“…and to the right of that glass door, there’s a desk for verifying the academic registration documents. The staff member usually arrives at exactly nine in the morning, so if you come before then, you may have to wait a little in the waiting room at the end of the corridor.”
The gentle voice flowing like a calm river reached Adiba Bahira Humaira’s ears, but the first-semester freshman’s eyes remained fixed on Arsenio Pratama’s face as he stood directly in front of her. This third-year upperclassman was different from most people his age, who often used slang and spoke bluntly, sometimes even rudely. Every word that left his lips was spoken with the utmost courtesy, his intonation elegantly controlled, as though each sentence had passed through a filter of refinement before being delivered.
“I like you.”
The echo of that same voice, only much deeper and warmer, thundered through her mind. Adiba saw an image of Arsenio smiling gently, his brown eyes—usually focused on every detail of his explanations—now filled with sincere longing.
“Really?”
The words slipped from her lips before she could realize what was happening. Her tongue seemed to possess a will of its own, uttering a sentence completely unrelated to what they had been discussing.
Arsenio, who had been raising his hand to point toward the tuition payment counter, suddenly froze. His fingers stopped in midair, and his usually attentive, observant gaze shifted into mild confusion. His neatly shaped eyebrows lifted slightly, creating a faint crease across his forehead, which was partly covered by his always-perfect light blond hair.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t understand what you mean. Did I explain something incorrectly about the Psychology program registration process? Or perhaps you have another question you haven’t asked yet?”
His voice remained as gentle as before, but now it carried a note of admiration cloaked in confusion. Arsenio adjusted his tie, an accessory rarely seen on students at this campus, yet one that looked entirely natural on him, adding to the elegance that radiated from his every movement.
Adiba felt the blood rush to the tips of her ears. Her face, usually as clear and white as a pearl, flushed with deep embarrassment. She immediately lowered her gaze, realizing that the image haunting her had made her do something terribly impolite. Her right hand, clutching a plain cotton backpack, tightened around it, while her left hand reflexively smoothed the front of her long black hijab.
“No, Arsenio. I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to. I was thinking about something else that had absolutely nothing to do with what you were explaining.”
The words came out quickly but clearly, just as her parents had taught her, always emphasizing the importance of speaking properly and politely. Although her heart was pounding as if it might leap from her chest, Adiba tried to keep her posture straight and graceful. She didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the upperclassman who had patiently helped her all this time.
Arsenio fell silent for a moment, his brown eyes carefully following Adiba’s every small movement. Then, unexpectedly, he gave her a warm smile, creating a slight curve at the corner of his mouth and making one eye narrow just a little. His voice was softer now, almost filled with understanding.
“It’s all right, Adiba. Sometimes our thoughts wander elsewhere, especially when we’re dealing with new things that are confusing. A campus can make you feel as though you’re in the middle of a vast ocean, can’t it? There’s so much to learn and so many people to meet.”
He took a small step forward, still maintaining a respectful distance between them. His eyes turned toward the long corridor ahead, where several other students were hurrying along or stopping to chat in the corners.
“Would you like me to repeat the explanation about when to pick up your student ID card? Or perhaps you need to rest for a while in the campus cafeteria? I can accompany you if you feel you need it, or if you’re worried about getting lost again like you did earlier while looking for the administration building.”
Adiba slowly raised her head. Her usually calm black eyes still glimmered faintly with lingering embarrassment. But when she saw the smile still on Arsenio’s face, relief suddenly washed over her. There was no reproach, no sarcasm—only sincere courtesy and genuine respect.
“No, thank you. I understand your explanation perfectly. It’s just that I’m still not very familiar with this new environment at Universitas Muhammadiyah Yogyakarta. Thank you so much for taking the time to help me, even though you seemed busy with something of your own earlier.”
Arsenio slowly shook his head, his smile never fading. He drew a deep breath, then turned back toward Adiba, his gaze now filled with an unconscious interest.
“I was busy, yes, but helping new students is part of our responsibility as upperclassmen. Especially when you’ve come here with a clear goal of pursuing knowledge—that deserves our wholehearted support. Besides…” He paused briefly, as though thinking before continuing. “…you seem very different from most of the other new female students I’ve met. Calm, focused, and deeply respectful.”
At that very moment, the image that had appeared earlier returned to Adiba’s mind. This time, she saw Arsenio clearly, standing before her with his lips parting to say the same words as before. But she quickly chased the image away and refocused on the reality in front of her.
Why do I keep imagining things like this? she thought, exhaling slowly.
Before Adiba could answer, a voice began to sound from the direction of the building’s entrance. A female student with neatly tied curly hair came running toward them, her face bright with excitement.
“Arsenio! So you’re here! I’ve been looking everywhere for you. The professor is calling you to discuss the presentation for next week’s national seminar. He said it’s very important!”
Arsenio let out a soft sigh and nodded at the student. Then he turned back toward Adiba, his gaze now full of apology.
“It looks like I have to go now. I’m sorry for leaving you in the middle of everything. But before I do, do you have a phone number or social media account? If you run into any trouble or have other questions about the campus, I’d be happy to help if I can.”
Adiba’s heart trembled slightly at his words. She quickly took a small notebook from her bag, wrote down her phone number in neat handwriting, and handed it to Arsenio. He accepted the notebook carefully, watching the movement of her fingers with full attention before writing his own number on the same page.
“I’ll keep this safe. Don’t hesitate to contact me anytime. I hope your registration process goes smoothly, Adiba Bahira Humaira.”
He gave her one last exceptionally warm smile, then followed the female student with the same controlled, elegant stride. Adiba remained where she was, watching him slowly disappear at the end of the corridor, while the notebook, still warm from Arsenio’s touch, rested in her hand.
Really?
The words from her imagined scene echoed through her mind again. This time, it wasn’t embarrassment that surrounded her, but a deep curiosity about that polite, elegant Christian man. How could someone be so different from everyone else? And why did her thoughts keep drifting toward something so irrational?
Adiba sighed and carefully readjusted her hijab. She looked toward the registration desk Arsenio had mentioned earlier, then started walking there with steady steps. But in her heart, a question kept surfacing, making it impossible for her to stop thinking:
Could this be only the beginning of something far more complicated?