Outside, the rain had dwindled to a fine drizzle that dampened the asphalt as Dr. Jonathan’s black SUV slowly turned through the gates of Griya Asri Residential Complex. The middle-class neighborhood looked quiet beneath the wet night sky. Under the dim streetlights, Jonathan drove through blocks of modest, medium-sized homes until he finally stopped in front of a house with a low white-painted wooden fence.
The house belonged to Aisyah—a small home that looked clean and well maintained, though far from luxurious. On the front porch, a yellow incandescent bulb illuminated Fatimah’s neatly arranged hanging pots of ornamental plants.
Inside the car, the atmosphere suddenly felt utterly silent. The engine was switched off, leaving behind the nighttime stillness, broken only by the rustling of water through the wet leaves. Aisyah stared at her own house, her heart pounding erratically. Her original plan had been to go home alone by public transportation so her being with her lecturer would remain safely out of the public eye. But fate had brought her straight to her front yard in the same car as Dr. Jonathan.
“We’re here,” Jonathan said softly, breaking the silence as he turned to look at his student. He unfastened his seat belt, then adjusted his glasses at the bridge of his nose.
Aisyah swallowed hard. Anxiety crept through her chest. It wasn’t only because she had brought the young lecturer who had long been at the center of her inner turmoil home with her. It was also because she knew her mother, Fatimah, must be waiting in the living room.
“Thank you so much for driving me home in weather like this, Professor,” Aisyah said stiffly, her hand already reaching for the car door handle. “You don’t need to get out. I’ll go straight inside.”
Jonathan fell silent for a moment, studying the hesitation on Aisyah’s face. Before Aisyah could open the door, he had already reached for the handle on his side. “As a man and an educator who has brought his student home safely on a terrible night, it is only proper that I get out and pay my respects to your mother, Aisyah. Basic etiquette does not allow me to simply drop you off at the gate without saying goodbye to the homeowner.”
Before Aisyah could stop him or piece together a refusal, Jonathan had already stepped out of the car, walked around the front, and opened Aisyah’s door while holding his black umbrella.
Aisyah had no choice but to get out. The cold night air immediately greeted her skin as she stood beside Jonathan. They walked side by side into the small yard and climbed the two steps to the porch, until Jonathan finally stood directly in front of the main wooden door.
Knock, knock, knock.
The calm yet firm knocking echoed across the porch. A few seconds later, the sound of a key turning came from behind the door, followed by the soft scrape of hinges. The door swung wide, revealing Fatimah—a middle-aged woman in a simple headscarf, with weariness and warmth etched across her face.
“Aisyah? You’re just getting home, sweetheart? I was worried because of the heavy rain...” Fatimah’s words came to an abrupt stop when her gaze shifted from her daughter to the tall man in a neatly tailored suit standing beside Aisyah with his umbrella folded.
The atmosphere on the porch suddenly froze into awkward silence. Fatimah blinked slowly, staring intently at the unfamiliar man before her, whose academic air and commanding presence were impossible to miss.
“S-sorry, Mom,” Aisyah cut in quickly, her voice trembling slightly from overwhelming embarrassment. “This is... Dr. Jonathan. He’s my thesis adviser at the university. We got caught in heavy rain on campus earlier, so... he was kind enough to drive me home because there wasn’t any transportation.”
At the mention of his title and the explanation, something changed in Fatimah’s eyes. A flash of old memories—or some invisible tension—passed briefly through the middle-aged woman’s gaze, though she quickly regained control of herself. Fatimah drew a deep breath, then straightened her back.
Jonathan stepped half a pace forward and inclined his head slightly in an exquisitely courteous gesture. He placed his right hand over his chest, then extended it for a handshake with impeccable restraint.
“Good evening, ma’am. I’m Jonathan Wijaya, Aisyah’s academic adviser in the Indonesian Literature Department,” Jonathan said in his calm, authoritative baritone. “Please accept my sincerest apologies for arriving so late and bringing Aisyah home past curfew. The weather outside was truly unsafe for students traveling.”
Fatimah briefly accepted Jonathan’s outstretched hand with a faint smile that concealed a thousand emotions. “Oh... Jonathan, dear. Please come in. Don’t stand outside any longer. Come inside.”
Aisyah stood frozen in the doorway, feeling as though her heart might leap out of her chest. The meeting between her birth mother, who lived a simple life, and Dr. Jonathan—a man from a prominent family background who carried a knot of the past with him—had taken place just like that in the cramped living room of her home.
Inside the modest living room, beneath the white fluorescent light illuminating walls hung with framed calligraphy, a new chapter filled with awkwardness and undisclosed secrets officially began.