One Week Ago
I was working overtime that night to revise some documents. Honestly, I wasn't in the mood, but hey—money is money. If not for the paycheck, I would've bolted hours ago.
The wall clock read 7 PM. The office was dead silent. Everyone else had gone home. And me? Still here like some unpaid ghost. I didn't even know why I volunteered to stay late. The task could've easily waited until morning.
Maybe because my heart was a mess.
My fiancé hadn't contacted me since yesterday. He said he was going home for a few days—something about taking time off work. Guess what he does for a living?
We met a year ago. I was twenty-seven. He proposed eight months after we got close. So yeah, we've only been engaged for three months.
Funny thing—we never met in real life. We met on Instagram. He slid into my DMs just as I was reeling from a nasty breakup. I replied out of boredom. We clicked. One chat led to another, and before I knew it—we were engaged.
Marriage? It came up once. A vague conversation that felt more like a formality. Since then, he always dodged the topic. Like he was hiding something.
To be honest, I was the one who pushed for the engagement. Just to get my parents—especially my mom—off my back. But lately, I've started to wonder… maybe he never planned to marry me at all.
My head was spinning. What if he's just like my ex? Maybe betrayal is just embedded in every man's DNA. Still, I tried to stay calm. Maybe he really was busy helping his parents.
I stood and stretched. My back screamed from hours of sitting. After regaining some energy, I shut down my computer, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the office.
The hallway was eerily quiet. I hadn't checked my phone all day, so I pulled it out and skimmed through the notifications. One message stood out: a DM from someone I didn't know.
"Good evening. I'd like to ask… do you know someone named Bima Satrya?"
My heart skipped. The sender's name: Rani Kusumawati. Who the hell was she? And why was she asking about my fiancé?
Yes, Bima Satrya was my fiancé. He wasn't from this city—his job moved him around a lot, even between provinces.
Suddenly, goosebumps. I didn't know if it was the DM or the dead silence of the hallway, but a chill crept down my spine.
I replied.
"Yes, I do. He's my fiancé. Why are you asking? Do you know him?"
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated. But I didn't read it right away. I kept walking to the lobby. The lights were bright, but fear clung to me like static. For all I knew, some ghost might be curious about my DMs too.
Once I reached the lobby, I opened the message.
"Since when have you been engaged to him? I'm his fiancée too. His future wife. And right now, I'm carrying his child."
Boom.
Time stopped. My heart shattered like a weak Wi-Fi signal in the middle of a forest.
Seriously?
The man who put a ring on my finger… had put one on someone else's too? And gotten her pregnant?
My hands trembled. I nearly dropped my phone. The lobby felt like it was caving in. The air conditioner, once a soft hum, now roared like hell's fanfare.
Then she sent more.
First, a photo of a pregnancy test.
Second, an ultrasound.
Third, a family engagement photo—with his entire extended family. Smiling. Celebrating. Without me.
No wonder he never introduced me to his family. Because he never planned to. Because I was never part of the real plan.
But what broke me wasn't just the betrayal—it was her final message.
"Please, I'm asking you to step away from Bima. Let us raise this child together and live in peace.
Because the truth is… you're the other woman. Not the victim."
I froze.
I wanted to laugh, but all that came out was a ragged breath.
So this is my role? The side character in someone else's love story?
Hilarious. I signed up to be someone's fiancée, but turns out I got cast as the homewrecker—for free. Thank you, universe. Really. Not sure how I'm supposed to be grateful for this.
~~~
It's been a week since that hellish night.
I haven't said a single word to Bima. He hasn't offered a single explanation either. But honestly? I've been too busy to care about people like him.
TING.
Just finished lunch. My phone lit up. Name on the screen: Bima.
"Dek, we need to talk today. You've been acting weird and ignoring my texts. I'm back in town. Let's meet at our usual café after work. I'll be waiting. See you, my love."
Ck.
The words my love now felt like a rusty spoon scraping a chalkboard.
I had to meet him. Not for closure. But to end it. For real. With my head held high and my sanity intact.
"Fine. I'll see you at the café."
Short. Sharp. Like a sentence being passed.
It's funny, isn't it? That nickname used to make me blush. Now it feels like a curse. It's disgusting to realize I have memories with someone like him.
Before I could gather my thoughts, my phone pinged again.
TING.
Another message. This time—from Rani.
"I'm in the same city now. Can we meet today?"
Oh. So the real leading lady has arrived.
