Finally, We Meet Again

Prologue

Pekanbaru, August 2008

In the late afternoon glow of a summer long past, a little girl sat cross-legged on the edge of a sun-drenched field. The grass, warm beneath her, tickled the bare skin above her socks, but she didn’t mind. Her sandals were loosely buckled, one barely hanging on. There were flecks of dirt on her knees from a stumble she no longer remembered, but she wasn’t one to complain. She had everything she needed—her favourite childhood snack crinkling softly in her lap, and the perfect view of the field ahead.

She was no older than the other children her age, maybe six or seven, but something about her felt slightly out of time. Her gaze held a kind of quiet that often went unnoticed, the kind that made people wonder if she was truly present or already dreaming.

Each bite of her snack was taken slowly, not out of hunger, but habit. She liked the rhythm of it. The crunch grounded her, tethered her to that very spot—where the sky was open, and the air smelled like dry leaves and the sun’s warmth on pavement.

Across the field, a group of boys were practising Karate. Their white uniforms flared with every sharp movement, catching the golden light like paper lanterns. They looked serious, even proud, yelling with each stance like they were training for something important.

But her eyes never strayed from one boy.

He was smaller than the rest, a little clumsy, maybe even unnoticed by others. But not by her. No, she watched him closely—how his fists tightened before every punch, how he sometimes bit his lip in concentration, how he never quit, even when he stumbled. There was something about him. Like the breeze before the storm. Gentle at first glance, but persistent. She came every week. Always at the same time. Always with the same snack in hand. Her mother thought she liked the walk. Her teacher thought she needed the quiet. But only she knew why she came.

He never knew she was there.

Not once did his eyes catch hers. Not once did he slow down, even when she thought he might’ve felt her gaze. She didn’t expect him to. It wasn’t about being seen. She didn’t need a friendship, or a moment shared across the field. Just knowing he existed—just watching him move with a quiet kind of fire—that was enough.

Sometimes, when the wind carried the sound of his voice just right, she felt like it reached her before anything else did. Like the universe had stretched out time, just a little, so she could remember this.

She didn’t know his name. Not yet. But her heart had memorised something truer than names.

There were no promises exchanged. No hellos. No goodbyes. Only a girl with dust on her knees and sweetness on her tongue, a boy with a storm in his chest, and a school field that held a secret neither of them would understand for years to come.

Maybe it was nothing. But maybe, just maybe….

It was everything.