Chapter 11: Paper Castles
1871 Words
Elara Dwijaya
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The rhythmic impact of chalk against the blackboard was the only sound anchoring me to reality.
White dust danced in the shafts of morning sunlight cutting through the ventilation blocks, settling like snow on the dark sleeves of my blazer. The air smelled of old wood, cheap lemon floor cleaner, and the distinct, metallic tang of graphite pencils.
It was a humble scent, far removed from the suffocating sandalwood and expensive despair that permeated the Dwijaya residence, but to me, it smelled like freedom.
"Alright, who wants to tackle number three?"
My voice rang out, projected with an energy I had to manually crank up like a rusted generator. Here, within these four peeling walls, I wasn't the disappointment of a failing dynasty. I was Ms. Ela. I was competent. I was safe.
Twenty small hands shot into the air.
"Me! Me!"
"Ms. Ela, pick me!"
A smile tugged at my lips—a real one, not the porcelain mask I wore for my mother’s socialite friends. My gaze swept over the sea of eager faces before landing on the center row.
Lyra.
She hadn't raised her hand. Her head was bent low over her notebook, a pink pencil gripped tightly in her small fist. Her brow was furrowed in absolute concentration, the tip of her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth.
The resemblance hit me like a physical blow.
It was the exact same expression Dio wore when he was calibrating the espresso machine.
For a split second, the classroom dissolved. The smell of floor wax was replaced by the aroma of turmeric and grilled fish. I could hear the low rumble of Dio’s laugh and feel the phantom warmth of his arm pressing against mine as we squeezed together for that ridiculous selfie.
A strange, hollow ache bloomed in the center of my chest. It was a dangerous feeling. It felt like wanting to go home, except 'home' wasn't the mansion on Brawijaya Street.
Elara, focus. You are teaching math, not starring in a romantic drama.
I cleared my throat, banishing the memory of the cafe.
"Lyra? Why don't you give it a try?"
The little girl’s head snapped up. Her large gray eyes widened, blinking away the focus trance. Then, a grin split her face. She scrambled out of her chair, marching to the front with the confidence of a CEO entering a boardroom.
She solved the equation in seconds. The numbers were neat, the logic flawless.
"Perfect score," I announced, sticking a gold star on the back of her hand.
"Excellent work, Lyra."
"Thank you, Ms. Ela!"
She beamed, the gold star catching the light, and skipped back to her seat.
Time, unfortunately, had no respect for my sanctuary.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The dismissal bell shattered the peace. It was the signal that my immunity was expiring. The fortress walls were coming down, and Elara Dwijaya had to return to the front lines.
Chaos erupted as bags were zipped and chairs scraped against the floor. One by one, the students filtered out, leaving the room quiet and empty.
Only Lyra remained. She sat on top of her desk, swinging her legs, hugging her pink rabbit backpack.
"Ready, sweetie? Let's go wait for your Dad."
We walked out into the humid embrace of the Jakarta afternoon. The heat rose from the asphalt in shimmering waves, carrying the scent of exhaust and dust. We stood under the shade of the large angsana tree near the gate, a small island of cool in the sweltering day.
"There he is!" Lyra pointed a small finger toward the parking lot.
My pulse did a traitorous little skip.
Dio was walking toward us. He had swapped the apron for a navy polo shirt that fit him a little too well, paired with simple beige chinos. He moved with an easy, unhurried grace that made the frantic energy of the school run seem to slow down around him.
As he closed the distance, his eyes found mine.
The corners of his mouth lifted. It wasn't a salesman’s grin or a polite grimace. It was warm. It was familiar.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Ela," his baritone voice cut through the noise of idling engines.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Dio."
Lyra abandoned my side immediately, launching herself at his legs.
"Daddy! I got another star!" She waved her hand frantically, showing off the foil sticker.
Dio chuckled, the sound vibrating in the air between us. He crouched down, inspecting the star with the seriousness of a diamond appraiser.
"Impressive. That definitely earns you an extra thirty minutes of cartoons tonight."
"Yes!"
Dio straightened up, sliding one hand into his pocket. His gaze shifted back to me, softening around the edges.
"Thanks for watching her, Elara. And... thanks for stopping by yesterday. It was nice."
"It was no trouble," I replied, fighting the heat rising in my cheeks.
"The lunch was delicious. And... honestly, I enjoyed seeing her room. It’s a lovely home you have."
The words slipped out before I could filter them.
Dio rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly boyish.
"Yeah. Well. She likes to show off when we have guests. It doesn't happen often."
Silence settled between us. It wasn't the heavy, loaded silence of my family dinners. It was comfortable, filled with things we didn't quite know how to say yet.
"We should get going," Dio said, breaking the spell.
"Drive safe, Elara."
"You too."
"Bye, Ms. Ela!"
I waved until the white hatchback merged into the traffic and disappeared. Slowly, my hand dropped to my side. The smile on my face began to fade, replaced by the crushing weight of reality. The movie was over. The credits were rolling.
