Chapter 6: Borrowed Armor
1844 Words
Elara Dwijaya
"ELARA!"
The scream vibrated through the plastic casing of my phone, piercing my eardrum with the precision of a dentist’s drill.
"I stopped by a friend’s place, Mom. Just for a bit," I lied. My voice betrayed me, cracking slightly at the edges.
"Do you have any idea what time it is? Why didn't you come straight home? Rei is furious because you jumped out of his car like a lunatic! Are you trying to humiliate your father again?"
My eyes squeezed shut. There it was. The trifecta. Rei. Father. Humiliation. Never a question about my safety. Never a question about why I felt the need to flee a moving vehicle.
"Yes, Mom. I’m ordering a taxi now."
"Elara, listen to m—"
BEEP.
My thumb hit the red button with a spasm of defiance. Screw etiquette. My patience tank had hit absolute zero for the night.
"Why does he have to report everything to her? Tattletale," I hissed, lowering the phone. The device felt heavy, like a brick of guilt in my hand.
A long exhale began to leave my lungs, but it choked off halfway.
I turned my head.
And froze.
Dio was still there. Sitting on the wooden bench just a few feet away. He wasn't looking at the traffic or his phone. He was looking directly at me. One hand propped up his chin, and his lips were pressed together in a line that looked suspiciously like a suppressed smile.
Dead. I am dead. He heard everything.
"Ah... that..."
Panic scrambled my brain. My hands flew up to smooth my hair, a futile attempt to salvage some dignity.
"I’m actually a very obedient daughter, Mr. Dio. It’s just... my mother can be a little... intense."
A low chuckle escaped him. It wasn't mocking. It was a rich, warm sound that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He nodded slowly, as if he held a PhD in dealing with 'intense' relatives.
"No explanation needed, Ms. Ela. I have parents too."
Heat rushed up my neck, turning my face into a beacon. My carefully curated image of the professional, composed teacher had officially crumbled. First, I h****k his evening, then I wear his jacket like a security blanket, and now I’m caught being a rebellious teenager at twenty-six.
I cleared my throat, trying to summon a shred of authority.
"I should go. It’s late. Before the search party gets sent out."
Dio straightened his back, the easy slouch vanishing.
"Don't bother with the taxi. I’ll drive you."
My eyes widened.
"Oh? No, Mr. Dio! I couldn't impose. Really."
"It’s not an imposition. Besides..." His dark eyes flicked to my shoulders, where his denim jacket was still draped.
"...you’re currently holding my jacket hostage."
My gaze dropped. The oversized denim swallowed my silk dress whole.
"Ah. Right. The jacket."
"Keep it on. The wind has teeth tonight," he cut in smoothly. He stood up, fishing a set of keys from his pocket.
"Let's go."
Arguments died in my throat. My legs felt like jelly, and the prospect of waiting alone on the curb for a stranger’s car was suddenly unappealing.
We walked toward the darker side of the parking lot. A white hatchback sat there—a standard, sensible LCGC model. It was clean and well-maintained, but it stood out like a sore thumb among the luxury sedans usually parked in Senopati.
It fit him. Unpretentious. Solid.
BLAM.
The passenger door closed with a tinny thud. The cabin smelled of peppermint and something clean, like rain. No trash, no empty water bottles, no pretension.
The engine hummed to life, a gentle vibration under the floorboards as we slid into the stream of South Jakarta traffic.
"Where to, Ms. Ela?" he asked, eyes on the rearview mirror.
"Brawijaya Street."
He glanced sideways, a brow arching.
"Oh. The golden mile. From here, you could practically jog there."
A dry laugh escaped me.
"Can you imagine me jogging in this dress and heels? People would think Cinderella was running from a debt collector."
Dio laughed. This time it was full and unrestrained, filling the small cabin. The sound seemed to push back the walls, dissolving the awkward tension instantly.
I stole a glance at him. Streetlights washed over his profile in rhythmic intervals of orange and shadow. He drove with a relaxed confidence, one hand resting easy on the wheel. There was no showing off, no aggressive lane changes.
Silence settled between us again. But unlike the suffocating vacuum in Rei’s luxury sedan, this silence felt breathable. It was a companionable quiet.
Fifteen minutes later, the white hatchback pulled up to the imposing black gates of my house. The structure loomed against the night sky, looking less like a home and more like a fortress designed to keep happiness out.
"Thank you, Mr. Dio," I said, unclicking my seatbelt. The sound was loud in the quiet car.
"I’m sorry for dragging you into my drama."
Dio turned. The dashboard lights cast a soft glow on his face.
"Not a problem. Lyra was happy to have a study buddy."
His eyes dropped to the jacket again.
"Keep it for tonight. Return it at school tomorrow. You’re shivering."
"O-okay. Thank you."
I stepped out. The humid night air tried to cling to my skin, but the denim armor held it at bay.
I stood on the sidewalk, watching the taillights of the small white car fade into the distance.
My hand instinctively pulled the collar tighter. The scent of citrus and coffee filled my nose, a stark contrast to the jasmine and old money smell of the house behind me.
