Tara went still for a fraction of a second. There was a different aura radiating from this woman. It wasn't Tami's friendliness, Dina's sharp tongue, or Nisa's simplicity. Elvira... she felt heavy.
"Eh, El is the senior here," Tami said with a playful lilt. "She's been haunting this place for three years. She's the one who knows the unwritten rules."
Elvira offered a faint, razor-thin smile. "Relax. The girls here talk too much, but you'll develop an immunity soon enough."
Tara nodded, feeling a mix of relief and awkwardness. She stood there for a moment, eyes drifting to the food rack in the corner of the kitchen, cluttered with instant noodle packs, coffee sachets, and a few tins of sardines. She hesitated, her hand hovering as she considered reaching for something.
Elvira noticed, gesturing toward the rack with her spoon. "If there's no name on it, take it. Don't overthink. We restock whatever we can here. If you want to contribute later, just help out—buy some noodles, coffee, rice, milk. Keep it simple. That way, when you're broke, you can still eat."
"Oh..." Tara nodded quickly, relieved by the simple survival pact.
"True," Dina interjected, taking a sip of her tea. "As long as you don't get fancy. If someone starts making carbonara every day, the whole house will go bankrupt in a week."
"Hey, are you talking about me?" Tami glared.
Laughter broke out, and only then did Tara find the courage to pull a pack of noodles from the rack and begin boiling them.
They ate together. It was just basic instant noodles, but it tasted better than usual, shared in the company of others. Occasionally, Tara stole a glance at Elvira. The woman ate slowly, quietly, rarely joining the jokes. But when Tami made a crack about a nosy neighbor, Elvira suddenly let out a short, hollow laugh—a deep sound that made everyone else laugh along, even if they didn't quite understand the punchline.
After dinner, they tidied up. Tami and Dina bickered over whose turn it was to do the dishes. Nisa excused herself, needing to sleep for an early shift at the boutique.
Vanya rose from her seat, neatly placing her glass aside. "I'm heading back too. Don't forget to pray before you sleep, guys," she said with a pleasant smile that carried the weight of a gentle warning. She walked gracefully into the hallway, her hijab swaying slightly with her movements.
Siska remained seated for a few seconds, staring blankly into her empty bowl. Only after Dina nagged her about the sink did she stand up slowly and whisper, "Thanks." Her voice was so frail it was nearly drowned out by Tami's laughter. Without looking at anyone, Siska shuffled out of the kitchen, her sandals dragging heavily toward her room next to the kitchen.
Tara was left standing awkwardly in the kitchen, unsure of her next move.
"What year are you in? What was your name again... Tara?" Elvira's voice came from behind her.
Tara turned, slightly startled. "Oh, yeah, Tara. I'm... just starting. First semester."
"A fresh one, then." Elvira lit a cigarette, the tip glowing bright for a moment before white smoke drifted into the air. "What are you studying?"
"Economics..." Tara replied.
Elvira nodded, looking largely indifferent. She exhaled a cloud of smoke, her eyes fixed on the small kitchen window. After a brief silence, she spoke again, her voice low. "If anyone bothers you, let me know. The girls here get loud, but no one's actually malicious. Just annoying."
Tara didn't know how to respond. She simply gave a polite nod. There was something about Elvira that was impossible to read: cold, yet strangely protective.
"Go on, get some rest. Tomorrow is a long day," Elvira added.
Tara retreated to her room. On that thin mattress, she tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable spot. But peace eluded her. Her mother's face, the mountain of tuition fees, and Elvira's voice swirled in her mind. For some reason, she felt that the woman was harboring something—a massive story left unsaid.
Before her eyes finally closed, Tara heard a motorcycle pull up at the gate. A faint male voice drifted in, followed by muffled footsteps in the hallway. Elvira's door groaned open, then clicked shut. Silence followed. Tara didn't know who it was, and she didn't want to know. But curiosity had already buried its claws in her mind.
The first morning began with a door slamming and giggles echoing through the hall. Tara jolted awake. She checked her phone: past six. Before she could even take a breath, Dina's voice barked from outside, "Hurry up, Tami! The lecturer will lose it if we're late again!"
Tami's lazy reply followed, "Patience, Din! I'm looking for my socks. You're like a cop, for God's sake!"
Tara pulled her thin blanket up, trying to hide from the morning light creeping through the curtains. But her stomach growled, forcing her up. On her small desk lay a pack of cheap biscuits she'd bought yesterday. She chewed them listlessly while staring at her phone. There was a message from her sister, Dini.
