That late afternoon, Daffa went home later than usual. The clock on his phone already read 5:20 p.m. when he walked out of the school building, dragging his feet. The courtyard was nearly empty. A few students were still waiting for their rides, while the sound of vehicles from the main road drifted faintly from behind the fence. Daffa slipped his phone into his pants pocket, then paused in front of the gate.
“Heading home now?” someone called from behind him.
Daffa turned and found Aldi jogging toward him, his bag slung over one shoulder. His hair was a mess, his face was sweaty, and he looked like someone who had just been chased by the hall monitor.
“Nope. I’m planning to stay here until tonight,” Daffa replied flatly.
Aldi laughed. “Your answers get weirder every day.”
“Your questions aren’t important either.”
“Whatever. You heading straight home?”
Daffa shook his head. “Later.”
Aldi studied him for a few seconds. He had known Daffa long enough to realize that answers that short usually meant something was going on. Still, Aldi didn’t ask any further questions. He just shrugged and walked toward the parking lot.
“If you change your mind, let me know. I’m heading out first.”
Daffa nodded without answering.
After Aldi left, Daffa looked back toward the school building. His eyes settled on the top floor. There was one place he had often gone over the past few months whenever his thoughts felt too crowded.
The Rooftop.
The place itself wasn’t anything special. Just an open floor with a metal railing, a few old chairs, some potted plants that had mostly dried up, and a view of the city from above. There was nothing there that would make anyone else want to linger.
But to Daffa, it was different.
There, he could sit without having to explain anything to anyone.
He climbed the stairs slowly. Each step felt lighter than it had in the classroom hallway. When he reached the metal door, Daffa paused for a moment. His hand touched the handle, its paint beginning to peel, and then he pushed it open.
The late-afternoon breeze greeted him at once.
Daffa walked toward the corner of the Rooftop where he usually sat. He set his bag on the floor, then sat with his back against the railing. From there, he could see the sun beginning to sink between the high-rises. The sky slowly shifted from pale blue to a deepening orange.
He took out his phone and opened an old photo.
A photo of himself with his family.
There were his father, his mother, and himself, looking much younger. They were smiling in front of a small house they no longer lived in. Daffa stared at the photo for a long while before finally turning off the screen.
“Why do I just get more confused every time I look at that photo?”
There was no answer.
Daffa let out a long breath.
The atmosphere at home had felt different over the past few weeks. His father had been coming home later and later, his mother had grown quieter, and the conversations at the dinner table, once lively, now consisted of nothing but simple questions about school or food. Daffa didn’t know what was happening. Whenever he asked, both of his parents always said everything was fine.
But it clearly wasn’t.
He looked back up at the sky.
“If everyone keeps saying everything’s fine, why does it feel like it isn’t?”
Suddenly, footsteps sounded from the direction of the door.
Daffa turned at once.
The Rooftop door slowly opened.
A girl appeared behind it.
Daffa didn’t know her.
She wore a cream-colored sweater, her long hair falling loose around her shoulders. In her hand was a thick, dark-blue book. She stopped a few steps after coming out, as if she had only just realized someone else was there.
They looked at each other.
“Um...” The girl seemed slightly surprised. “Sorry. I thought this place was empty.”
Daffa raised an eyebrow. “It usually is.”
The girl gave him a small smile. “Then I guess I came at the wrong time.”
“Not really.”
She looked uncertain.
Daffa turned back toward the city view. “If you want to sit, go ahead.”
The girl walked toward one of the old chairs on the other side of the Rooftop. She wiped the surface with her hand before sitting down. She placed the book in her lap.
For several minutes, neither of them spoke.
Daffa was a little bothered since he was usually alone. Oddly enough, though, the girl’s presence didn’t make things uncomfortable.
If anything, there was something about her that made him curious.
Every so often, she opened the book, read a few pages, then paused to look at the sky. The habit seemed strange to Daffa.
Eventually, his curiosity won out over his silence.
“You come here often?”
The girl looked up.
“Sometimes.”
“Why?”
She closed her book.
“Because there aren’t many people here.”
Daffa smiled faintly. “Same reason as me.”
“Then I guess we have similar reasons.”
“Maybe.”
The girl studied Daffa’s face for a moment.
“Your name’s Daffa, right?”
Daffa turned to her immediately.
“You know my name?”
“This school isn’t as big as you think.”
“I’ve never seen you before.”
“Fair enough. I’m a transfer student.”
Daffa nodded slowly. “What class?”
“Eleventh Grade, Social Sciences Two.”
“I’m in Eleventh Grade, Natural Sciences One.”
“That explains it.”
“Explains what?”
“You really do look like a science kid.”
Daffa chuckled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You look serious.”
“I’m not serious.”
“You’ve looked like someone worrying about the national debt this whole time.”
Daffa laughed before he could stop himself.
It had been a long time since he’d laughed over nothing more than a simple conversation.
The girl smiled too.
“I’m Calista.”
Daffa nodded. “Daffa.”
“I know.”
“Then why introduce yourself again?”
“To be polite.”
Daffa shook his head with a smile.
The wind blew again. A few strands of Calista’s hair swept across her face. She tried to smooth them back with one hand while still holding the book in the other.
Daffa looked at the cover.
“What are you reading?”
Calista glanced at her book.
“An old novel.”
“Is it any good?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Not sure yet?”
“I’m only on page five.”
Daffa snickered. “Then why bring it up here?”
“So it looks like I have something to do.”
“That’s a weird reason.”
“You’re weird too. You come to the Rooftop just to stare into space.”
Daffa fell silent.
Calista immediately realized what she had said.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s fine.”
They fell silent again.
The sun sank lower. Orange light touched the side of the building, making the windowpanes glitter. In the distance, the call to prayer began to rise, blending with the increasingly heavy sound of traffic.
Daffa stood and picked up his bag.
“You heading home?” Calista asked.
“Yeah.”
“Coming back here tomorrow?”
Daffa stopped.
He looked at Calista, who was still sitting with her book in her hands.
“Why do you ask?”
“No particular reason.”
Daffa slung his bag over his shoulder.
“Maybe.”
Calista smiled.
“Then see you tomorrow, Daffa.”
Daffa opened the Rooftop door.
“See you tomorrow, Calista.”
He started down the stairs, but after only a few steps, Daffa stopped. A strange feeling had appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t know why, but that brief conversation had felt different.
Usually, he came to the Rooftop to forget about all sorts of things.
Today, for the first time, he was leaving with something new to think about.
A girl’s name.
Calista.
Daffa descended the stairs with a faint smile. He didn’t know yet that the simple meeting that late afternoon would become the beginning of something far bigger than he had ever imagined.
Meanwhile, on the Rooftop, Calista was still sitting alone.
She opened her book again, but didn’t read a single page.
Instead, her eyes remained fixed on the door Daffa had just walked through.
“I hope things are different this time,” she whispered.
The sky continued to change color.
And without either of them realizing it, the first sunset they spent in that place had already begun a story that would one day feel too difficult to forget.