The heat hit me the second I stepped out of Hang Nadim Airport—thick, sticky, clinging to my skin like glue.
It wasn’t the dusty, exhaust-filled heat of Jakarta. This was a wet heat—steaming seawater mixed with boiling asphalt, where the sun hung so low it felt like it could scorch your scalp if you dared to walk without cover.
I stood at the deserted departure drop-off zone with one large suitcase containing the remains of my life.
Gabriel was gone. His plane headed back to Jakarta the moment he confirmed I had entered the terminal this morning. He left me with a bright yellow Nokia shaped like a banana, a debit card with a pathetic monthly limit, and a phone number scrawled on a receipt.
Raphael.
Just a first name. No last name. No job title.
I took a deep breath, trying to hold ba
