Thirty days turns out to go by faster when they have a date attached to them.
Before this, “next month” had sounded far away.
There was still time.
There was always later.
There was always next week.
But ever since Lina pressed the accept button, everything had turned into numbers.
30 days.
29.
28.
And every number felt like something they had to use wisely.
The problem was, Arga and Lina didn’t know how.
On the first day after the Singapore decision, they had dinner at their usual place.
There was no celebration.
No flowers.
No over-the-top congratulations.
Arga arrived with a plastic bag full of bread.
Lina looked inside.
“What’s this?”
“Bread.”
“I know.”
“Then why’d you ask?”
“Why’d you bring it?”
Arga sat down.
“For you.”
“Why?”
“You said yesterday that you were scared.”
Lina stared at him.
“What does that have to do with bread?”
“Nothing.”
“Then?”
“I passed a store.”
Lina took one.
“So romantic.”
“Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“Relax. I won’t.”
Arga pulled out a chair.
“What do we start taking care of tomorrow?”
“Documents.”
“Visa?”
“The company’s handling some of it.”
“Place to live?”
“Still looking.”
“Your stuff?”
Lina sighed.
“Ga.”
“Hmm?”
“I only got accepted yesterday.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t make a checklist like I’m moving tomorrow.”
Arga stopped.
Only then did he realize he had already opened the notes on his phone.
Lina looked at the screen.
“Seriously?”
Arga locked his phone.
“Habit.”
“Control freak.”
“Organized.”
“That’s the polite way to put it.”
Arga smiled.
They ate.
For almost twenty minutes, everything felt normal.
Then Lina said, “I have to tell the office this week.”
Arga nodded.
“Mom wants to help me pack, too.”
“Good.”
“Dad said he’ll take me to the airport later.”
“Good.”
Lina looked at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you looking at me?”
“I’m just thinking.”
“About what?”
Lina prodded her chicken with a fork.
“Everyone’s already starting to get me ready to leave.”
Arga stopped eating.
Lina continued, “It’s just weird.”
Arga looked down at his plate.
“Well, you are leaving.”
“Yeah.”
“Lin.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m getting ready, too.”
Lina turned toward him.
Arga showed her his phone.
“That’s why I have a checklist.”
Lina looked at it for a few seconds.
Then she let out a small laugh.
“Okay.”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“A little.”
Arga smiled too.
The first day went pretty well.
They went home without fighting.
That wasn’t necessarily good news.
On the fourth day, they fought over a suitcase.
Lina sent Arga a picture of two suitcases.
Which one?
Arga was in a meeting.
He glanced at it.
The one on the left.
Why?
It’s bigger.
Lina: The one on the right is lighter.
Arga: Then why’d you ask me?
Lina: I wanted your opinion.
Arga: My opinion is the one on the left.
Lina: But I like the one on the right.
Arga stared at the screen.
He typed:
Then get the right one.
Lina didn’t reply.
Ten minutes later:
Are you annoyed?
Arga: No.
Lina: Short answer.
Arga: I’m in a meeting.
There was no reply.
Two hours later, Arga called.
Lina answered.
“Hello.”
“The suitcase.”
“What about it?”
“Which one are you getting?”
“Not sure yet.”
“Get the one on the right.”
“Why?”
“You said you liked the one on the right.”
Lina went quiet.
Arga sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Lin.”
“I think I’m being sensitive.”
“You think?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
Lina gave a short laugh.
“Because I’m choosing a suitcase to move to another country?”
Arga went silent.
“And you focused on the size.”
“I thought you were asking about the size.”
“I don’t even know why I’m mad.”
“Whatever.”
“See?”
“What?”
“Don’t say ‘whatever.’”
Arga closed his eyes.
It had only been four days since they’d promised to be honest.
Turns out honesty was more exhausting than they’d imagined.
“Okay,” Arga said. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”
Lina was quiet.
“But I understand why you’re sensitive.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Maybe.”
“Don’t say maybe.”
“Lin.”
“What?”
Arga held his breath.
“Do you want me to lie?”
Silence.
Lina didn’t answer.
Arga continued, “If I say I understand everything, that’s a lie. I’m not moving. I’m not leaving my home. I don’t have to start from zero.”
Lina spoke more softly when she finally answered.
“I never said you had to understand everything.”
“Then?”
“I just…”
She stopped.
Arga waited.
“I’m scared everything will become technical.”
“What do you mean, technical?”
“Suitcases. Documents. Tickets. An apartment.”
Lina rubbed her nose.
“Like if we focus on all of that, we won’t have to talk about the fact that I’m really leaving.”
Arga looked at his desk.
He knew she was right.
A checklist was easier.
Numbers were easier.
Things that could be checked off felt safe.
“I’m scared too,” he said.
Lina didn’t interrupt.
“I just don’t know what else to do besides help with whatever I can.”
His voice grew softer.
Lina fell silent.
Then she asked, “Can you come Saturday?”
“I can.”
“Help me choose a suitcase.”
Arga smiled a little.
“Okay.”
“And don’t say the one on the left just because it’s bigger.”
