The descent into Soekarno-Hatta International Airport always felt like a homecoming for the soul, even if the body was weary from crossing every meridian on the global map. As the aircraft banked over the Java Sea, the vast, shimmering expanse of the water gave way to the sprawling, vibrant tapestry of Jakarta. From the window, Hana Wijaya-Raka watched the city emerge through the morning haze—a chaotic, magnificent masterpiece of concrete, greenery, and shimmering glass. It was a stark contrast to the clinical, engineered perfection of Singapore or the pale, historic stone of London. Jakarta was raw energy, a place that didn't just exist but breathed, pulsed, and occasionally roared.
Beside her, Ethan Raka was unusually still. His tablet lay dark on his lap, and his gaze was fixed on the
