Let’s Not Fall in Love

Jakarta’s night shimmered behind its dark curtain, thousands of city lights twinkling like artificial stars. Amid towering skyscrapers standing tall, a luxurious rooftop bar offered a sprawling view of the city — a place where the rulers of business and law gathered, cloaked in elegance but charged with quiet tension. In one corner of the open balcony stood a woman, athletic and impossible to overlook. Reina Pramesti. Around 5’5”, her jet-black hair danced with the night breeze. The black blazer she wore framed her strong oval face, her jawline sharp, radiating firmness and professionalism. Her deep brown eyes were like knives—sharp yet warm, but only for those who truly got close. On her left wrist, a small scar whispered silent stories of a life full of twists and turns. Reina held a glass of white wine, its liquid shimmering in the soft light. Her gaze was empty, fixed on the endless city horizon. Instrumental jazz music floated through the air—soft, melancholic, echoing like an unfinished story. Glasses clinked gently, conversations wrapped in polite niceties often feeling hollow. Inside her mind, a quiet monologue played with a soft but certain voice: “Love is overrated. Marriage contracts can be broken. I trust MoUs more.” She exhaled deeply, her slender frame leaning against the cold railing. The atmosphere only deepened her sense of isolation. The polite small talk inside felt exhausting. She was not the type to find comfort in pretending. With slow but steady steps, Reina chose to step away, distancing herself from the crowd and the noise of hollow conversations. The night wind welcomed her warmly, brushing her smooth skin, bringing a moment of calm to a restless soul. Not long after, the elevator doors opened, revealing a man. Tama Wirawan. Tall, athletic, with a relaxed vibe contrasting the formal air around him. His casually loose shirt and blazer draped over his shoulders gave him an effortlessly chic look. His light brown hair was a little messy, hinting at a creative freedom far from the rigid world of law Reina inhabited. His hazel eyes sparkled with green flecks, attentive and slightly mysterious, fixed on Reina standing alone on the balcony. There was something about her that drew him—not just her beauty or elegance, but the cool aura she radiated, stirring his curiosity. Tama stepped closer, his voice light yet warm. “Reina Pramesti? Seriously… you’re looking more like a firm partner every day, but still no smile?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes warm but teasing, a faint mischievous smile playing on his lips, as if trying to crack the tough wall Reina had built. Reina turned, slightly startled but quickly masked it with a thin smile—one not quite carefree, more like a secret shared only between her and the night. “If I start smiling, you might think I’m already enchanted by all these polite games,” she replied softly, her tone laced with subtle sarcasm and unshakable confidence. Tama laughed, his voice warm, flowing like the night breeze rustling dry leaves. “Yeah, I know you always trust logic more than feelings. That’s what makes you different. But seriously, sometimes you should let that smile out. To lighten the mood, and… for yourself too.” Reina studied him, sharp eyes weighing each word. “I don’t know… maybe I’m afraid that smile will make people think I’m easily swayed. I’m not the type to break so easily, Tama.” Tama leaned back against the railing, casual but meaningful. “I get it. But you know, even the strongest need moments to let go. Sometimes. A smile isn’t weakness—it can be the strongest shield.” They stood side by side under the night sky, two different souls bound by similar wounds. “Our worlds are different,” Reina whispered almost to herself. “But I think our hearts… they’ve both been hurt.” Tama nodded, eyes full of deep understanding. “Exactly. Sometimes, all we need is one small smile to remind us, we’re not alone.” Reina smiled a little wider, still mysterious. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe I’m just scared, Tama.” Tama looked at her with sympathy, no words needed. The night and the wind spoke between them. Their conversation flowed slowly from formality to nostalgia, eventually turning into warm laughter that made the city night feel alive. “Remember college days?” Tama asked, sipping his drink. Reina smiled faintly, shadows of the past flickering in her eyes. “Remember. You were always the one stirring things up. I was the peacekeeper.” Tama shrugged casually. “Yeah, I like to color life a bit. But you made me think twice before joking around.” Reina laughed—different from usual—more alive, more human. “Being serious is important, but sometimes it feels heavy. Like I have to keep everything perfect.” “I get it. I’ve got parts of me I barely share,” Tama said, his gaze suddenly deep. “Sometimes, I hide behind humor.” They looked at each other, in a silence that felt comfortable. The talk turned to relationships and love, but with a touch of sarcasm and satire. “Ever had a toxic ex?” Tama asked jokingly. Reina raised her glass, a cynical smile on her lips. “Toxic? All my exes were like walking poison. I trust MoUs more than feelings.” Tama laughed. “Me too. Sometimes love is just a social contract that messes you up.” They laughed together, their voices blending with the night breeze, floating softly into the dark sky. As the night deepened and the city lights blurred into a soft haze below them, Tama looked at Reina with a gaze that had shifted—no longer casual, but deeper, more serious, as if trying to see past the walls she carefully maintained. The hum of distant traffic and the faint clinking of glasses around them seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the quiet between the two figures on the rooftop. “You know?” Tama began slowly, his voice low yet steady, “You’ve always been like a rock. Hard, steady, unshakable. But even rocks crack.” The words hung in the cool night air, gentle but heavy. Reina’s breath caught for a moment. She felt a tremor ripple beneath her calm exterior—a fragile crack in the armor she’d built over years of trials. She paused, eyes narrowing slightly as if gathering strength from the shadows. Then, with a voice firm and unwavering, she replied, “I’d rather be a rock than foam lost to the waves.” For a long moment, they simply looked at each other—two souls etched with skepticism and curiosity, each hiding scars beneath their composed facades. The breeze tugged at Reina’s hair, lifting stray strands that brushed her cheeks like a soft caress, reminding her of the vulnerability she rarely allowed herself to show. Reina took a step back, her heels clicking lightly on the rooftop floor as she turned toward the building’s entrance. The weight of unspoken words lingered between them. Before disappearing from view, she glanced over her shoulder—just once—catching Tama’s silhouette standing still at the edge of the rooftop, his eyes fixed on the sprawling night sky filled with mystery and quiet secrets. In that fleeting glance, there was a silent understanding, a connection forged in the unspoken truth that even the strongest hearts carry fractures beneath their surface. And as the door closed behind her, the city’s pulse continued below, indifferent yet alive, while two solitary figures held onto their hidden stories under the vast, endless sky.