The Night Wind
1341 Words
The night wind tapped gently against Reina’s apartment window, soft but persistent, like a reminder that time keeps moving even when the heart refuses to follow. Inside, the room was pristine, almost sterile. White and grey dominated the space, with no trace of any daring color. A straight-lined sofa, a spotless glass table, and a perfectly arranged bookshelf—everything seemed built to deny that chaos had ever lived here.
Reina sat at the dining table, posture upright as always, but her hand clutched a crumpled piece of paper. A wedding invitation. It should’ve been thrown away weeks ago, but like a thorn caught between teeth, she kept returning to it.
> Mira & Adeline — March 24, 7 PM, South Jakarta
Adeline. A name Mira once casually mentioned as his "creative project partner." Now, his life partner. Reina let out a short, cold laugh. Her fingers brushed the faint scar on her left wrist. Not from physical pain, but from that night—the night the truth exploded in silence—a wine glass had shattered in her hand without her even noticing.
Back then, Mira’s laptop screen was open. Reina was tidying the kitchen when the light caught her eye. Curious, she approached—and her world shifted with one short paragraph:
"Please don’t post our photo yet. Reina still thinks everything is fine. I’ll find the right time."
No tears came that night. Just a tremble in her fingertips and a breath heavier than usual.
---
At the office the next day, Reina became herself again: sharp, precise, composed. The legal world didn’t allow room for drama. But one person could read the cracks in her controlled facade: Dian.
Dian, a coworker and silent companion. They weren’t the type of friends who vacationed together or swapped lipstick in the restroom. But they knew how to sit side by side in silence, and that was enough.
That day, their lunch moved to a hidden coffee shop tucked in a narrow alley behind the office. Rain drizzled softly outside, and the scent of damp earth slipped into their quiet conversation.
"Rein..." Dian started, eyes on the window. "I know you hate being probed. But you look like... a shadow of yourself."
Reina didn’t answer immediately. She stirred her cappuccino slowly, then stared at the foam.
"I’m fine."
"You’re not a robot. You’re human. You’re allowed to break."
"If I break, I can’t work. If I can’t work, I lose control. Simple."
Dian didn’t argue. She simply nodded. But before they parted ways, she said:
"If someday you want to talk... I’ll listen. No solutions, no sympathy. Just listen."
Reina didn’t reply. But for the first time, her eyes lingered on Dian’s face longer than usual.
---
That night, Reina opened the small drawer in her study. Inside was a dusty photo frame. She pulled it out gently, revealing Mira’s smiling face next to hers, the sea behind them.
She flipped the frame. Mira’s handwriting etched on the back:
"You’re the quietest home I’ve ever known. But I loved that home."
---
Reina remembered the night Mira left. No drama, no shouting. Just a chilling quiet that pierced to the bone.
Mira sat on the dining chair they once picked together—a teakwood piece now too sturdy for something as fragile as a goodbye. His hand wrapped around a cup of untouched tea, his eyes fixed on the floor as if searching for answers in the cold white tiles.
Reina stood at the edge of the kitchen, towel in hand. Water dripped from her hair, freshly showered, and everything felt too ordinary for such a devastating night.
Mira took a deep breath, as if preparing to drop a silent bomb.
"We’re different, Rein. And more and more... I feel like you don’t need me. You need control."
Reina didn’t react. She blinked slowly, holding back something behind her deep brown eyes. Her tone was flat, but the fall was sharp.
"So you ran to someone else?"
A pause. Long. Far too long for a question that needed only yes or no.
Mira looked up. For the first time that night, their eyes met. But Reina didn’t see guilt. Not even courage. What she saw was... emptiness.
"I... fell in love again."
His voice was raspy. Not from emotion, but like someone who’d held back speaking for so long, only to lose life with every word.
"It wasn’t planned. But it feels real."
And there it was, the knife laid down quietly. That sentence cut deeper than betrayal. *Fell in love again*. As if love was an accident one could justify. As if Reina’s heart was just a pavement to pass without warning.
Reina stared at him, long and cold. Not from numbness, but from feeling too much to know how to release it.
"Real? You know what’s real, Mir? Real was us staying up late editing proposals. Real was when you cried about your father and I listened, even when I was falling apart too. Real... was me."
Mira looked down. No defense. No words. Perhaps none left.
Reina set her towel down on the table. Nothing was thrown. No hysteria. But inside her head, the scream was deafening: *I wasn’t enough.*
"You can leave. But don’t you dare say your feelings are more ‘real’ than mine. What you have now is an excuse. And it will never be enough to erase what you broke."
---
Time passed, but not much changed. Until one night, Reina stood alone on the office rooftop, looking out over Jakarta’s skyline. City lights flickered like low notes in an unfinished symphony.
Dian appeared with two cups of warm green tea. She handed one to Reina.
"Still dream about him?" Dian asked softly.
Reina didn’t answer.
"Rein, it’s okay to shut every door. Just don’t lock them from the inside. You might miss who comes knocking."
Reina turned to her, a faint smile on her lips.
"Are you telling me to fall in love again?"
"No. I’m telling you to believe you can live without making pain your foundation."
---
Weeks later, Reina attended her firm’s networking event. A rooftop bar in central Jakarta. She wore a black blazer and dark red lipstick. Her face calm, her stance steady.
Standing by the railing, looking out at the city, her chest stirred with a quiet tremor.
"Reina Pramesti? Seriously... you look more like a partner now, but still haven’t learned to smile?"
She turned. A man in a relaxed shirt and blazer stood beside her, with a familiar smile and sharp hazel eyes.
"If I smile now, you’ll think I’m enchanted by all this small talk," she said coolly, but a faint smile followed.
Tama laughed, warm and flowing. "Yeah, you’ve always trusted logic more than feelings. But once in a while, you should let that smile slip out."
Their conversation grew from formal to warm. They reminisced about college, shared stories of exes. For the first time, Reina mentioned Mira’s name without flinching.
"He left because I was too quiet," Reina said. "I thought quiet meant stability."
"Maybe he didn’t know how to stay in a house too tidy for mess. But that wasn’t your fault."
Reina looked at Tama. There was honesty in his gaze. Not pity. Not hope. Just mutual understanding of what it means to lose.
---
As they parted ways, Tama looked deep into her eyes. "You know, you’ve always been like a rock. But even stone can crack."
Reina was silent. Then came a smile, more real than before.
"I’d rather be a rock than foam that disappears with the tide."
They held each other’s gaze. Not in love, but in recognition. That wounds don’t always need healing. Sometimes, acceptance is enough.
That night, as Reina stepped back into the crowd, she glanced over her shoulder. Tama still stood by the rooftop edge, staring at the sky. Quiet. But no longer silent.
She smiled. The cracks weren’t gone. But now, she knew: through the cracks, the light could enter.
- Writer
