Chapter 28
Tshabina
I’d read an article that said a single mistake could erase a thousand good deeds. Or perhaps it was simply how our brains work, holding on to someone’s wrongs more vividly than their kindness.
But somehow, those words didn’t apply to me.
Hundreds of beautiful memories, thousands of mistakes. Wrapped in beauty and multiplied torment, none of it could ever truly win.
Everything that had happened, none of it had ever managed to make the mistakes overshadow what we had. Beautiful memories. I didn’t only mean laughter, jokes, teasing, songs, and joy.
I meant the tears, too.
I remembered the day Bubble died. I cried on Zioh’s shoulder, and his tears soaked through my shoulder, warm and heavy.
When I was upset with my physics teacher, Zioh shared my anger, even though he had just won an international physics competition with that very teacher as his mentor.
When I kept failing, Zioh stayed up all night teaching me until my grades finally improved.
And when I was sick and alone at home, Zioh slept on the floor beside my bed, pressing cold compresses until morning.
The harder I tried to forget, the harder I ended up remembering.
Zioh used to be the eraser. He erased sadness, erased problems, erased anxiety, erased wounds.
Like a hero.
And yet, for some reason, now he’d become the pen. Writing sadness, inscribing wounds, sketching anxieties, etching pain.
Like a fallen hero.
I’d tried to deny it, but it was clear that my hero had changed into a fallen hero.
Deep down, I’d always known. Something was wrong—a poison staining him. It stole his light and dragged him into darkness, leaving him lost there for so long.
When I stepped out of the taxi a few seconds ago, rain lashed against me. My oversized hoodie and shorts had given me warmth, but now they clung to me, drenched and freezing.
It was late. And in this cold, wet, pitch-black night, I came here.
To one of the city parks in the middle of Jakarta.
I stumbled through the dark, frantic and directionless, turning left and right as if searching for something I’d lost. My chest was a storm as I sprinted through the rain, shouting, calling, my voice raw, and only my screams blended with the pouring rain.
“Zioh!!” I ran deeper into the park, down every path. My throat was raw from yelling, my vision blurred by the rain. I shivered but remained desperate to find someone.
Someone who made every beat in my heart like a blade to my chest. His voice had broken down over the phone, begging, crying, pleading to meet him at the park we used to spend time together. The pain I’d been drowning in all week vanished the second I listened to his broken voice.
The ache still lived inside me, but it was nothing compared to hearing him destroyed like that.
Because, since I’d known him, this was only the second time I’d ever heard him sound like that.
The first time had been what dragged me into this hell in the first place, and I couldn’t bear to listen to it again.
Because heroes never let themselves look weak. They only do when there is nothing left to hold on to.
Where was he?
My pulse thrummed violently against my throat; I could hardly breathe. “Zi! Zioh!”
Then, finally, a shadow emerged by the swings, standing still and drenched to the bone.
I squinted through the rain. “Zi?” My voice cracked, nearly swallowed by the storm.
I wiped the rain from my face to see him properly, my body moving of its own accord. Step by step, I closed the distance until I stood right behind him. Reaching for his arm, I let out a word, my voice trembling with every syllable. “Z-Zi?” I tug, a silent plea in the motion. “Z-Zioh… hey…”
My hand shook from the cold, but his skin was even colder when I touched it. His arm felt like ice beneath my palm. He wore a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants soaked through.
When Zioh turned around, I held my breath. It reminded me of when I found him at that hotel, but this time it was worse. His gaze was empty and red, his face pale and drawn, his wet hair a disheveled mess. His whole body shivered, yet he stood, frozen.
I swallowed.
The rain lashed against my face, but I kept my eyes on him. “Zioh…” My hands clutched both his arms, shaking them, desperate for him to respond. But he didn’t move, speak, or even blink.
My pulse raced. I glanced around, desperate to find something: shelter, a person, a taxi, anything. But there was nothing. No one. Only us in this downpour.
Looking back, I gripped his shoulders tighter, shaking him to rouse him. My voice quivered, calling his name. “Zi…” I pleaded. “Let’s… Let’s find shelter first—”
“Tshabina.” His voice cut in, hoarse, cracked. And for the first time, his eyes stirred, trembling. His lips shivered as he looked at me.
