Yogyakarta’s morning warmth welcomed Kiara and Bumi the moment their feet touched the platform at Tugu Station. The cool air left over from last night’s rain mingled with the distinctive aroma of kopi jos and the rhythmic footsteps of passengers hurrying out. Amid the bustle, Kiara paused for a moment and drew a deep breath. For the first time in four years, her chest no longer felt crushed beneath the weight of deadlines.
“How is it? The aroma’s different from Jakarta, right?” Bumi asked as he walked beside her, wiping down the camera hanging from his neck again.
“Much friendlier,” Kiara replied with a faint smile.
As they had agreed on the train, their first destination wasn’t their lodging but a legendary chicken-noodle shop hidden in a small alley not far from Malioboro. The streets were still fairly quiet as the sun climbed higher. Throughout their walk along the old sidewalks, Bumi didn’t stop capturing moments—from a becak driver asleep atop his vehicle to sunlight reflected in the leaves of banyan trees. But Kiara noticed one thing: Bumi’s camera lens was turning toward her more and more often.
The chicken-noodle shop they were looking for had apparently just opened its bamboo curtain. They were the first customers of the morning, sitting on a long wooden bench facing the alley.
“Two bowls of chicken noodles and two hot teas,” Bumi ordered from the shop owner, then turned his gaze back to Kiara. “So, my payment promise has been fulfilled. Now it’s your turn to choose the direction.”
Kiara pulled her notebook from her bag—a small brown agenda book she hadn’t opened in a long time. In the middle of its pages was a handwritten note bearing the name of a place: Kalandara Art Space, an independent art studio in Prawirotaman she had once desperately wanted to visit.
“Kalandara,” Kiara murmured, pointing to the writing. “I used to dream of exhibiting my illustrations there. But after I joined the agency, that dream just became another pile of dust.”
Bumi took the agenda book and studied Kiara’s handwriting carefully. “No dream ever truly turns to dust, Kiara. They’re only asleep, waiting for their owner to find the courage to return.”
When the steaming chicken noodles were served, their conversation began flowing again as they enjoyed their morning meal. But in the middle of their laughter and teasing, Kiara’s phone, tucked inside her jacket pocket, suddenly began vibrating violently. The name on the screen slowly erased her smile: Mbak Reni—Agency Supervisor.
Kiara’s heart began pounding again. With slightly trembling fingers, she swiped the green button and pressed the phone to her ear.
“Kiara! Where are you?!” The voice on the other end sounded panicked and demanding. “The major client from Singapore rejected every draft from the other teams! They only want your concept. The director wants you to cancel your resignation. We’ll raise your salary by thirty percent, and you’ll get a promotion next month. Come back to Jakarta today!”
The words echoed in Kiara’s head. A promotion, a raise, and the recognition she had dreamed of all this time in the capital were now being offered right before her eyes. Everything that made people hold on in Jakarta had suddenly fallen into her hands.
Bumi noticed the change in Kiara’s expression. He stopped mid-bite and looked at her silently, making no attempt to interrupt.
Kiara gripped her phone tightly, glanced at the brown agenda book on the table, then looked at Bumi, whose supportive gaze told her he would stand by whatever decision she made. The choice now stood plainly before her: return to the old, safe route that would slowly destroy her, or keep walking down a new and entirely uncertain path with the man sitting across from her.
Kiara drew a long breath, closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke into the phone again in a calm, steady voice.
“I’m sorry, Mbak Reni. I’ve made up my mind. I’m not coming back.”
Before her agency supervisor could respond, Kiara ended the call and powered her phone off completely. She let out a relieved breath, feeling as though a great burden had just been lifted from her life for good.
Bumi smiled broadly, the light in his eyes growing brighter. He raised his glass of hot tea into the air.
“To a new route without regrets,” Bumi said softly.
Kiara tapped her tea glass against Bumi’s, letting the chiming clink of glass rise amid the bustle of Yogyakarta’s morning alley.
“To a new route,” Kiara repeated.