“Dad, I’m only asking Nayara to think it over before she moves out this morning.”
Marlena’s voice came through the phone in her father’s hand as Nayara finished zipping her bag. Two large bags were waiting by the door. The clock on the wall showed five past eight.
Nayara’s father looked at her for a moment before holding out the still-connected phone. “You talk to her.”
Nayara took it and brought it to her ear.
“I’m not saying you have to pretend you’re not hurt,” Marlena said. “But you’re still Arven’s wife. If you move out right away, the family will see it as a decision that can no longer be discussed.”
“I’ve already decided to live separately, Mom, and I’m moving my things this morning.”
“At least come home first. You two can talk without making everyone wonder what’s going on.”
“I’m not going back to Mas Arven’s house just to make things look all right.”
Marlena drew a slow breath on the other end. “You know how the family sees things like this. If it can still be discussed, why move out first?”
Nayara looked at the two bags by the door. “If there’s anything I need to discuss with Mas Arven, I’ll talk to him directly, not go home first.”
“So you’re still leaving?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m still moving out this morning.”
There was a pause before Marlena answered, “All right. I’ve heard your answer.” A few seconds later, the call ended. Nayara handed the phone back to her father before reaching for one of the bags.
Yesterday, after finishing the arrangements for her rental unit, Nayara had returned to Depok because her clothes, laptop, and everyday necessities were still at her father’s house. This morning, those things were finally leaving with her.
Her father helped carry one of the bags to the porch. “If you leave anything behind, let Dad know.”
Nayara nodded as she looked at the dining table, the chair where her father usually sat, and the glass resting on it. During her last few nights there, the house had given her a place to sleep without asking many questions. She knew she could come back whenever she needed to, but this morning she already had somewhere else to go.
She gave her father a brief hug, and he patted her back twice before asking, “Did you bring your charger?”
Nayara laughed softly, even though her eyes still felt hot. “Yes. The documents are packed too.”
Her father nodded and opened the gate. Nayara lifted the last bag, walked to the car, and looked back one more time before getting in. Her father stood on the porch and raised a hand when the car door closed.
At twenty to nine, her rideshare began heading toward South Jakarta. The two bags beside her held clothes, toiletries, her laptop, a charger, personal documents, and a few basic necessities.
The trip took about seventy minutes. Nayara stood in front of her unit’s door and tapped her access card before unlocking it.
The room was still the same as yesterday: small and simple. This time, she hadn’t come to inspect it or handle the lease. She carried both bags inside, closed the door, and began putting her things away.
Nayara hung her clothes in the closet, placed her toiletries on the shelf, and set her laptop on the small table by the window. She plugged in the charger, stored her personal documents in a drawer, and folded the empty bags before sliding them beside the closet.
She laid out clothes for tomorrow, checked the bed one more time, then set a glass of water beside the sink. The unit was still simple, but several corners now held things she used every day.
Tonight, she would sleep here.
Nayara went down briefly to the convenience store on the ground floor to buy a few basic necessities. When she returned to the unit, she saw the amount on the receipt and automatically calculated the money she had left in her head.
Once everything had a place, Nayara sat on the edge of the bed. For several minutes, all she heard was the sound of vehicles outside the building, with no sound of her father from the dining room or anyone else’s footsteps inside the unit.
It’s lonely too, she thought as she smoothed the edge of the bedsheet.
Several hours later, at twenty to seven in the evening, Nayara opened her laptop.
She logged into her banking app and checked her balance after paying the rent, deposit, and household expenses. It was still enough for a few weeks of simple living, but during that time she would still have to pay for food, electricity, transportation, communication, and the following month’s rent.
Nayara opened the expense notes she had made earlier and checked the figures again. Her savings were still enough, but they would continue to dwindle if she had no income.
She closed the banking app, then opened an old work folder.
Her portfolio, partner list, and the names of clients she had worked with before were still stored there. During her three years of marriage, her work had gradually declined because she had more often adjusted her schedule and activities around her domestic life.
Nayara scrolled slowly through the list. Her finger paused over the touchpad several times, but she hadn’t opened a conversation or written a message yet. Some names she recognized immediately, while others made her stop for a moment to remember who they were.
At eighteen past seven, the client list was still open on the screen. Nayara pulled her chair a little closer and read through it from the top once more. Afterward, she closed the laptop and rested her palm on it.
Tomorrow morning, she would begin choosing which people on the list to contact first.