THORNY LOVE

The Group Chat

Rania believed in structure. She believed in clear, direct communication. With the list of unwilling volunteers in hand, she spent the evening doing what she did best: organizing. She cross-referenced the names with class schedules to create a draft duty roster, complete with designated 30-minute breaks. She typed up a concise, one-page document outlining the code of conduct.

Her final act was to create a new group chat. She titled it "Pensi Security Official" and, one by one, added the twelve names from Bima's crumpled list, plus her own and his.

She took a deep breath and posted the first message, a perfect digital embodiment of her personality.

Rania Putri: Welcome, members of the 28th Annual Arts Festival Security Team. I am Rania, your coordinating president. Bima is your head of security. This group is for official communication only. Please keep all discussions professional and on-topic. Attached, you will find the preliminary duty roster and code of conduct. Please review it before our first official briefing on Wednesday. Thank you for your cooperation.

She attached two neatly formatted PDF files. Then, she set her phone down, satisfied. It was clear, efficient, and professional.

Her phone immediately buzzed. And then it didn't stop.

Agung (Basketball): PDF? Srsly?

Rizky (Guitar): yo bima u seein this?

Galih: [Sticker of a confused cat buried in paperwork]

Agung (Basketball): Is there free food for security? That's all i need to know.

Someone named Dinda: OMG Rizky is that a new sticker? So cute!

Rizky (Guitar): [Sticker of a cat giving a thumbs up]

Rania watched in horror as her pristine, professional group chat devolved into chaos in less than sixty seconds. Memes, inside jokes, and off-topic chatter flooded the screen.

Then, Bima's name popped up. She held her breath, hoping he would restore order.

Bima Satria: Free food is the most important question, Agung is a man of culture.

Bima Satria: And no, Princess Rania doesn't believe in fun. Only in PDFs.

The chat erupted with laughing emojis. Someone nicknamed her "Commander Rania." Another called her "The PDF Queen." She felt her face burn with a humiliating heat. She was their leader, and they were openly mocking her.

She tried to regain control.

Rania Putri: Please, can we remain on topic? This is a serious responsibility.

Agung (Basketball): ok COMMANDER 🫡

That was the last straw. She muted the notifications and threw her phone onto her bed. Her perfect plan was in shambles. Her team was a mutiny waiting to happen. And Bima—Bima was their pirate king.

The next day, she found him by the sports field, leaning against a tree, watching his friends with a lazy smile. She stormed over to him, her phone in her hand like a weapon.

"This is a disaster," she said, shoving the phone in his face to show him the chaotic chat log. "Your team is out of control. They're not taking any of this seriously. Thanks to you."

Bima took the phone from her. He scrolled through the messages, and to her utter fury, he chuckled.

"What are you talking about? This isn't a disaster," he said, handing the phone back. "It's a team. They're joking, they're talking. They're actually becoming a group. Would you prefer they were all so terrified of you that they just left the chat?"

"I would prefer it if they read the documents I prepared and acted like responsible adults!"

"They're not adults, Rania. They're teenagers. You can't force them to respect you with a formal title and a rule book," he said, his tone becoming serious. "Right now, to them, you're just the boss who gives orders. I'm the one who's actually on their side. They're not going to follow your schedule. But they'll listen to me when I tell them where to be on Friday night."

His words stung because they were true. She had their names on a list, but he had their attention. A wave of frustration and helplessness washed over her. "I don't know how to do that," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "I only know how to make the plans."

The admission hung in the air between them. For the first time, she wasn't the unshakeable Student Council President. She was just a girl who was in over her head.

Bima looked at her, and the mocking glint in his eyes softened for a moment. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his messy hair.

"Okay. Look," he said, his voice losing its usual sarcastic bite. "How about this. You handle the 'what'. You make your maps, you figure out the schedules, you decide what needs to be done. I'll handle the 'who'. I'll make sure they're in the right place at the right time. I'll be your... translator."

He said the word 'translator' as if it tasted strange in his mouth.

It was a truce. An unconventional, fragile truce.

"Fine," she said, clutching her phone.

"Fine," he echoed. "Now send me the final roster. I'll translate it from 'Corporate Robot' into 'Human Being'."

He walked away, leaving her standing by the field. That evening, she finalized the schedule. It was perfect, balanced, and clear. She sent the file to Bima with the message: Here is the plan.

A minute later, in the chaotic group chat, a new message from Bima appeared.

Bima Satria: Alright listen up clowns. Agung, Rizky, you're with me at the back gate 7-9 PM. Galih, you're on patrol. Maya, you're on snacks duty (aka spy duty). Everyone else, check your DMs. Don't be late or I'm telling your moms.

The response was a series of thumbs-up emojis and jokes. It was messy. It was unprofessional. But for the first time, it was a team. And Rania was beginning to understand that sometimes, the most effective plans have nothing to do with a PDF.