Patience Heart

Viola

My name is Viola, Viola Anindita Schultz this is my story. I'm 29 years old, though I guess I'm no longer a girl at this point. I live in the sprawling metropolis of Jakarta, the bustling capital city of Indonesia. I'm not fully Asian—my mother is Indonesian, and my father is German. I'm their only child, a product of a love that once seemed unbreakable but eventually shattered into pieces.

My parents divorced when I was in high school. It wasn't an amicable split. My dad cheated on my mom with some young girl he met at a club. I was too young to fully grasp what was happening, but old enough to feel the sting of betrayal. My dad moved on quickly, marrying another woman—not the one he had the affair with, but someone else entirely. He has two stepchildren now, but I don't care about them. We don't have any sort of relationship, and honestly, I'm fine with that.

My mom, on the other hand, never remarried. She tells everyone she loves being single, but I think it's more than that. I think she's just had enough—enough of love, enough of heartbreak, enough of men like my father. She's built a life for herself, independent and strong, and maybe that's the path I'll end up taking too.

Physically, I'm stuck somewhere between skinny and curvy. I'm not overweight, but I'm not the kind of woman who can effortlessly slip into a size 27 pair of jeans either. Sometimes, I feel like I'm too big, especially when I can't wear the clothes I want. My chest is flat, and V-neck shirts are a no-go—they just don't look good on me. No curves. It's frustrating. I even tried exercising to make my breasts bigger, but all I ended up with were broad shoulders. Just my luck.

My face? It's standard biracial. I've been told I'm pretty, but I know I'm not strikingly beautiful. I'm not ugly either. I guess I'm somewhere in the middle, just like everything else in my life.

Right now, I'm stuck in a relationship with a man I don't love. His name is Adam. He's a nice guy, and he loves me deeply. But no matter how hard I try, I can't force my heart to feel the same way. We've been together for almost a year, and lately, my family has started pushing for us to take the next step—marriage.

They seem to think that because I'm 29, I should be settling down, getting married, having children. Like it's some sort of universal law that a woman my age should be a wife and mother. But here's the thing: I'm not ready for that. I still want to live my life. I want to travel, see the world, experience things I haven't had the chance to yet. I can't imagine tying myself down to a man I'm not even comfortable being around.

How am I supposed to marry someone I don't even like being near? Every time Adam touches me, I cringe inside. I don't like it, I don't like him—at least, not in that way. How could I ever spend the rest of my life with him?

The truth is, if I knew things would turn out this way, I never would have agreed to be his girlfriend in the first place. But back then, I was lonely. Brian had left me, and I was drowning in that loneliness. When Adam came into my life, he fought hard for my attention. No matter how many times I pushed him away, he kept coming back. Eventually, I gave in. I told myself, "What the hell, why not?" So I accepted him. Not because I loved him, but because I was tired of being alone.

I know it was wrong. I knew from the start that I was using Adam to fill the void that Brian left behind. And now, here I am, stuck in a relationship I never really wanted.

If I could, I would run away. I'd pack my bags, leave Jakarta behind, and disappear to some far-off place where no one knows me. I've had enough of this life, of the expectations, the pressure, the constant feeling that I'm living someone else's dream.

"Yes!" The thought strikes me suddenly, and for the first time in a long time, I feel a spark of excitement. I'll pack my bags today, book a one-way ticket to New York, and just go. Start over in a city that doesn't care who I am or where I come from.

"New York, here I come!" I whisper to myself, feeling a sense of freedom wash over me. For the first time in years, I feel like I have a choice. Like I'm in control of my life again.

But even as I start to plan my escape, there's a part of me that hesitates. A part of me that wonders if I'm running away from something or towards something. Am I chasing freedom, or am I just trying to escape the emptiness that has been gnawing at me ever since Brian left?

Brian. His name still brings a pang of sadness to my heart. It's been years, but I can't shake the memories. The way he made me feel alive, the way he understood me in a way no one else ever has. I thought he was the one. I thought we had a future together. But life had other plans.

Now, I'm left with Adam. Adam, who loves me unconditionally, but who I can't love in return. Adam, who wants to build a life with me, but who doesn't realize that I'm still stuck in the past, still holding on to a love that's long gone.

My family doesn't understand. They see Adam as the perfect man for me—kind, stable, responsible. They think I should be grateful to have someone like him in my life. But they don't see what I see. They don't feel what I feel. The emptiness, the disconnect, the overwhelming desire to be anywhere but here.

As I stare at my suitcase, half-packed and waiting for a decision, I realize that I'm at a crossroads. I can either continue down this path, living a life that isn't truly mine, or I can take a leap of faith and start over. It's terrifying, but the thought of staying where I am, of marrying Adam and settling into a life of quiet desperation, is even more frightening.

I don't know what the future holds, but I do know one thing: I can't keep living like this. I can't keep pretending to be someone I'm not. I need to find myself again, to rediscover the person I was before all of this happened. And maybe, just maybe, New York will be the place where I can finally do that.

So, with a deep breath and a sense of determination, I close my suitcase and make my decision. It's time to leave. It's time to find out who I really am, without the expectations, without the pressure, without the ghosts of the past haunting me.