I didn't end up going to Maul's house.
Early in the morning, after prayer, I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the clothes I'd laid out the night before. A Milo tunic. A matching pashmina. Even the small bag was packed with a wallet, phone, and whatever medications Maul might need.
Everything was ready. I was the only one who wasn't.
The news about the accident made me realize I couldn't keep standing in the doorway, waiting for my courage to grow. I had to choose. If I stayed, I'd hide again every time Maul came. If I left, at least I wouldn't have to look into his eyes—the eyes that always forgave me while I kept hurting him with my delays.
I took a sheet of paper from the drawer. For a long time, I stared at its white surface.
Kak, I'm stepping out for a while.
The sentence felt too light for the wound I carried. I crossed it out.
I'm sorry. I can't see you yet.
I crossed that one out too.
In the end, I left no message behind. Only the clothes remained hanging there, and my phone, which I turned off after sending one message to Mom.
“Mom, Ana's leaving for a while. Don't tell Maul where I am.”
Mom replied a few minutes later.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?”
I stared at the question until my phone screen dimmed. I didn't know myself. Maybe to a friend's house. Maybe to a small inn on the edge of town. Maybe anywhere that didn't hold the sound of Maul's footsteps in the hallway, that didn't have the chair where he'd once waited for me, and that wouldn't make me feel hope and fear at the same time.
All I knew was that I had to get away from him.
Not because I didn't miss him. Precisely because I missed him too much, yet didn't know how to find my way home without carrying the guilt that kept staining every step.
I packed a few clothes into my bag. Two outfits. Sleepwear. Toiletries. My wallet. A charger. Headache medicine. I stopped when my hand touched the jar filled with paper birds.
I took out one bird.
It was pale blue, with folds that weren't quite neat. On one of its wings, I'd written Maul's name over and over. I used to fold them while waiting for him to come back. One bird for each day. One hope for each homecoming.
I clenched it tightly, then put it in my bag.
For some reason, getting away from him still felt like taking him with me.
Mom was watering the plants when I came out of my room. She knew right away from the bag on my shoulder.
“Are you leaving?”
I nodded.
“Where?”
“I don't know yet, Mom.”
Mom turned off the faucet. The water that had been running soaked the soil, then stopped, leaving a small puddle beside the chili pepper pot.
“Maul is coming today.”
I lowered my head. “I know.”
“You don't want to see him?”
The question was simple. The answer wasn't.
“I do,” I said softly. “But I also want to stop making him wait.”
Mom stepped closer and straightened the crooked edge of my pashmina. Her fingers came to rest on my shoulder.
“It's okay to leave to clear your head, sweetheart. But don't leave to punish yourself.”
I held my breath. Her words had struck exactly where I'd been hiding all this time.
“I'm not punishing myself, Mom.”
Mom looked at me for a long time. “Then why do you look like someone who's about to leave her entire life behind?”
My eyes burned. I quickly turned toward Mom's little garden. The chili leaves shifted in the morning breeze. So ordinary. So peaceful. The complete opposite of what was inside my chest.
“I'm scared, Mom.”
“Scared of what?”
“Scared that if I see him, I'll make another promise. Then break it again. I'm scared of becoming someone who keeps apologizing without ever changing.”
Mom took my hand.
“Then go so you can change. Not so you can disappear.”
I nodded, though I wasn't sure I could do it.
Before I got on my motorcycle, Mom hugged me. Her embrace was warm, but not warm enough to make me call off my departure.
“Whatever happens, don't turn off your phone,” Mom warned.
I gave her a faint smile. “I'll let you know how I am.”
“And if Maul comes...”
I lifted my face.
Mom sighed, then spoke more quietly. “I won't tell him where you are.”
My chest tightened.
“Why, Mom?”
“Because you asked me not to. And because this time, you have to learn to stand on your own without waiting for him to lead you home.”
I hugged Mom one more time, then started my motorcycle.
The morning road seemed endless. In the rearview mirror, the house grew smaller. Mom was still standing by the gate, waving until I turned a corner and lost sight of her.
I didn't know where to go.
But this time, I really was leaving.
Maul arrived near noon.
His leg was still wrapped in bandages. His steps weren't as easy as usual, but he forced himself up the stairs to my house anyway. In one hand, he carried a bag of fruit and a small white box.
“Where's Ana, Mom?” he asked after Mom opened the door.
Mom didn't answer right away.
Maul looked inside the house. The living room was empty. The chair where he usually sat was still in place. On the table, there was a cup that hadn't been washed yet.
“She left,” Mom said at last.
Maul's expression changed. “Where did she go?”
Mom tightened her grip on the doorknob. “I don't know.”
“Mom, did Ana take her phone?”
“I can't tell you that.”
Maul stared at her as if he'd just heard something impossible. “I just want to make sure she's okay.”
“She is.”
“Then tell me where she is.”
Mom shook her head.
Maul lowered his gaze. The small box in his hand trembled. He sat in the nearest chair, bracing himself against the pain in his leg.
“Is she mad at me?” he asked quietly.
“No.”
“Does she not want to see me?”
Mom was silent.
That answer hurt more than a rejection.
Maul gave a small laugh, but it broke halfway through. “I thought after yesterday's accident, she'd come. I thought... at least she'd stay for a little while.”
Mom looked at the man with pity. “Maul, don't force Ana to come home before she's ready.”
“I've never forced her.”
“You keep coming back. Waiting outside her door. Looking for her every time she disappears. To someone who's afraid, even kindness can feel like pressure.”
Maul fell silent.
For the first time, he didn't argue.
He set the white box on the table. “This is for her. Please give it to her if she comes home.”
Mom looked at the box. “What's inside?”
“A pair of sandals. Hers have been worn out for a long time.”
Mom's throat tightened. It was little things like this that made the separation even harder.
Maul rose slowly. Before leaving, he turned toward Ana's room, its door closed.
“Mom, if Ana contacts you, tell her I'm not angry.”
Mom nodded.
“And tell her...” Maul stopped. His eyes reddened. “Tell her I'll wait for her. Just not outside her door.”
After Maul left, Mom closed the door gently.
Somewhere on the road, I had no idea how far from home, my phone suddenly lit up. I had one message from Mom.
Maul came. I didn't tell him where you are.
I read the message over and over. My fingers moved to reply, but stopped above the screen.
Another message came in.
He says hi. He said he's not angry.
My tears fell before I could stop them.
I thought getting away would make my chest feel lighter. It didn't. Longing still finds a way through, even after I've closed every door.
I hugged the bag in my lap. Inside, the blue paper bird was folded among my clothes.
Kak, I'm sorry.
This time, I didn't send it.
I only watched the road moving past the window, wondering how far someone had to go before they could find their way home.
... (To be continued)