People Who Stay
1040 Words
Sophia regretted agreeing to spend Saturday with Vivian approximately eight minutes after picking her up.
Not because Vivian was unpleasant.
That would have been easier.
Instead, the girl was painfully polite.
“Thank you for coming, Jie.”
Sophia adjusted her sunglasses slightly while unlocking the car.
“You’ve thanked me four times already.”
“Sorry.”
“And stop apologizing so much.”
Vivian blinked immediately.
“…Sorry.”
Sophia stared at her.
Then sighed heavily and entered the driver’s seat.
This was going to be exhausting.
⸻
Jakarta was unusually sunny after nearly a week of rain.
Traffic crowded the streets around Plaza Indonesia while weekend shoppers filled sidewalks and cafés with noise and movement.
Vivian sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window with visible curiosity.
“You’ve never been here before?” Sophia asked.
“Not really.” Vivian smiled softly. “Dad doesn’t like Jakarta traffic.”
Sophia almost laughed.
Of course he didn’t.
Her father only ever visited places convenient for himself.
“University orientation starts next month?” Sophia asked.
Vivian nodded excitedly. “Architecture.”
Sophia glanced at her briefly.
Interesting.
“Why architecture?”
The girl hesitated before answering.
“I like spaces.”
Sophia raised an eyebrow.
“That sounds vague.”
Vivian laughed nervously. “I mean… I like how buildings can make people feel things.”
The answer caught Sophia slightly off guard.
Because it sounded strangely familiar.
Like something Adrian would say.
Annoying.
“Your grades must be good,” Sophia muttered.
Vivian looked down shyly. “I got a scholarship.”
Sophia felt something uncomfortable twist inside her chest.
Because suddenly she understood why her father brought Vivian to dinner that night.
Not to reconnect.
To secure support in Jakarta.
Housing.
Connections.
Stability.
Using women to carry responsibilities again.
The realization left bitterness in Sophia’s mouth.
⸻
Three hours later, they sat inside a café in Senopati while afternoon sunlight spilled softly across the windows.
Vivian looked visibly happier now after exploring bookstores and campus areas all morning.
“You’re different than I expected,” she admitted carefully while stirring her iced tea.
Sophia looked up from her coffee.
“That’s never reassuring.”
Vivian smiled awkwardly. “Dad said you were scary.”
“He’s not wrong.”
“No.” Vivian shook her head softly. “I think you’re just tired.”
The words landed too directly.
Sophia looked away first.
Again.
Why was everyone suddenly seeing through her lately?
“Can I ask something?” Vivian said quietly.
“You already are.”
The girl hesitated.
“…Do you hate us?”
Sophia froze slightly.
There it was.
The question hidden beneath every polite smile since they met.
Us.
Not just Vivian.
The other daughters too.
Sophia stared silently at her untouched coffee.
Then finally:
“I tried to.”
Vivian looked surprised.
“When I was younger,” Sophia admitted quietly, “it felt easier to blame all of you instead of him.”
The confession tasted ugly in her mouth.
But true.
Because hatred was simpler than grief.
Vivian lowered her eyes slowly.
“My mom used to cry because of your mother too.”
Sophia blinked.
What?
“She knew about your family,” Vivian continued softly. “Dad promised he would leave eventually.”
Of course he did.
Sophia suddenly felt exhausted all over again.
One selfish man creating multiple versions of the same suffering.
Different women.
Different daughters.
Same damage.
“I’m sorry,” Vivian whispered unexpectedly.
Sophia frowned immediately.
“For what?”
“For existing in your life like this.”
The sincerity in her voice hit harder than expected.
Because Vivian genuinely sounded guilty.
Sophia looked at the young woman sitting across from her.
Nervous hands.
Careful words.
Trying desperately not to take up emotional space.
Too familiar.
Too much like her mother.
And suddenly Sophia realized something painful:
The daughters inherited the consequences long after the father escaped them.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
“You don’t need to apologize for him,” Sophia said quietly.
Vivian looked startled.
Neither of them noticed Sophia’s phone vibrating until the screen lit across the table.
Adrian.
Vivian immediately looked between them.
“…Should I pretend not to notice your face changed?”
“It didn’t.”
“It really did.”
Sophia ignored her and answered the call.
“What.”
A pause.
Then Adrian’s calm voice:
“You answer every phone call like someone owes you money.”
Vivian burst into laughter across the table.
Traitor.
Sophia glared at her.
“What do you want?”
“I’m near Senopati for a meeting.”
Sophia’s grip tightened slightly around the phone.
How did he always appear at the wrong time?
Or the right time.
More dangerous possibility.
“And?”
“And I skipped lunch because apparently I enjoy suffering.”
Sophia rolled her eyes automatically.
“That sounds like a personal problem.”
“Mm.” A brief pause. “You still angry with me?”
The directness caught her off guard.
Across the table, Vivian was pretending very badly not to listen.
Sophia lowered her voice slightly.
“I wasn’t angry.”
“You attacked me emotionally over lunch invitations.”
“…That’s dramatic.”
“It was memorable.”
Despite herself, Sophia felt tension ease slightly inside her chest.
Annoying.
“You’re impossible,” she muttered.
A soft laugh came through the phone.
“There’s the normal voice again.”
That warmth returned immediately.
Gentle.
Steady.
Dangerous.
Vivian watched her carefully now.
Observing too much.
Sophia hated observant people.
“Fine,” Sophia said quietly into the phone. “We’re at Mirabelle Café.”
“We?”
“My half-sister.”
Silence.
Then unexpectedly:
“How’s she doing?”
The simple question caught Sophia off guard again.
Not judgment.
Not curiosity.
Concern.
Always concern.
Sophia looked across the table at Vivian, who suddenly seemed much younger than before.
“…Lonely,” Sophia admitted softly.
Adrian’s voice gentled immediately.
“Then be kind to her.”
The words settled quietly inside Sophia’s chest.
Because somehow—
Adrian always knew exactly which part of her humanity she was trying hardest to hide.
- Writer
