Year 2023
I thought I’d be done crying after a year, but the tears still fall, and I know there will be more in the years to come. Loving someone on your own is hard, but I don’t know who to blame. Maybe it’s just me—too naive, too trusting of all his sweet words and kind gestures. It was just a passing fling, Aldo. It’s easier to blame myself, even though I’m the one who carried the weight of the breakup. Oh God, I was only 21 when it all happened, and now, a year later, I’m 22 and about to graduate.
“Priska, I bought some brownies earlier. I put them in the fridge, okay? Don’t stay up too late, your classes are over, right? Take it easy and get some rest,” Dara called out from behind the door.
“Yeah, Sis. Thanks.” 
I wiped my tears, trying to sound like I hadn’t been crying. But Dara and Satria’s kindness only made me feel worse about wasting the opportunities they gave me. They’ve kept me going, helping with tuition and living expenses. I owe them more than I could ever repay.
“I’m off to bed, I’m getting sleepy,” Dara said, saying goodnight. 
“Good night, Sis!” 
As Dara’s footsteps faded, I pulled the blanket tighter around me. She’s a pediatrician, just 31 years old, with a heart as kind as an angel’s. Dara and Satria got married not long after I moved in, after I was scammed by a fake rental agreement. Now, Dara is pregnant and due to give birth soon.
One reason they got married was to take care of me. They were worried about me and my fragile mental state being out there alone. Besides, they were at an age where starting a family made sense. So, I’ve been able to stay here under their watchful eyes, both medically and emotionally.
I’m so grateful to have them as my siblings, selfless friends, and the parents I never had. An orphan like me, what more could I hope for? Just being alive is a blessing. My favorite food is considered cheap by most people. It’s just chicken noodles—whether they’re good or bad, I can still eat them.
Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have made it through school. They’ve seen me at my worst, wanting to end it all or waking up in tears from nightmares about the trauma of being raped. Honestly, a part of me died inside; the cheerful, optimistic Priska is gone. Now, I’m just Priska, full of anger. How could I not be? The man I loved took everything from me, and he never loved me back.
I can still clearly remember the words of the man who hurt me so deeply—Aldo, cruel and heartless, who seduced me with his sweet lies. He made me lose faith in love and in men, except for Satria Pamungkas. I still hear him, that bespectacled man, arrogantly saying, “Does being a virgin even matter these days? You can have fun with the money we gave you; no one’s losing out.”
The anger fills me up as I try to close my eyes, hoping not to dream about him. I’ll never forgive them, especially him. Revaldo Aditya, that bastard, who used his good looks and sharp mind for his own gain. Let God punish me for holding onto this grudge so tightly—I don’t care. I want Aldo and Indra to suffer.
***
“He’s so handsome, Pris,” Faby said. 
She showed me the pre-wedding photos and the wedding ceremony between Aldo and Giska. I barely glanced at my friend’s phone. Faby is one of those who idolize that jerk of a journalist; if only people knew how awful Aldo really is. But I can’t just talk recklessly—I have no proof, and as the victim, I’m too ashamed to admit it. How could I ever face anyone if I confessed to spending a night with Aldo, falling for all his sweet lies? Now I get what they mean when they say logic dies when a woman falls in love.
“So what?” I muttered, turning back to the job application letter I was writing at Faby’s desk. She owns a newly opened book café.
Unlike Faby, who lives comfortably and doesn’t have to worry about much, I have to fight for a job. She got married right after graduation and her parents gave her the green light to start her book café business. 
“The ceremony is at your church, Pris. And their wedding reception is at that fancy H&I Hotel Ballroom,” Faby went on.
I stayed silent, not responding. Why should I care? Seeing the flood of photos on his social media just made me sad. Whether it was from guests tagging him or the couple sharing their happiness, or even the official wedding organizer’s posts, it all made me so angry. Yes, I’m insanely jealous of their wedding. Why wasn’t it me? After all the hurt, it’s strange that I still feel a pang of jealousy towards Aldo and Giska. But it’s not my fault for falling in love with him.
“Hey, Pris, do you want to tutor Farel? My aunt asked me to find a patient tutor for that naughty kid, and I don’t know where else to look. You’re the most patient, calm person I know.” Faby smiled broadly.
“Seriously?” I asked, hardly believing it.
It felt like a breath of fresh air. As someone unemployed, with no connections and not much of a background, I’m ready to take any honest job. If you’re wondering which university I graduated from—yes, I’m an alumna of that university with the yellow jacket, supposedly the top state university in the country—but there are many people smarter and with better opportunities than me.
Besides, I haven’t found a steady job, and I feel bad about continuing to take money from doctor Satria and doctor Dara. I need to start earning my own money and, if possible, repay their kindness before I die. Believe me, I think about death more often than the people I know. I hate myself and this pathetic life.
“Yes, because you’re smart and patient, Pris. I’m sure you can handle Farel’s antics. The pay’s pretty good too. If you think it’s not enough, I can talk to my aunt.” 
“Okay, I’ll do it, Fab.” 
“There you go! That’s the spirit!”
For the next hour, I kept busy helping out at the café, serving customers who ordered snacks or borrowed books. A lot of high school or college students come here just to take pictures with Faby’s aesthetic bookshelves. After they’re done with their photos, they order food and drinks.
Faby can’t pay me much yet, but at least I have something to keep me occupied, so I’m not alone and stressed at home while Satria and Dara are at work. Once my transcript and International Relations degree are out, I’ll work even harder to find a job. Hang in there, Priska! I tell myself. Tomorrow will be better, and I won’t look back. Who cares about love? I just want to live comfortably.