"Bravo, Elena! Splendid work!"
The sound of rhythmic clapping filled the four-by-four-metre office. Bright lights beamed down on Elena, a talented young architect who had just secured a massive tender she had fought tooth and nail for.
"Congratulations, Elena. You truly are remarkable. You've earned this," praised the Head Manager, offering a warm handshake.
Elena returned the gesture with a smile that refused to fade. "Thank you, Sir. I intend to make the absolute most of this opportunity."
Was she happy? Of course. Yet, deep down, Elena knew this wasn't the finish line—it was merely the start of a grueling ascent. Once the flurry of congratulations from her colleagues subsided, they decided to celebrate the small victory at Elena's favourite spot: Fortress Café.
True to its name, the café was Elena's sanctuary. From a large corner window, she would sip her favourite latte while gazing at Big Ben standing tall in the distance. The clock tower felt like the very heartbeat of London, ticking away relentlessly, indifferent to the broken hearts beneath its shadow.
"Do you remember, El? When you first set foot in this city? You just stood there, staring at Big Ben like a lost soul," Anne remarked, breaking Elena's reverie.
Elena let out a soft laugh. "Yes, I suppose I was quite lost back then."
"You were more than lost, Lena!" Anne added, her words met with a chorus of laughter around the table.
Elena responded with a playful nudge. She could only imagine how ridiculous she must have looked—a girl from Jakarta, bewildered in the middle of Britain's grandeur.
"Does anyone know who we'll be collaborating with on this project?" Elena asked, picking at her food.
"Not certain yet," Ben, another architect, replied. "But Mr. Austin mentioned the client is... difficult. A bit of a hard nut to crack, El. He's the type who doesn't take 'no' for an answer, though they say he has his moments of grace. Who knows?"
Elena nodded thoughtfully. A difficult man, eh? she mused. She was used to demanding clients, but she had no idea that this particular "difficulty" would soon bring down every wall she had spent seven years building.
Across the city of London...
In a windowless office dominated by stark white and gold accents, the atmosphere was suffocating. Arthur Montgomery sat in his leather chair, staring blankly at a portfolio spread across his desk.
His ice-blue eyes swept over every line of text. His breathing grew heavy. His chest tightened as if the room had suddenly run out of oxygen. His brow furrowed deeply as he processed the name listed as the Lead Architect: Elena.
The name triggered an explosion in his mind. A wound he thought had long since scarred over was suddenly ripped wide open. It stung. Arthur leaned back, closing his eyes, and instantly, his world was sucked back into a time far away... to a damp, humid morning in Jakarta.
Jakarta, Seven Years Ago.
06:48 AM.
A girl in a neat school uniform stood anxiously at the bus stop. Elena sighed, checking her watch for the umpteenth time. "The bus is taking forever. I should have just had breakfast with Papa, even if he takes an age," she muttered to herself.
Before long, the bus arrived. Elena hopped on and found Ririn, her best friend, who had saved a seat in the back row.
"You want the very back, don't you, El?" Ririn teased.
"What do you think?" Elena replied coolly. "The new homeroom teacher is a terror. I'm not keen on staring at his face from the front row."
Ririn giggled. Neither of them were overly ambitious, but they weren't lazy either. They were simply backbenchers who preferred observing the world from a distance. Later that day in the crowded canteen, Ririn brought up a topic that always made Elena roll her eyes.
"Are you really not interested in finding a foreign boyfriend, El? There are plenty of expats at our school," Ririn said persuasively.
"No, Rin. I prefer the local lads—they're more... exotic," Elena answered curtly.
"Oh, come on! I've got a whole list of names," Ririn added, wagging her eyebrows.
"Keep them for yourself. I'm not interested."
Ririn laughed. She knew Elena was fiercely wary of anything 'foreign'. To Elena, foreigners were strangers, and strangers were unpredictable. She wasn't one to trust things she couldn't fully translate.
Back to the Present (London)
Arthur opened his eyes. His fists clenched tightly on the desk.
"So, it really is you," he whispered to the silence of the room.
The regret returned, crashing against his towering ego. This new architect was his past. The girl he never truly held, the feelings he never fully voiced. Arthur felt as though fate was trapping him in a cruel, agonizing game.
She was so close. And this time, Arthur didn't know whether he should run again—or finally surrender to the pain.