Kidnapping the General's Daughter

CHAPTER 23: The Weight of Her Silence

Jakarta

Two weeks had passed since the painful goodbyes in Bali, and life in Jakarta had resumed its relentless, noisy pace. Barra was back on campus, but his heart remained adrift. He was physically present in lectures, but his mind was a battlefield of "what-ifs." He knew that for now, the only logical move was to wait—to push through until graduation before they could fight for their future again.

But since that heartbreaking goodbye at the airport, Alma had vanished as if swallowed by the earth. She was unreachable. Her phone was dead, and she hadn't stepped foot on campus. Her classmates only knew that she was still on "extended leave." Barra’s nights were restless, haunted by the image of her locked away in her father’s house, or worse—being pressured into a life, or a marriage, she never wanted. He shook his head violently to dispel the thought.

Barra snapped his laptop shut and hurried to the parking lot. He needed to be near her, even if it meant just staring at the gates of her house from across the street. He just wanted her to know he was still there, still waiting.

"Barra!"

A voice cut through the roar of the afternoon traffic. He turned to see Erin, Alma’s closest friend, rolling down her car window.

"Hey, heading home?" Barra asked, trying to sound casual as he hopped onto his motorcycle.

"Alma’s coming to campus tomorrow," Erin said, her voice dropping.

The words acted like an electric shock. Barra immediately killed his engine. "Really? Did she call you?"

"The lecturer told us. You still can't reach her directly, Bar. Everything goes through her guards now."

A surge of relief washed over him, his eyes finally lighting up with a flicker of hope.

***

Barra checked his watch again. He had been waiting at the park near the Faculty of Medicine entrance for nearly two hours. Erin said she’d be there by ten, but lunch hour was fast approaching and there was no sign of her. Maybe she’s not coming, he thought, his anxiety peaking.

Suddenly, a black sedan with military plates pulled up. Barra’s heart hammered against his ribs. Two guards stepped out—one of whom Barra recognized from the lodge—and opened the rear door.

Alma stepped out, her head bowed. Her hair fell forward, partially obscuring her face, as if she were trying to hide from the very world she lived in.

Barra stood up, moving toward her instinctively. "Alma!"

He tried to get closer, but the massive frame of her guard blocked his path like a stone wall. Alma stopped for a split second. She looked at him, but her eyes were hollow—void of smiles, void of the spark he loved. Without a word, she turned and continued walking, leaving him standing in the dust.

Barra froze. He watched her figure disappear into the building, his mind spinning. What happened? Why is she so cold? Has she finally given up?  He dragged his feet back to his bike, his heart feeling like it had been shredded.

***

That night, in the stifling silence of his room, the air felt too thick to breathe. Barra stared at his glowing laptop screen with vacant eyes. The lecture notes blurred into images of Alma’s face from that morning—the sadness, the empty gaze, the heavy footsteps.