“What if it really is bigger?”
“Arga.”
“Yeah.”
The fight was over.
No one won.
Maybe that was their new way of doing things.
On the seventh day, Lina officially resigned from her job.
She left the building carrying two small boxes.
One held her desk things.
The other was filled with food from her friends.
Arga was waiting out front.
As soon as Lina got into the car, she put the boxes on the floor.
“Done?”
“Done.”
“Sad?”
“I don’t know.”
Arga glanced at her.
“Were you crying?”
“No.”
“Your eyes are red.”
“The office AC.”
Arga didn’t argue.
He started the car.
Lina looked out the window.
“Ga.”
“Hmm?”
“I worked there for three years.”
“Yeah.”
“I complained every day.”
“Yeah.”
“And now I’m sad.”
“Humans are weird.”
Lina hit his arm.
“Say something sensible.”
Arga smiled.
They stopped to buy iced tea.
Lina drank half a glass without saying anything.
Arga didn’t pressure her.
At the next red light, Lina said, “Mbak Sari hugged me earlier.”
“Hmm.”
“She told me not to forget to come home.”
Arga gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Lina continued, “And I haven’t even left yet.”
“People get dramatic about goodbyes.”
“What about you?”
“No.”
Lina turned toward him.
Arga held back a smile.
“A little.”
“Good.”
On the tenth day, they fought again.
This time it was about the weekend.
Lina had dinner scheduled with her extended family.
Arga had already bought tickets to a small concert they’d talked about before.
“Can you reschedule dinner?” Arga asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because my family wants to see me, too.”
“So do I.”
Lina looked at him.
They were standing in a luggage store.
Ironic.
“Ga.”
“What?”
“I can’t give you all my time.”
“I didn’t say all of it.”
“You bought the tickets without asking.”
“Because you said you wanted to go.”
“That was before all the schedules changed.”
Arga held his breath.
He knew what he said next could make things worse.
He said it anyway.
“Whatever. Go with your family.”
Lina stared at him flatly.
“You’re mad.”
“I’m not.”
“Don’t start.”
“I’m just saying, go.”
“It’s your tone.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?”
Lina lowered her voice.
“Don’t make me feel guilty for having other people who want to see me before I leave, too.”
Arga stopped immediately.
The words hit exactly where they were meant to.
Not because Lina was wrong.
Because she was right.
Arga lowered his head.
“I’m sorry.”
Lina still looked angry.
But she didn’t leave.
Arga continued, “I… I think I’m counting.”
“Counting what?”
“How many more times we can see each other.”
Lina went quiet.
“When you have dinner with your family, it becomes one less night in my head.”
Lina’s expression softened a little.
Arga looked at the luggage rack.
“I know it isn’t fair.”
Lina moved half a step closer.
“I’m counting, too.”
Arga turned toward her.
Lina shrugged.
“I just pretend I’m not.”
They stood between suitcases in shades of black and gray.
Neither of them spoke for a few seconds.
Finally, Lina pointed to a dark blue suitcase.
“What about this one?”
Arga looked at the label.
“Heavy.”
“Is it good?”
“Good.”
“Don’t just say good.”
Arga gripped the handle.
“Four wheels.”
“They all have four wheels.”
“Then don’t ask me.”
Lina laughed.
The tension eased.
They bought the dark blue suitcase.
Arga carried it all the way to the car.
On the thirteenth day, Daniel messaged Lina.
Daniel: My mom wants to have dinner again next week.
Lina: My condolences.
Daniel: She mentioned you.
Lina: Block your mom.
Daniel: Good idea.
Lina laughed to herself.
Arga, sitting across from her, noticed.
“Who is it?”
Lina immediately set her phone down.
“Daniel.”
Arga stopped holding his spoon.
Lina noticed the small change.
“He was just saying that his mom wants to have dinner again.”
“Oh.”
Lina looked at him.
Arga raised a hand.
“Sorry. Reflex.”
Lina smiled.
“He knows I’m moving.”
“Does he message you often?”
The question came out too quickly.
Lina raised an eyebrow.
“Sometimes.”
“What does ‘sometimes’ mean?”
“It means sometimes.”
Arga looked down at his bowl.
Lina said, “Are you jealous?”
“Yeah.”
Lina stopped.
Arga continued eating.
Lina held back a smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Why?”
“Good.”
“What’s good?”
“You said it right away.”
Arga sighed.
“You said we had to be honest.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m jealous. But I’m not going to tell you to block him.”
“Good.”
“If you want to block him, though, that’s fine too.”
“Arga.”
“I’m kidding.”
Lina laughed.
For the first time in days, honesty felt easier.
On the eighteenth day, they went to Lina’s house to pack.
Mom had already taken out the boxes.
Dad had bought an absurd amount of bubble wrap.
Lina’s room looked like a moving store.
Arga sat on the floor, sorting through books.
“Are you bringing this?”
“No.”
“This?”
“Bring it.”
“This?”
Lina looked.
“Throw it out.”
Arga held up an old notebook.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.”
Arga opened the first page.
Lina snatched it away.
“Don’t read it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s personal.”
