(I'm not arrogant. I'm just not used to queuing.)
On a quiet Thursday night, with the rain pouring like the first time they met, Jenny took Aryo's hand.
They fell in love in the rain, under the old banyan tree near the faculty parking lot. They fell in love over cheap bakmi at a roadside stall, where Aryo admitted he'd never eaten street food before. They fell in love when Jenny played Chopin on a broken piano at the cultural center, and Aryo cried—not because of the music, but because he saw her soul.
she whispered, hiding the bruise on her arm. (I'm just tired.)
It was about the courage to begin, knowing the ending might break you.
(You think you're better than everyone, huh?)
Aryo held her hand for three hours until it turned cold. He didn't scream. He didn't cry. He just sat there, repeating the words she had taught him:
