REDAMANCY - Love's Timeless Path

22nd Note

Raindrops pelted my car window, reflecting the tempest that was rising within me. It annoyed me that it always seems to be raining in Jakarta when I'm having problems. It was unbelievable that after hearing all sorts of terrible news regarding Haira, the weather became gloomy this evening.

I punched the steering wheel to let out all of my pent-up rage. My hands trembled. I must expressed my gratitude for my previous surgery since it helped to bring me back to the ground and let me realize that there were other things on my mind besides the question about the man who hugged Haira this afternoon.

I turned my car into one of the apartments in the Senayan area. Parked my car in the basement and pressed the elevator button to reach my destination floor.

Not long after, I found myself at Kak Jini's — my sister's — doorstep. I might not be that close with her, but she was the only sibling I had and the one who knew me the best.

I could smell the aroma of freshly baked cookies, and the warm glow of her apartment lights welcomed me as I stepped into her cozy haven. The Jakarta cityscape sprawled beneath us; a million tiny lights seem to replace the stars swallowed by the rain.

"Have you eaten?" My older sister asked as she took off her apron and folded it before hanging it on the back of her dining chair. I chose not to answer and curled up on her plush couch as the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain a soothing lullaby.

Even though Kak Jini always annoyed me when I remembered that she didn't want to continue Papa's business, I always loved her and was happy to carry out my role as a younger sibling who wanted to be a doctor and successor to the Dinata family business. Oh, if you were wondering what our family business is, we were the largest pharmaceutical distributor in Indonesia. And my beloved sister decided to become a professional model. No, my family wasn't angry with her; they always said that maybe in the future our family would have a fashion brand other than a distributor business.

"Dek."

"Hmm."

"What's wrong?" She sat down next to me before asking her smart home device to play jazz songs from Papa's playlist. Yes, maybe if Papa hadn't been a businessman, he would have been a jazz musician.

"Did you fight with Haira?" She asked again.

I nodded. "It feels like I'm going to die." I poured out my heart dramatically, making her pat my thigh lightly.

"Why? Penny to your thoughts?"

I immediately sat up straight and began to tell what my fears were — the fight, the guilt, the fear of losing Haira. How she actually brought the usual suspects: mismatched expectations, a sprinkle of defensiveness, and a dash of miscommunication.

Rajini Dinata, ever the patient listener, let me rant without interruption. She listened patiently, her occasional hum the only soundtrack to the chirping crickets. Yet as soon as I was done, a powerful yet soft hand grabbed my shoulder.

"Look," she finally said, setting down her teacup, "relationships are messy. It's not always butterflies and rainbows, you know? But here's the thing," her voice soft but firm, "the messiness doesn't have to define you. It's all about how you handle it."

I snorted. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"Well," she continued, her voice laced with concern, "the first thing to remember is that arguments are normal. They're a sign that you care, that you're invested enough to actually voice your opinions. But yeah, how you argue makes all the difference. Haira loves you. But love thrives on trust, remember?" She paused, taking another sip of her tea. "It's not about the missed lunch,"

I groaned before covering my face with the pillow. Cursing myself from behind the soft thing.

Her words stunned me, echoing the nagging guilt in my chest. The forgotten lunch, though unintentional, had chipped away at the foundation of trust we'd built. She saw my regret and softened her tone.

"Relationships are like building a house; you remember how Mama always taught us that relationships are like houses? How we build the foundation is the most fundamental thing. Communication, honesty, and respect — those are the basics, the foundation. But sometimes people like to forget."

"If I forget the basics and everything falls apart, what should I do?"

Her smile faltered slightly. "That's where maturity comes in," she said, her voice turning serious. "It's about understanding that your partner is a whole person, with their own problems and fears of their own. It's about listening, not just waiting for your turn to speak. And it's about finding common ground, even when the paths diverge." She continued, "It's about the fear it ignited in her. The fear that you, like everyone else, or any other man, could be because you're bored because you've been dating for a long time, or whatever. "

"Kak." I looked at my only sister. "If Haira asked me to marry her right now, I wouldn't think twice, let alone twice, not even half; I would marry her right away. But she couldn't." I could hear how desperate my voice was when I expressed my concern.

"Yeah, I know, and shouldn't you be the person who is most certain to stick by her side? Instead of making her even more insecure about marriage?" Kak Jini crossed her arms. "If you don't want to be honest with her, it's the same as putting you in the position of someone who makes her lose trust too, Jen."

That hit me like a bolt of lightning. Haira, vibrant and passionate, yearned to be seen beyond her family's expectations, which shrouded her like a suffocating cloak. And I, caught up in my own worries, had failed to see it. A wave of heated and prickly shame swept over me when I realized this was too late.

"So, what should I do?" I asked, feeling lost and helpless.

She smiled with a knowing glint in her eyes. "You know what you have to do, right? Give her space to get better and, above all, an explanation and an apology. You have been dishonest to her twice. She believes that you lied to her on purpose, even though I'm not saying you deliberately lied to her. Thus, Jen, I don't see anything wrong with giving her some space and time first."

"But what if she doesn't want to listen, even after I give her time?" I asked, a flicker of frustration returning.

"Focus on your own plot, Jen. You can't control the other side, but you can control how you respond. How you act. And how the actions you choose can persuade other people. In this case, make Haira forgive you."

I nodded. "I'm still shocked at how she accused me of having a relationship with Rara. I don't have any special feelings for her, Kak. We're just friends. That's all." I held my tongue. "Well, she used to like me, but that was a long time ago."

She looked at me with a surprised look. "Did Rara ever like you?"

"Yeah..."

"I mean, like romantically?"

I shrugged my shoulders, "well, yeah."

She let out a quiet sigh. "It's natural that Haira seems to be overreacting like that, Jen. She is a woman after all, she can definitely feel what happened between you and Rara."

"Jagad said that too."

"Definitely, especially since he felt the most about how Giandra's ex almost ruined their relationship."

I grinned.

The rain had stopped, leaving behind a cool, refreshing scent. The air made even the most mundane conversations feel profound.

She gave me a gentle back pat and then took another sip of her tea. "Remember, Jen, relationships aren't about finding the perfect person. It's about creating something perfect with the person you have. And also keep in mind that relationships are journeys, not destinations," she murmured. "There will be storms, detours, and unexpected potholes. But if you navigate them together, with respect and understanding, you'll reach a beautiful vista you wouldn't have found alone."