A year later.
12th grade, with finals just around the corner. Kiki, who was now more relaxed than the version of herself back in 10th grade—even though she still carried two colored pens instead of four—sat in the same seat, at the same school, beside the same person.
Bara had gotten several offers to perform at music events around the city and had secretly applied to the music school he’d been dreaming of.
Kiki, whose grades were still consistently excellent, was ready to take the entrance exam for the medical school of her dreams.
One afternoon, the two of them sat alone in the empty classroom, just like they had back when it all began.
“Remember,” Kiki began, looking at their desk, which was covered in doodles, “I was so mad when I found out our attendance had been switched and I had to sit with you.”
“I remember that perfectly,” Bara said with a laugh. “You even asked Ms. Retno if you could move seats, but she turned you down.”
“I never imagined one attendance mistake could lead me to... this.” Kiki gestured toward the two of them, a small smile on her face.
Bara took Kiki’s hand and looked out the classroom window toward the school field, which had witnessed so many of their moments—from their awkward introduction and surprise group project to the cafeteria video that caused a commotion, and all their efforts to convince their parents and themselves.
“Maybe,” Bara said softly, “life gets the seating assignment wrong sometimes. But as long as we’re willing to try to understand each other and be honest about how we feel... there’s no such thing as the wrong crush.” He smiled at Kiki.
Kiki smiled and rested her head on Bara’s shoulder as the afternoon slowly turned into dusk, bathing the classroom that had once been the site of two mismatched seats in light—the classroom that became the place where the most meaningful story of their lives began.
A few months later.
The announcement of the university entrance exam results fell on a Thursday at three in the afternoon—the time Kiki considered the most agonizing of her entire life, even worse than waiting for the results of any Physics test.
She sat in her room with her laptop open to the announcement portal’s login page, her hands trembling above the keyboard. On the video call, Bara, Della, and Yuda were also waiting for their own results—Bara for the music school he wanted, and Della and Yuda for the colleges of their choice.
“Ki, just open it. Stop putting it off,” Della’s voice came from the screen, and she sounded just as nervous.
“I’m scared, Del,” Kiki said, biting her lip.
“What if I don’t get in?” Kiki asked pessimistically.
“Ki.” Bara’s voice was quieter this time, more soothing than the others’. “Whether you get in or not doesn’t measure how hard you’ve worked. You’ve studied your butt off this past year. Whatever the result, I’m proud of you.”
Kiki took a long breath and finally clicked the button to view her results.
The loading page lasted a few seconds that felt like a whole year.
Then the words “CONGRATULATIONS, YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED” appeared on the screen, along with the name of her dream medical school. Kiki screamed—a sound that rarely escaped her usually well-controlled mouth.
On the video call, her three friends erupted too. Della jumped up and down in her room, Yuda clapped and whistled loudly, and Bara—who looked the most relieved of all—was silent for a moment before breaking into a huge smile, his eyes glistening with tears.
“I TOLD YOU SO!” Bara shouted, his voice hoarse. “Congratulations, Doctor Kirana.”
“I’m not a doctor yet, Bara. I’ve only been accepted,” Kiki said, half crying and half laughing as she wiped away the tears that had suddenly fallen.
“Fine, future Doctor Kirana,” Bara said with a grin. “And future musician Bara Aditya. Sounds pretty cool, right?” He burst out laughing.
A few minutes later, it was Bara’s turn to open the announcement for his own music school—and he had been accepted too, into the program he’d wanted for so long.
That night, the two families—Kiki’s and Bara’s—who had previously known each other only through stories told by their children, finally met in person for a small celebratory dinner.
Kiki’s mom, who had once been the most strongly opposed to their relationship, even raised her glass for a toast.
“Congratulations to both of you,” she said, her smile sincere and far removed from the cold tone that had once come so often. “I finally believe that sometimes the best plan isn’t the neatest one on paper, but the one you honestly follow with your heart.”
Kiki glanced at Bara, who smiled back, remembering the little piece of paper with their “list of conversation topics” from their first date—the one Bara claimed he still kept in his desk drawer, as a reminder that the most precious things often came from the messiest plans.
Different cities, different colleges, different paths they would follow starting the next year—but that night, they both knew they would be okay.
Not because everything was perfect, but because they had learned how to fight for things together, as honestly as possible, ever since the day their attendance had been switched.