her steps faltered when he added,
"I'll follow on my bike. You all go ahead first."
Thivi tilted her head, suspicious. "Where are you going, Kaivan?"
He only smiled faintly. "Something I need to take care of. Don't worry."
No further explanation. Just a smile that held secrets. The engine roared, tearing through the quiet morning. He slipped on his helmet, lifted his gaze briefly to the sky, and drew a deep breath. The first twist of the throttle marked not only his departure, but also the beginning of a choice he could never turn back from.
Behind him, Thivi and Felicia stood watching. Though curiosity burned in their hearts, both girls chose to trust Kaivan's decision. Thivi forced a small smile, raising her hand in a faint wave. "Don't take too long, okay?" she said lightly, though her eyes betrayed a trace of unease.
Kaivan turned back, offering a thin but genuine smile. "I won't. I promise."
Felicia, arms folded, looked at him for a moment before turning toward the waiting car. She gave a short nod, silent yet filled with concern. Frans, already behind the wheel, waved casually at Kaivan. "We'll head off first, bro. Don't forget to swing by the workshop later."
Kaivan merely nodded, his gaze shifting back to the road ahead. The car slowly pulled away, carrying Felicia and Thivi toward the workshop where they usually spent their days. Meanwhile, Kaivan eased the throttle on his motorbike, the morning wind tugging at the strands of hair escaping from beneath his helmet. His destination was clear: a luxurious home in the northern district, where an old woman resided.
Amidst the city's pulse…
The city thrived even in the early hours. Towering buildings scraped the sky, streets buzzed with the steady flow of traffic, and people hurried about their lives. Yet beneath the surface, something strange lingered, an undercurrent out of place. Inside an upscale café downtown, two sharply dressed men sat across from each other at a polished marble table. The dim light danced across their cups of dark coffee.
"Hey, have you heard the rumors?" asked one of them, a man in a black suit with a sharp face and cautious demeanor. His voice was low, weighted, as if carrying a heavy secret. He set his spoon aside and fixed his companion with a serious gaze.
The other, a man with a thin mustache and wary eyes, raised a brow. "What do you mean?" he asked curtly, though the intrigue in his tone was undeniable.