That night, Yoyi was restless. His thoughts drifted to the tomboyish girl who had helped him. She had not only saved him from the public-order officers, but had also given Yoyi hope—the kind he had buried deep inside for so long. Yoyi did not even know the girl’s name. He only knew one thing: she was different. She laughed at him, but she had helped him sincerely.
Yoyi got up from the bed and stared at his reflection in the mirror. A face without makeup, without breast padding, the face of a man. Yoyi touched his strong jaw and high-bridged nose. This face. Why couldn’t he accept himself?
The next morning, as the sun began to rise, Yoyi made a decision. He would find the girl. Yoyi did not know her name, where she lived, or how to find her. He left the rental place, leaving his friends still fast asleep. Yoyi walked toward the intersection where he had met the girl, hoping to find a clue.
When he reached the intersection, all he found was an empty coffee cart. Yoyi sighed. He had no idea where to start.
Night after night, Yoyi spent his time at that intersection, hoping a miracle would happen. He sat in the same spot, occasionally buying coffee from the cart, which had resumed operating.
“Bro, that girl who helped me the other day still hasn’t come back, huh?” Yoyi asked the coffee vendor.
“Which one?” the vendor asked.
“The tomboy who helped me when I was being chased by the public-order officers,” Yoyi reminded him.
“Oh, that pretty girl.” The coffee vendor remembered her. “Her name’s Jo. She hasn’t come back here.”
“Jo,” Yoyi murmured. A faint smile appeared on his face when he learned the girl’s name.
The image of Jo’s face, her laughter, and especially the magical words she had spoken kept flashing through his mind. Those words were like a spell binding his thoughts.
Yoyi’s resolve to change grew stronger. He began cutting back on his nighttime street performing. His friends—Amira, Malika, Maria, and Yanti—were naturally puzzled. They thought Yoyi was acting strange. Amira even teased him about being in love.
“Who are you crushing on, Yi? It’s seriously weird seeing you skip street performing with us,” Amira teased, nudging Yoyi’s arm.
“Just not in the mood,” Yoyi answered shortly.
“Not in the mood, or waiting for her to show up here?” Malika chimed in, followed by laughter from their friends.
Yoyi remained silent. He did not want to talk about Jo—not because he was embarrassed, but because he was afraid the dream that had just begun growing in his heart would wither before it bloomed. He chose to keep it all to himself, silently swallowing his friends’ nonstop jabs.
That night, Yoyi went to his usual street-performing spot. This time, he was not wearing trans woman clothing. He wore a white T-shirt and jeans. Yoyi sat on the sidewalk, watching people come and go. He stared at every girl who passed, hoping one of them was Jo. He sat there until late at night, until finally, the rain began to fall. Yoyi went home with an empty heart.
The turmoil in his heart grew worse. He felt like a loser who could not find his way forward. He kept thinking about Jo’s words and the promise he had made to himself. Yet every day he went without making any progress felt like a crushing blow.
He never found Jo, but his resolve to change never died. The girl’s words, though spoken only once, had become a compass guiding him, a lighthouse shining amid the storm of his doubts. Yoyi knew he had to change—not only for Jo, but for himself.
One night, Yoyi returned to the rental place and saw Yanti eating instant noodles.
“Yi, come eat first,” Yanti invited him. But Yoyi only shook his head slowly. He sat beside Yanti and took a deep breath. He had to talk, somehow.
“Yanto,” Yoyi said, using Yanti’s real name.
Yanti stopped stirring his noodles and looked at Yoyi. “What’s wrong, Satrio?” Yanti replied, using Yoyi’s real name as well, as if he understood how serious Yoyi was.
“I’m tired,” Yoyi said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I’m tired of being Yoyi. I’m tired of running around like this.”
Yanti fell silent, looking at Yoyi with gentle eyes. “What’s wrong, Yi? Tell me,” he urged softly.
Yoyi finally told him everything—from meeting Jo and the words she had spoken to the endless turmoil in his heart. Yoyi told him about wanting to become a whole man again, about wanting a normal life, to get married, and have a family.
“I don’t know where to start. She only said, ‘Once you’ve repented, Bro, come find me. I want to marry a former tranny.’ I don’t know where to look, but now I know her name is ‘Jo,’” Yoyi said, his voice trembling. A faint smile formed on his lips as he spoke the girl’s name.
Hearing Yoyi’s story, Yanti smiled faintly. He set down his bowl of noodles. “You know, Yi? I really understand what you’re feeling,” Yanti said. “You think I like living like this? Wearing a nightgown, a miniskirt, running from the public-order officers? No, Yi. Deep down, I miss being Yanto too.”
Yoyi was shocked. All this time, Yanti had always seemed cheerful and happy with his life. Yoyi had never known that behind Yanti’s cheerful mask was a completely different story.
“Back in my village, I have a wife and a kid, Yi.” Yanti continued, his gaze drifting into the distance. “My kid’s in third grade now. I promised them that one day I’d come home with a lot of money and open a business in the village. They don’t know their dad works like this. They only know their dad works in the city. Every night, all I can do is call them. My wife always says, ‘Come home soon, okay? Our kid misses you.’ Every time I hear that, my heart breaks, Yi.”
Yanti wiped away his falling tears. “So if you want to change, don’t hesitate, Yi. I support you. Find her and become your whole self again. I won’t stop you. I’ll actually be really happy if you can get out of here. You have an opportunity not everyone gets.”
Hearing Yanti’s support, Yoyi felt a little relieved, but another worry surfaced. “But…”
Yanti smiled. “You want to be yourself, right? Your friends here will definitely support you. If you want, we can do it together. Find honest, normal work together.”
Yoyi sighed. The road ahead was still blurry, but he no longer felt alone. He did not know how he would do it, but he would do it for himself—and for a single promise spoken by a nameless girl.
Suddenly, Yoyi’s eyes fell on a news report playing on the television in the corner of the room. It was a report about a motorcycle accident. Yoyi’s hand froze, his eyes widening when he saw the victim wearing a dark-gray shirt. A white T-shirt was tucked beneath the jacket. The wrecked motorcycle was red—a sport bike just like Jo’s.