"The company appreciates all your contributions, Alya. But given the current market conditions..."
I didn't need to hear the rest of the carefully polished, sweet-sounding speech from Mr. Danu, the HR Manager. His message was perfectly clear: I was fired.
Not because my performance was poor. As the Marketing Manager, I'd managed to double our product's engagement in just six months. But the startup I'd pinned my future on had officially gone under. The investors pulled their funding, and all twenty people on this floor lost their livelihoods today.
I left my office with a brown bag containing documents and personal belongings from my cubicle.
"Alya, I'm so sorry... We were shocked too," Sinta, my coworker, whispered sympathetically.
"It's okay, Sin. At least I can take a vacation without having to submit a time-off request," I replied with a thin smile.
As soon as I left the office, I hurried to the women's restroom and entered the farthest stall. I didn't cry. I simply held my breath, trying to accept the reality that my life had just been shoved off course without warning.
My phone vibrated. The name on the screen: Mom.
“Hi, Mom. Alya's still at the office. What's wrong?”
“Sorry to bother you, honey. I just got back from the doctor,” Mom said hesitantly. “The medication from last time needs to be changed... and it's pretty expensive. Then Rendy's university called earlier. The deadline to pay his tuition payment is this Friday..."
It felt like my heart stopped beating.
Ever since Dad died three years ago, circumstances had trained me to become someone who wasn't allowed to be fragile. Mom lived in our hometown on a meager pension, and my younger brother, Rendy, had just started his third semester at a public university. The entire burden rested on my shoulders.
“How much is everything, Mom?” I asked softly.
Mom named a figure: twelve million rupiah. The number made my chest tighten instantly when added to my motorcycle installment, household bills, and the fact that I'd officially become unemployed ten minutes ago.
“Alya?” Mom sounded worried. “If things are difficult right now, it's okay. I'll tell the doctor later...”
“It's okay, Mom,” I cut in quickly before she could feel guilty. “Alya will transfer it later.”
“Don't push yourself too hard, okay?”
I gave a small laugh, forcing my voice to sound light. “I'm your daughter, Mom. Stubbornness runs in the family.”
“That's enough for now, Mom.” After the call ended, I straightened my blazer and stared at myself in the restroom mirror.
“I still look pretty,” I murmured to my reflection, “and I'm nearly broke.”
Good. I still had my sarcasm. That meant I wasn't completely broken yet.
After that, I took the elevator down to the lobby. It wasn't long before the doors opened. I stepped out with my head lowered, opened my mobile banking app, and looked at the remaining balance—less than three million rupiah.
Then someone stood directly in front of me.
Polished black leather shoes. A dark leather watch I knew all too well.
My gaze slowly traveled upward. The world, already chaotic enough that morning, had decided to add one more problem to my list.
Dimas Ardhana stood in front of me. As neat as ever, with the calm expression that had once managed to infuriate me beyond belief.
Four years without a word, without an explanation, without the courage to even say goodbye properly. Of all the days in the world, he chose to show up on the day I got fired.
Dimas's gaze fell to the brown bag in my hand, then shifted to my eyes.
“Alya,” he said quietly.
I squared my shoulders. If today really intended to kill me, at least I would die with my eyeliner still intact.
“You've got the wrong building,” I said flatly. “The place for haunting your ex is next door.”
Dimas didn't move. “I need to talk to you.” I let out a short laugh. “Wow. After four years, you finally want to talk?”
“Alya...”
“If you came to apologize, you've got the wrong address.”
Dimas didn't smile. “I came because I have a job for you. You need to hear me out.”
The lobby remained crowded. People continued to pass around us. The coffee machine in the café on the corner hissed. Someone laughed too loudly. My phone was still open to the mobile banking screen, the balance there still painfully pathetic.
And standing in front of me, the man who had broken my heart four years ago was offering me a way out.