I stared at the screen for a long moment. My breath hitched. My hands clenched—but my heart wanted only one thing: closure.
And I was going to get it. On my terms.
"Come to XX Café. 5 PM."
She agreed without hesitation.
Good.
Today will be the final chapter of this engagement saga.
And I'll be the one writing the ending.
Not a side character.
The author.
~~~
My head was a noisy mess. But my steps? Steady. Determined. Nothing could stop me from doing what I came here to do.
After work, I headed straight to the usual café. Bima was already there—sitting calmly, as always, with a cup of hot unsweetened tea in front of him.
Typical. Quiet guy vibe, but secretly hiding a whole category 5 disaster.
He stood up when he saw me and pulled out a chair. Acting all gentlemanly. If this were a month ago, I might've blushed like a schoolgirl. Now? I just wanted to throw my iced coffee in his face and say, "Your charming act? Expired, bro."
Instead of taking the seat he offered, I sat next to him.
Let him wonder. Let him guess. Let this feel like a primetime soap opera.
He looked confused. Probably thinking, "What's up with her?"
Short answer: I'm pissed, jerk.
He sat back down across from me, slowly reaching for my hand. I slapped it away like I was playing defense in a volleyball match.
"Babe, what's wrong? You've been ignoring me all day."
I let out a long, exhausted sigh. So deep, even my lungs filed a complaint.
This relationship? Fast food. Quick, fake, and now it's making me sick.
"There's something I need to say," I said flatly.
"Why so formal all of a sudden? You never talk to me like this."
Great. Today's my red day. Full of cramps and regrets. My mood? Peak K-drama meltdown.
"I'm honestly disgusted calling you 'babe'. You're not my 'abang'. And I'm definitely not your 'adek'."
His eyes widened like he'd just found out crypto crashed.
"Cayra, why are you being like this?"
"Shut it. Call me Cayra, or I'm walking out of here."
He nodded. Quiet. Probably processing the emotional meteorite I just threw.
"Okay… Cayra. What's going on? Why are you mad?"
I inhaled slowly, then took off the engagement ring and placed it gently on the table. A silent, beautiful symbol of complete destruction.
"I want to end our engagement."
Bima paled. Probably just realized this wasn't some TikTok prank.
"Why? What did I do wrong, Cayra?"
That question? Hilarious. Right up there with 'Why is ice cold?'
"You never introduced me to your family. You never even talked about our future. This engagement was just to make my family happy, wasn't it?"
He stayed quiet. Like his brain tried to form an excuse—and failed.
"I tried, Cayra. But my family didn't approve."
Of course they didn't. Because he already had another fiancée, right? This isn't a Turkish drama, this is Indonesia.
"I don't care. We're done."
"Can you at least give me a better reason?"
"Oh sure. You're a liar. You're not serious. You fed me sweet promises like some PayLater promo—sounds great until the bill hits."
Silence.
"Let's stop wasting time. Let's just end it."
And then, out of nowhere, he dropped this gem:
"We can still get married. Just… do a private marriage first. Nikah siri. You know how complicated it is with my job and all."
BAM.
I slammed the table. People turned. I didn't care. Let them witness real-life drama.
"You think I'm that cheap? A secret marriage? That's your solution? You think I'm a background character in a mid-morning soap?"
"At least you'll be my wife, and your parents won't pressure you anymore, right?"
Pathetic. Still, laughable.
"I'd rather hire a contract husband than secretly marry a coward like you."
"You're calling me a coward?"
"Oh, you just figured that out? Want me to send you the audio clip of you suggesting nikah siri just now?"
Still angry. But I wasn't done.
"A real man doesn't offer a hidden marriage. He finds a way to make things right—no matter how hard it is."
He started blaming his job. Transfers. Company policy.
"If you come with me, Cayra, you'd have to quit your job."
"Oh, gladly. But under one condition. I handle your entire paycheck."
"What? Half of it goes to my parents and personal needs!"
"Yeah, well, those are my business now. I take the money. You get the stress."
"But… I'm the one working. Why would you hold my salary?"
Now came the final blow.
"My salary's higher than yours. So even if I quit, why would I settle for a husband who earns less—and acts like he's doing me a favor?"
I'm not materialistic. But I'm also not an angel who can survive on love and good intentions. If you're average-looking and stingy, the least you can do is have decent behavior.
The café fell silent. Outside, the clouds gathered like a scene-stealing metaphor.
I was just about to breathe again… when a shadow loomed at our table.
A woman.
Hair tied back, face pale, but eyes steady.