"Lyra's Dad..." I murmured.
A smile tugged at my lips, unbidden and stubborn.
Then I turned around. The smile vanished. The gates towered over me.
Inhale. Enter hell.
CLICK.
The front door swung open. The temperature dropped ten degrees instantly. Not from the AC, but from the two figures waiting in the living room.
Mother stood with her arms crossed, her posture rigid as a statue. Her face was a mask of disappointment. Father sat on the plush sofa, massaging his temples, refusing to look up.
"Elara," Mother’s voice was low, vibrating with suppressed rage.
"I am beyond disappointed. How could you humiliate this family in front of Rei?"
I closed the door softly behind me, leaning back against the wood for support.
"I just asked to get out, Mom. Rei is the one making it a tragedy."
"Excuses!" she snapped.
"Do you understand the value of the Darvian connection? You are sabotaging the only lifeline we have! Look at your sister—are you trying to follow her path and become another ungrateful child?"
My fists clenched inside the sleeves of the oversized jacket. The denim felt rough against my palms, grounding me.
"Mom, I’m sorry. I’m tired. I’m going to bed."
I walked past them toward the stairs. I could feel her glare burning two holes between my shoulder blades.
"Rafli! Look at your daughter! Say something!" she shrieked.
Father just let out a long, defeated sigh. Silence was his only contribution.
I quickened my pace, reached my room, and turned the lock.
CLICK.
Sanctuary.
I walked to the vanity mirror. The woman staring back looked exhausted. Her makeup was smudged, her hair windblown. But she was wearing a men's denim jacket that was three sizes too big.
And there was a ghost of a smile on her face.
I touched the collar again. The echo of Dio’s laugh in the car seemed to drown out the screaming downstairs.
"Who knew..." I whispered to the reflection.
"A disaster of a night could end with a safety net."
• • •
The next morning.
The sun was blazing, but the world felt strangely cool.
I walked through the school gates with a bounce in my step that shouldn't have been there on a Tuesday. The usual weight on my shoulders felt lighter.
"Morning, Ms. Ela!"
"Morning, sweetie! Have a great day!"
I was reaching for the handle of the staff room door when a hand clamped onto my arm like a vice.
YOINK.
I stumbled, turning sharply.
Saskia stood there. Her eyes were narrowed into slits, scanning me from head to toe like a TSA agent looking for contraband.
"Kia? What gives?"
"Something is wrong," she muttered. She tilted her head to the left, then the right.
"Very wrong."
I blinked.
"What? Is my uniform on backward?"
"No." Saskia took a step closer, poking my cheek with a manicured finger.
"
Usually, after a 'Family Event', you come in looking like a zombie who forgot to be buried. Gray. Gloomy. Negative vibes."
She crossed her arms.
"But this morning... you’re glowing. It’s suspicious. Did you eat a lightbulb for breakfast?"
A laugh bubbled up from my chest. I covered my mouth, trying not to cackle in the hallway.
"You’re crazy. It’s just your imagination."
"Nope." Saskia shook her head firmly. Her gossip radar was legendary for a reason.
"The vibe is different, Elara. This is the vibe of... someone who has a crush."
THUMP.
My heart did a traitorous little flip.
"Hah? What? No way!" I denied it, my voice pitching up way too high. Heat flooded my cheeks.
Saskia’s eyes went wide.
"AHA! THE BLUSH! I KNEW IT! Who is it, Ela? Who? Don't tell me it’s that Rei guy?"
"No!"
"Then who?" Saskia cornered me against the wall.
"Spill the tea or I will announce it over the PA system."
"Nobody, Saskia! You watch too many dramas!"
Saskia opened her mouth for round two of the interrogation, but a high-pitched voice saved me.
"Ms. Elaaaa!"
We both turned.
Lyra was sprinting from the parking lot. Her pigtails bounced with every step, her pink backpack thumping against her spine. She looked like a bottle of concentrated sunshine.
"Lyra!" I crouched down, opening my arms just in time to catch her.
The little girl pulled back, pointing toward the school gate.
"Teacher, look! Daddy walked me to the gate today!"
I looked up.
There, standing just outside the iron bars, was Dio. He was wearing a navy polo shirt that hugged his frame, looking casual yet effortlessly put together.
Our eyes met across the courtyard.
Time seemed to stutter.
Dio smiled. It was the same smile from the car. He raised his right hand, giving me a small, gentle wave.
My hand moved on its own. I waved back, my movements stiff but enthusiastic. My smile widened until my cheeks hurt.
Dio nodded politely, then turned and walked toward his white car.
I was still smiling at his retreating back when the devil whispered in my right ear.
"Well... well... well..."
Saskia was leaning on my shoulder. Her mouth was agape, her eyes sparkling with malicious delight.
"What kind of soap opera slow-motion wave was that, hmm?"
I froze.
"That... that was just a polite greeting to a parent!" I stammered.
Saskia grinned, looking like a shark that smelled blood.
"A parent, huh? Then why does your face look like a boiled lobster?"
- Writer