“We’ve been dating for three years.”
“That doesn’t mean you can read everything.”
Arga handed it back.
“Fair.”
They continued.
From beneath the pile, Arga found an old movie ticket.
The date was two years earlier.
The movie had been terrible.
They’d even left before it ended.
Arga held up the ticket.
“This?”
Lina looked at it.
A smile appeared.
“Just throw it out.”
Arga stopped.
“Seriously?”
Lina stared at the ticket.
Then she took it.
“No.”
She put it in a small box.
Arga didn’t comment.
Some things were useless.
But hard to throw away.
On the twenty-second day, they had dinner with Lina’s family.
It wasn’t a formal get-together.
Arga was just dropping off a few boxes.
Mom told him to come in.
Dad offered him dinner.
Arga didn’t have a good enough reason to refuse.
It was the first time he’d sat at Lina’s dining table for a long while as the boyfriend everyone knew about.
There was no interrogation.
That was exactly what made Arga more nervous.
Mom asked about his work.
Dad asked about traffic.
Lina secretly kicked Arga’s leg whenever his answers got too formal.
After they left, Arga said in the car, “Your mom is scary.”
Lina laughed.
“She only asked about your job.”
“It was her tone.”
“That’s just how Mom sounds.”
“Your dad is scarier.”
“Dad only asked about the toll roads.”
“Exactly.”
Lina laughed even harder.
Arga looked at her.
For a few minutes, he forgot the numbers.
Forgot how many days were left.
Lina looked the way she always did.
And maybe that was what scared him most.
That something could feel normal right up until the moment before it disappeared.
On the twenty-fifth day, Lina started getting a sore throat.
Arga came over with medicine, rice porridge, and vitamins.
Lina opened the door with her hair sticking out in every direction.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dropping this off.”
“I said I only have a sore throat.”
“Yeah.”
“Why did you bring an entire pharmacy?”
Arga went inside.
“Preventive care.”
“Control freak.”
“Organized.”
Lina closed the door.
They’d repeated that conversation who knew how many times.
Strange.
The same words could feel comforting when there was so little time left.
On the twenty-eighth day, Lina said, “I’m scared we’re going to change.”
They were sitting in the car after dinner.
Arga didn’t start the engine.
“How will we change?”
“I don’t know.”
“Lin.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Lina looked at the dashboard.
“I’m scared we’ll become the kind of people who only send each other schedule updates.”
Arga was quiet.
“Work in the morning. Meetings in the afternoon. Too tired at night. Then do it all over again tomorrow.”
“We can work something out.”
“There you go.”
Arga turned toward her.
“What?”
“You want to make a schedule.”
Arga almost protested.
Then he stopped.
Lina let out a small laugh.
“I love you, Ga.”
Arga looked at her.
Lina rarely said it just like that.
Not in a moment like this.
“Me too.”
“But I don’t want our relationship to turn into project management.”
Arga laughed softly.
“Fair.”
“If one day we only have five minutes to call, don’t use those five minutes to talk about when we’ll call next.”
Arga nodded.
“Okay.”
“If you miss me, say so.”
“Okay.”
“If you’re tired, say so.”
“Okay.”
“If you’re mad—”
“Say so.”
Lina smiled.
“Learn.”
“A little.”
On the twenty-ninth day, Lina’s suitcase was already standing in the corner of her room.
Dark blue.
Too real.
Arga stared at it for a long time.
Lina, who was folding clothes, noticed.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Don’t start.”
Arga pointed at the suitcase.
“Tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
Lina stopped folding.
They didn’t speak.
Mom called from downstairs.
Dinner was ready.
Lina stood up.
Arga was still sitting.
“Ga.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t make me cry at the airport tomorrow.”
Arga looked at her.
“Why me?”
“Because your sad face is ugly.”
Arga gave a short laugh.
“What about when you cry?”
“I’m still pretty.”
“Confident.”
Lina held out her hand.
Arga took it.
Lina pulled him to his feet.
Their hands remained connected for a few seconds longer than necessary.
Neither of them let go first.
The night before her departure, Arga drove Lina home a little after eleven.
The car stopped in the same place as always.
Lina’s front gate.
The porch light.
The small tree in the corner of the yard.
Everything looked normal.
Lina unfastened her seat belt.
“Tomorrow at six?”
“I’ll be here at five-thirty.”
“That’s too early.”
“Then we won’t be late.”
“Six is fine.”
“Five-thirty.”
“Ga.”
“Quarter to six.”
Lina sighed.
“Okay.”
She opened the door.
Arga called out.
“Lin.”
Lina turned.
Arga wanted to say so many things.
Don’t go.
I’m scared.
I’m not ready.
I love you.
They’d already said parts of all of it before.
That night, none of it felt like enough.
In the end, he only said, “Go to sleep.”
Lina looked at him.
Then she smiled a little.
“You too.”
She got out.
Walked toward the gate.
Arga waited until Lina went inside.
Like always.
The difference was, tomorrow morning he would pick her up again.
And after that, for the first time in three years, he would take Lina somewhere he couldn’t follow her home from.