"Mas Bima…"
Her voice was soft. But it made the air freeze. Bima stood up immediately, eyes wide.
"Rani?"
Rani. The woman from my DMs. The one carrying his child.
There she was. In the flesh. My stomach twisted. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Seeing the live-action version of a betrayal hit differently.
She looked at me. I looked back. No words. But in that three-second stare, we both understood who broke harder.
Three seconds. That's all it took to realize: I was stronger. I was more ready to walk away. I was more whole.
And weirdly, I felt like I'd won. Not by much. But enough.
"I'm sorry, Mbak Cayra," she said. "I didn't know Bima was engaged. I thought… I was the only one."
Too late. But I appreciated the effort.
Bima stood there. Trapped between two women who both once loved him—and would both be idiots to stay.
I stood up and looked at them both.
"This engagement is over, Bima."
Then I turned to Rani, gentler now.
"I hope you two are happy—with your child."
"Go ahead. Continue your little soap opera. I'm walking out of this episode."
And I walked away. Not as a victim—but as a woman who finally remembered her worth.
From behind me, I heard Rani whisper, like the closing line of a drama:
"It's okay, Mas. Let her go. We'll be happy with this child."
My steps didn't falter. Not on the outside. I still looked strong. Even if inside, I was picking up the shattered pieces of my dignity one by one.
The sky grew darker. But the rain hadn't come yet. So I could still walk like a strong woman down the sidewalk.
God, I wanted to scream. But pride kept my mouth shut. People were watching. People still believed I was unbreakable.
Why does love always betray me?
I'm pretty. People say I look like Kim Sejeong. Seriously, who leaves a woman who looks like a K-pop idol?
Behind the mirror of strength, I knew I was fragile. But I also knew—I wasn't alone.
Because behind every scar, hope still breathes.
And maybe... love wasn't punishing me.
Maybe the universe was just clearing the wrong one out of the way—
…so the right one could finally come.
~~~
EPILOGUE ✨
That same evening, I walked slowly along the sidewalk.
The evening sky looked gloomy, as if mourning my love life that always ended in tragedy.
In silence, I wondered —
What is it about me that's never enough?
Why does every man I love end up loving someone else?
My thoughts scattered when raindrops began to fall.
Panic kicked in, and I quickened my pace.
Luckily, a bus shelter was nearby.
I rushed in and stood still, staring blankly at the road now glistening with puddles.
Part of my blouse was soaked.
My hair, a mess.
My work bag was waterproof, thankfully.
But my overall look?
A disaster.
I sighed deeply.
Freshly heartbroken and now rained on —
My life really is the ultimate combo: tragic and pathetic.
All that's missing is background music to complete the drama.
The shelter was almost empty.
Most people had already gone — to wherever people with better luck go.
I sat down, eyes vacant, letting my thoughts wander once more.
The sky kept darkening.
But I stayed, unmoving.
Ten minutes passed.
The rain refused to stop.
I finally stood up, ready to go home even if it meant getting drenched.
That's when I heard it —
The sound of something falling.
Near the bench,
a black umbrella lay on the ground.
Abandoned.
I bent down to pick it up.
No one else was around.
The shelter was silent.
Whose umbrella was this?
As I gripped the handle, I noticed a tiny sticker.
A cartoonish face — nerdy glasses, awkward smile.
It looked strangely familiar.
That emoji…
It reminded me of someone.
Someone from high school.
Someone I once left behind.
Someone I hadn't heard from in years.
I looked around.
Still empty.
Only the sound of rain kept me company.
But somehow, I felt...
like this umbrella had been left here for me.
I opened it.
The rain kept pouring.
But this time, I walked forward —
shielded by something foreign, yet oddly familiar.
This wasn't just an umbrella.
It felt like a message.
A silent nudge from the universe.
Underneath the black canopy,
the world seemed a little quieter.
Almost like the sky was whispering,
"That's enough tears. It's time to move on."
My heart filled with questions.
About the past.
About coincidences.
And about one small emoji that suddenly unlocked a thousand memories.
Maybe this isn't the end.
Maybe — just maybe —
this is the quiet beginning the universe slipped into my overly dramatic midlife chapter.
My ex-fiancé has a fiancée.
It hurts.
But strangely...
it also feels like closure.
And this time?
I just hope the guy holding the umbrella
isn't another walking red flag.
Because honestly...
a part of me is starting to wonder—
Was this really just coincidence?
Or is someone from my past… slowly finding their way back?