*CHAPTER 1: WORLD WAR III STARTS IN THE ELEVATOR*
My 6 a.m. alarm was ridiculously loud. "NOOO!!!" I screamed, smacking my pillow onto my phone.
First day of school. First day of senior year. And me, Hazel Adinata, was fifteen minutes late.
At the speed of light, I brushed my teeth, combed my hair, sprayed on perfume, and ran. My uniform jacket was only halfway on, my tie was wrinkled, and my hair was tied up in a messy knot.
"HAZEL, HURRY!!" Mom shouted from the kitchen. "You're late! Uncle Bram's already waiting in the lobby!"
Uncle Bram was our family's regular driver. He was also my archenemy's dad's best friend.
Damn. So damn late.
I dragged my bag along, grabbed a piece of bread, and ran out of Apartment 10A. I immediately hit the elevator button. Thump, thump, thump.
Ding. The elevator doors opened.
And, of course... the person I hated most in the entire world was inside.
Damian Reyes. Apartment 15B. My enemy for seventeen years.
He was leaning against the corner of the elevator, wearing the same school uniform, but looking ten times neater. His hair was slicked back, his shirt was tucked in, and his shoes were polished. He smelled like expensive perfume. It made me nauseous.
He looked me up and down. Then he gave me a mocking smile.
"Wow. A dumpster diver escaped the dump?" he said quietly.
My blood immediately started boiling. "Shut up. Why don't you worry about your dried-out cleaning-cloth face?"
The elevator doors closed. Silence filled the space. The only sound was both of us breathing while trying to hold back our anger.
We'd been like this since kindergarten. Fighting. Teasing. Pulling pranks on each other. The reason? No idea. Maybe because we were born on the same date. February 14. At the same hospital. In the same apartment building.
Dad and Uncle Bram had been best friends since college. They were the ones who built Skyline Apartments together. Mom and Aunt Vania were besties too. Every family social gathering, they always talked about "when Hazel and Damian are getting married."
I'm gonna puke.
"You're so loud when you eat that bread," Damian said, covering his nose. "This is a two-billion-rupiah apartment, not a pigpen."
I immediately shoved the bread in his face. "Try it. It's good. Free, too. Unlike your face, which cost a fortune and still looks terrible."
He slapped my hand away. My bread fell onto the elevator floor. "Damn it! That was my only breakfast!"
"Your own fault for being late," he replied casually as he stepped on the crumbs. Deliberately.
I was about to punch him. I swear. But then—ding. The lobby.
The doors opened. Uncle Bram was already waiting with a huge smile. Beside him... Dad.
"Hi, kids! Good morning!" Dad said cheerfully. "You're going to school together. It'll help you two bond."
As if.
Damian and I both stayed silent, got into the car, and sat at opposite ends. As far apart as possible. The entire drive, we fought using sign language. He flipped me off. I shot him the finger right back.
When we arrived at Bina Bangsa High School, we split up immediately. He was a Science Track 1 student. I was in Social Studies Track 2. Thank God.
Classes lasted until three in the afternoon and felt like three years. After school, I ran straight to the apartment pool. My escape.
Skyline Apartments really was expensive. It had a rooftop pool, a gym, a convenience store, and even a basketball court.
I sat on the edge of the pool with my feet dangling in the water. The afternoon air felt amazing.
"Well, look who it is. The troublemaker's here."
That voice again. Damian. He was wearing a T-shirt and basketball shorts. He had a ball with him.
"This is a public place," I said without looking at him. "You're the one who should leave."
"No. This is my practice time," he said, then immediately shot the ball. Swish.
"Jerk. That's where I usually sit."
"There's no sign saying 'Hazel's Property.'"
We ignored each other for ten minutes. He played basketball by himself. I scrolled through TikTok.
Eventually, my phone chimed. The Family WhatsApp group.
Mom: `Sweetie, tonight at seven. Family dinner with Uncle Bram's family in the penthouse. It's important.`
Dad: `Yes. Make peace already. You're both grown up.`
I immediately tossed my phone onto the chair. What feud? He was the one who started it.
"You got that message too, right?" Damian suddenly asked.
I turned around. He was already sitting beside me. A three-foot distance. Safe.
"Yeah. And I'm not apologizing," I said coldly.
"Who asked you to?" he replied. "I'm not apologizing either."
We fell silent again. The rooftop wind rustled around us.
"But..." Damian said quietly. "If we fight in front of our parents, they'll be sad."
I glanced at him. He glanced at me too. For the first time in seventeen years, we were thinking the exact same thing.
"...A ceasefire?" I offered hesitantly.
"A ceasefire," he agreed. "Just for tonight. Tomorrow, we go back to war."
"Deal."
We shook hands. Cold. Awkward. But when we let go, his hand brushed mine. We both yanked our hands away immediately.
Cringe.
Seven p.m. The twentieth-floor penthouse.
A long dining table. Candles. Five-star food. Dad, Mom, Uncle Bram, and Aunt Vania were laughing.
Damian and I sat side by side. At the very end. Pretending to be close.
"Now, this is more like it," Aunt Vania said as she pinched Damian's cheek. "Get closer. You two have been destined for each other since you were little."
"Mom..." Damian protested.
"Go on, feed Hazel," Mom said, handing Damian a spoon.
I held my breath. So did Damian.
Reluctantly, he fed me rice. I fed him too. Our parents' phone cameras kept clicking.
"You two really are perfect for each other," Uncle Bram said with a laugh. "Do you remember when you were five? You fought over a toy, then ended up sleeping together?"
"T-That was an accident!" we shouted at the same time.
Throughout dinner, we only smiled fake smiles. Under the table, our feet kept stepping on each other. Revenge.
After dinner, our parents invited us to play cards. Damian and I escaped to the penthouse balcony.
The night air was cold. The view of Jakarta from up there was gorgeous.
"I'm so freaking tired of acting," I complained.
"I'm tired of holding myself back from punching you too," Damian replied.
We laughed softly. For the first time, we laughed together without making fun of each other.
"But seriously," Damian said. "Don't cause any trouble tomorrow, okay? For our parents' sake."
"Yeah. One-day ceasefire."
"Deal."
We shook hands again. This time, we held on longer.
Suddenly, the balcony lights went out. The power went off. "AAAKKK!" I yelped in surprise and unconsciously gripped Damian's hand tightly.
It was pitch-black. The only sound was both of our heartbeats.
"Let go," Damian whispered. "No," I whispered back.
And in that darkness, I felt something. My heart was pounding—not because I was scared. But because his hand was warm.
Ding. The lights came back on.
We let go like we'd been electrocuted. Both our faces were bright red.
"THAT WAS BECAUSE IT WAS DARK!" we yelled at the same time.
Then we both fell silent. Both embarrassed.
From inside, Dad called, "Kids! The cake's here!"
We went back inside. Smiled again. Acted close again.
But deep down... something felt strange.
World War III in the elevator that morning... would it really turn into a ceasefire?
Or... was this the beginning of another war?
A war against our own feelings.
****[To Be Continued]