Thwack!
A hand slapped my shoulder hard enough to make me jump.
"Oh God!"
I spun around, clutching my chest. Saskia was standing there, grinning like a cheshire cat that had just swallowed the canary and the cage. Her eyebrows were doing a complicated dance.
"Well, well, well," she drawled, crossing her arms.
"Careful staring at the tire tracks, Ela. You’re going to burn a hole in the asphalt."
I rolled my eyes, exhaling a sharp breath.
"You nearly gave me a heart attack, Kia."
Saskia stepped into my personal space, her expression shifting from playful to investigative.
"Spill it. That photo you sent yesterday? The 'Happy Family' portrait? You’ve been glowing all morning like you swallowed a lightbulb."
My face burned. There was no point lying to Saskia; she was a human lie detector with a teaching degree.
"It was just a photo, Saskia. Lyra insisted."
"Uh-huh. Lyra insisted. But your cheek pressed against his? That looked pretty voluntary to me." She nudged my ribs with her elbow.
"Admit it. You liked playing house in his secret lair."
I bit my lip, looking down at my dusty shoes. A small, defeated smile broke through.
"It was... nice, Kia. His place is amazing. It’s not fancy, but it’s warm. It feels like a real home. Unlike mine."
Saskia clapped her hands together.
"See! Senopati location. Handsome widower. Cute kid. It’s the jackpot, Elara! If you don't lock that down, step aside. I’m tagging in."
"You’re ridiculous."
We both laughed, the sound bright and carefree against the backdrop of the dusty schoolyard. For a moment, everything felt light.
Then, Saskia’s laughter cut off abruptly.
Her eyes, previously sparkling with mischief, fixed on a point over my shoulder. Her jaw tightened.
"Ela," she whispered, her voice dropping to a warning tone.
"Don't look now, we have a hostile bogie at twelve o'clock."
A cold shiver raced down my spine, instantly killing the warmth of the afternoon.
I turned slowly.
Across the street, parked aggressively close to the peeling school gate, was a black sports sedan. The paint was polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the distorted world around it. It looked like a shark circling a reef of minnows.
Leaning against the hood was a man in a crisp, slim-fit shirt, sunglasses tucked into his collar.
Rei Darvian.
My blood turned to ice. My hands curled into fists at my sides.
"What is he doing here?" I hissed.
Saskia patted my back, her voice grim.
"I’m heading to the staff room. If you need an extraction, scream. I have a stapler and I’m not afraid to use it."
"Thanks, Kia."
She retreated, leaving me alone on the sidewalk.
Rei saw me. He pushed himself off the car and began to walk toward me. His gait was arrogant, a slow saunter that suggested he owned the pavement beneath his expensive leather loafers.
"Rei," I greeted him, my voice flat.
"Did you lose the ability to read text messages last night?"
He stopped two feet away. The scent of his cologne—heavy, musky, and expensive—hit me like a physical wall, scrubbing away the lingering memory of Dio’s clean soap.
He took the sunglasses from his collar, inspecting the school building with a sneer of undisguised disgust. He looked at the cracked paint, the overflowing trash bin, the faded banner.
"I was just curious," he said smoothly.
"I wanted to see where my future wife spends her days. Turns out... it’s even more pathetic than I imagined."
My jaw clenched until my teeth ached.
"Watch your mouth. This is my workplace."
"It’s a waste of time," he corrected, turning his gaze to me. He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes possessive and cold.
"You’re a diamond, Elara. You don't belong in the dirt."
"Go home, Rei. I’m busy."
I turned on my heel, intending to march back into the safety of the school.
"Your mother agreed to the engagement date."
The words were spoken softly, but they hit me with the force of a wrecking ball.
My feet glued themselves to the pavement. The sounds of the traffic faded into a dull roar.
I turned back, horror dawning on me.
"What?"
Rei smiled. It was a predator’s smile—sharp, victorious, and utterly devoid of warmth. He stepped closer, invading my personal space, forcing me to tilt my head up.
"Last night, after your little tantrum in the street... your parents and I had a long talk. We came to an agreement. The engagement party is next month."
"No..." My voice trembled.
"I told you no. I refused."
Rei laughed, a low, condescending sound. He leaned in, his lips inches from my ear.
"You think you have a choice, darling? Dwijaya Trading needs a liquidity injection by Friday, or your father’s company collapses."
My eyes widened. Bankruptcy. The monster that had been lurking in the shadows of my house for years had finally stepped into the light.
Rei pulled back, savoring the shock on my face.
"So, stop playing teacher. And stop playing around with that coffee shop widower. From this moment on, you belong to me."
He winked, turned around, and walked back to his shining black car.
I stood frozen under the angsana tree. My legs felt like water. My lungs refused to draw air.
The happiness I had borrowed from Dio that morning shattered on the hot asphalt, leaving me standing in the wreckage.
The cage hadn't just closed. It had locked.
- Writer