"Kak, school activity fees are due today. 150 thousand. If I don't pay, I can't take the exams. Can I use your money first?"
Tara closed her phone quickly, as if shutting out reality. Her chest tightened. Her bank balance was down to a few hundred thousand; it had to last the month for food and transport. If she paid for her sister, she would have to find extra money from somewhere—anywhere.
She reached for her backpack, opening the small compartment where she kept her wallet. A few folded bills—less than five. Tara stared at them for a long time, then let out a heavy sigh.
A soft knock at the door startled her.
"Ra? You awake?" It was Nisa's gentle voice.
Tara hurriedly wiped her eyes. "Yeah, Nis. What's up?"
"I need a favor." The door creaked open slightly. Nisa appeared in her white uniform and black trousers, hair pulled back simply. "If a courier comes, can you take my package for me? Just keep it in your room so it's safe. I'll grab it when I get back from work." She gave a small smile. "Sorry to bother you. Have you eaten? There's some bread left in the kitchen."
Tara shook her head. "Not yet. Thanks, I'll get it later."
Once Nisa left, Tara finally braved the hallway. The kitchen was empty, save for two slices of plain bread on a plate. She ate them slowly while boiling water for a sachet of coffee.
Suddenly, Elvira appeared, eyes half-asleep, hair flowing loose over an oversized white t-shirt. Without a word, she grabbed a glass, lit a cigarette, and sat at the kitchen table, scratching her head.
"You're up? Heading to campus?" she asked curtly, smoke curling around her words.
"Not yet... class starts at nine, Kak," Tara answered nervously.
Elvira nodded. "You'll get used to it. Raucous in the morning, dead in the afternoon, like a marketplace at night. Everyone has their own drama. Just watch yourself."
Tara looked at her. There was a bitter edge of experience in that sentence, despite the flat delivery.
Elvira looked back, then gave a faint smile. "Relax, Tar. I don't bite. If you need anything, just ask. New kids are usually lost—walking around with that blank look on their faces."
Tara gave a small nod. "Thanks, Kak El."
Elvira chuckled softly. "Don't call me 'Kak'. Makes me feel old."
The conversation died there. Elvira finished her drink, stood up, and left without another word. Tara watched her back until she vanished down the hall. There was something strange yet grounding about her, as if Elvira knew exactly what it felt like to be lost in the world.
***
That afternoon, Tara attended her first lecture. The room was packed with freshmen, their faces a mix of enthusiasm and nerves. But Tara couldn't focus. Her mind kept drifting back to her sister's message. She kept doing the math in her head, trying to figure out how she would survive the week.
After class, Tara stopped at an ATM. Her hand shook as she swiped the card. The balance on the screen made her stomach turn: Rp 287,000.
She withdrew 100,000, then immediately transferred 150,000 to her sister's school account. Tara stood before the machine for a long time, staring at the receipt as if hoping the numbers would shift. But they remained unchanged.
The commute back to the boarding house felt grueling. The heat was oppressive, the traffic stagnant, and her stomach was empty. When she reached her room, she collapsed onto the bed. The world felt like it was spinning.
How do I survive this? she thought. I can't go on like this.
She buried her face in a pillow. The memory of her mother came flooding back. The last time they met at the hospital, her mother had gripped her hand tight.
"Forgive me, Nak... I can't work like I used to. You got into university, and that's enough to make me proud. We'll find a way together, okay? If you can, try to find a side job. Don't be afraid of the exhaustion. Just keep moving. You're strong."
Tears tracked down Tara's face before she realized it.
Outside, a commotion started. Tami was home, laughing loudly as she told Dina about a 'killer' lecturer. Their voices seeped through the cracks of the door—a different world, indifferent to her sorrow. Tara took a deep breath, swallowing her sobs. She didn't want the others to know how fragile she was from day one.
That night, after everyone had settled into their own business, Tara sat alone on her bed. Her phone buzzed—another message from Dini.
Dini: Thanks, Kak. I'll study hard so I won't be a burden.
Tara stared at the screen for a long time, then gave a bitter smile. "You're never a burden," she whispered softly.
She pressed the phone to her chest and closed her eyes. The sound of a motorcycle stopped at the gate again. A faint male voice drifted in, then Elvira's door opened and shut quickly. Tara bit her lip. Curious. She tried to peek through the gap in her curtains, but the room across from her was already silent and tightly shut.
That night, in that cramped room with the old wooden wardrobe, Tara finally fell asleep. Her stomach was still empty, her heart still heavy with anxiety, but somewhere deep inside, a small flame of resolve flickered: she had to survive, no matter the cost.