Morning sunlight didn't feel like sunlight. It felt like a slap in the face—sharp, bright, and absolutely unnecessary. Andra dragged his feet across the pavement outside his boarding house, every step echoing the exhaustion that clung to his bones like wet cement. He had slept two hours—two—and even that felt like an exaggeration. When he glanced at his phone while locking the boarding house door earlier, the time boldly informed him that it was 7:03 a.m.
Now it was 8:21. The world went on. Cars passed. Students walked with purpose. Andra walked with nothing but regret.
"Why did I even get involved yesterday…?" he muttered under his breath.
But even in his muttering, there was that flicker of gratitude—one he absolutely refused to admit out loud. He'd helped someone. He'd done the right thing. Even if that right thing meant sleeping on the floor like a medieval monk, contemplating every life decision that brought him there.
He yawned wide—so wide it felt like his jaw might split.
"Hooaaaaam…" he groaned.
Just in time, from the campus gate, two familiar voices pounced.
"Andra?!"
He stiffened. No. God, no. Not now.
"Andra, you look like a corpse, bro," Budi announced with unnecessary enthusiasm.
Udin chimed in right after, "More like a ghost. A tired one. A ghost who stayed up to watch Korean drama marathons."
"I didn't—" Andra began, but he yawned again midsentence.
Budi and Udin exchanged glances like doctors examining a sick patient.
Then both of them stared at him with an expression that screamed:
This is karma.
Andra felt the hair on his neck stand. "What," he said flatly. "What is that look supposed to mean?"
Budi patted his shoulder so dramatically it might as well have been a funeral gesture. "Remember how you ditched us yesterday? Remember how you left us to do your share in the group assignment?"
Andra stared at him, genuinely offended. "EXCUSE ME? I was helping someone! A human being! In distress!"
"Uh-huh," Udin said, unimpressed. "We call that karma. The universe balances."
"Andra," Budi added seriously, "the universe is cruel. But also fair. Be grateful."
Andra blinked slowly.
He wanted to punch both of them. Just a little. Just enough so the universe would call it even.
---
By the time the three of them entered the lecture hall, Andra's brain felt like it was simmering in lukewarm oil. Every seat felt too hard, every sound felt too loud, every ray of light felt illegal. He dropped into his usual spot by the window, letting his backpack slide to the floor.
The lecturer wasn't there yet. Students chatted, their voices merging into a blur.
He leaned back.
"Two hours," he muttered. "Two hours of sleep. Why. Why, universe."
Budi kicked his chair lightly from behind. "Maybe don't sleep at 3 a.m., bro."
"I didn't sleep at 3 a.m."
His eyes darkened.
"I didn't sleep at all until 3 a.m."
Udin snorted. "Bro… what were you doing?"
Andra stared emptily at the desk.
Trying not to look at the drunk girl on the hotel bed.
Trying not to die of stress on the hotel floor.
Trying to sleep while his mind screamed every three seconds.
His internal monologue was dramatic enough to be written by Shakespeare.
But all he said aloud was:
"…life."
"Ah," his friends said in unison. Judging him. Quietly. Loudly. Completely.
The classroom door opened, and several students entered.
Andra didn't pay attention at first.
Until one voice down the hallway—too familiar—made him glance up.
There she was.
Nafisa.
Her hair tied neatly today, her uniform crisp, her skin glowing in a way that offended him on a spiritual level.
She looked fresh.
Fresh.
How. How is that possible? How does someone drink that much and then come to class like she ate vitamins made of sunlight and prosperity?
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
Nafisa walked casually to her seat at the other end of the room. She looked cheerful. She looked normal. She looked completely untouched by the catastrophic adventure of last night.
He felt his eyelid twitch violently.
Inside his skull, he screamed:
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!
Outside, he said nothing. Because he was sane. Barely.
She didn't look at him. Not even once. Why would she? She didn't know him. She didn't remember him. She didn't remember anything except… well, nothing.
Someone… maybe a guy… brought her to a hotel.
There was no weirdness.
There was no danger.
She woke up alone.
She saw no trace of anything suspicious.
So she shrugged it off.
Andra wanted to cry blood.
The lecturer finally arrived. The class quieted.
Andra tried to listen. He really did. But his brain kept drifting. He kept seeing her confused, drunk face from last night, how she clung to him like a lost cat, how she nearly tripped five times, how she almost puked on his shoes—
And yet here she was.
Acting as though her life was a perfect K-drama intro scene.
Meanwhile Andra…
Andra looked like a man whose soul had left his body and refused to return.
Udin poked him with a pen. "Hey. Why do you keep glancing at her?"
"I'm not," Andra argued.
He was.
Budi whispered, "Bro, do you know her? Is she the reason you didn't sleep?"
"I— NO."
(Yes.)
"She's—NO!"
(Totally yes.)
He groaned, burying his face into his hands.
---
When the lecture ended an hour later, Andra packed his things and dragged himself outside. His vision blurred from exhaustion, his mood was a mess, and his mind kept replaying images he didn't ask for.
He just wanted his bed.
That was all.
He pushed open the classroom door—
—and froze.
Nafisa was walking through the hallway.
With someone.
A tall guy.
A guy in the law faculty jacket.
A guy whose face looked like a mixture of confidence and casual charm.
Dani. Her senior and her boyfriend.
Andra stopped mid-step.
The two of them were laughing at something. Dani gently ruffled Nafisa's hair. Nafisa playfully swatted his hand. They looked picture-perfect.
Something in Andra's chest tugged.
Not jealousy.
No. Definitely not.
More like… the universe punching him in the stomach with irony.
He forced himself to sigh, long and slow. "Why am I even affected," he muttered. "Nothing changed. Nothing ever changes."
He shook his head hard as if to knock sense back into his skull.
Get it together. You don't know her. She doesn't know you. Last night was a coincidence. That's all.
He straightened his backpack strap on his shoulder.
Then, deciding that thinking was not good for his emotional stability, he turned.
"I'm going to the library," he declared.
Budi actually recoiled. "What?! Why?!"
Udin stared at him like he'd just transformed into a mythical creature. "Bro, are you okay? Are you sick? Are you heartbroken?"
"I'm FINE," Andra snapped.
He was not fine.
But burying emotions under piles of books was the only thing he could do today without screaming into the void.
"I'm studying," he insisted.
Both his friends blanched dramatically.
"Without us," he added.
Their reaction was immediate.
"Safe. Totally safe. You go," Budi said, waving him off.
"We love you but not enough to suffer through old textbooks," Udin added.
Andra ignored them and walked toward the library.
His footsteps felt steadier with each step, though his mind was still a storm.
Because yes—nothing changed.
Indeed.