“What should I do…” His whisper was ragged. Slowly, his hands lifted, clutching my shoulders, firm, trembling. I could feel the chill of his touch seep through my soaked hoodie, and beneath the rain, I knew he was crying. His tears mixed with the downpour.
My heart sank, and I couldn’t hold my own tears back.
They fell, mingling with the storm. I placed my hands over his, gripping tightly, meeting his broken gaze. “What’s wrong, Zi?” My voice cracked, soft, pleading. “Oh my Gosh… w-what happened…?”
Zioh shook his head hard, his grip tightened as panic flickered in his bloodshot eyes. “Please…” His voice broke into sobs. “Tell them to stop.” His words stumbled out between shallow breaths. “Tell them… to shut up.”
He pulled me closer, his gaze locked on mine. “I can’t do this anymore,” he choked, shaking again. “I give up, Tshabina…” His voice was raw, scraped thin by panic. “Help me… I-I’m starting to fear that I can’t even see you the way you are anymore.”
“Shhh… Zi—” I tried to soothe him, though my voice shook.
“Why?” His cry cracked. “Why do they have to torture me, Tshabina?” His chest rose and fell in quick, shallow breaths.
My head spun. I had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t know what to do—except that every instinct in me screamed to calm him.
“Why?” His sobs turned bitter, laced with anguish. “Why does my dad want to steal every bit of good in me?”
My mouth opened and closed. “Shh… it’s okay, Zi,” I whispered. “It’s okay…”
I cupped his cold, rain-soaked cheek, and my palm brushed his clammy skin. He shook violently, as if hypothermia were only moments away. We couldn’t stay here; we’d collapse if we did. “What can I do, Zi?” My voice cracked into the storm. “No… what should I do?”
He didn’t answer right away. For a long moment, he stared at me, clutching my shoulders as if it was the only thing keeping him upright.
Finally, his lips parted. His voice was barely audible. “Take me…” His whisper trembled. “Please… just… take me away.”
And then his head dropped onto my shoulder, his weight heavy, and he collapsed into me.
My arms wrapped around him, holding tight, holding all that brokenness against me.
I bit my lip hard to stifle my own sobs, stroked his back before pulling away enough to look at him.
“Let’s get out of here first, okay? Did you bring your car? ”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even flinch. My eyes darted around from side to side, but there was no sign of his car. But then, there, a taxi idled not far off. Relief burst in me, and I shouted. “Taxi!”
Grabbing his hand, I tugged gently. “Come on, Zi.” My tone softens, coaxed him as if he were a frightened child. “It’s okay. I’ll take you, alright?”
I guided him through the rain towards the cab, pulling him with me.
Inside the car, we were drenched and shivering. I could have cried with gratitude when the driver handed us a small towel. Without thinking, my hands moved on their own and began to dry Zioh’s hair.
“Where to, Miss?” the driver asked.
“To a—” As I was about to mention his home address, my voice caught. His hand stopped me.
I met his wide, trembled eyes, and his voice was sharp and low. “Don’t.” He shook his head. “Please… anywhere but not there.
I hesitated, searching his eyes. “Where then? Where do you want me to take you?”
Silence. He closed his eyes for a moment, and his lip caught between his teeth as though he was wrestling with the thought. Finally, he exhaled. “Penthouse.”
He glanced forward, speaking to the driver, his voice rough but steadier. “To Danubuwono Residence, please.”
The taxi rolled forward, and the relentless rain hammered harder against the roof, drowning out everything else.
I kept drying Zioh’s hair with the little towel, even though he seemed absent.
His gaze remained hollow, lost somewhere I couldn’t follow.
One of his AirPods was still in place, the other missing. What happened to him…?
When he finally looked at me, that vacant stare anchored me in place, a physical weight freezing my limbs, while the towel was still clutched in my hand.
Slowly, he reached out, brushing against my cheek to wipe away the lingering raindrops. His fingers were ice-cold, yet his gaze carried warmth—made me feel as if I slipped back into the past.
His eyes flicked to the towel in my hand. Then, gently, he took it from me. Turning the gesture around, he began to dry my hair instead, and his touch was achingly soft, so careful it made my chest tighten.
Our eyes met and held, and it felt the world had narrowed to the two of us for a moment—it warmed me from within despite the cold.
He moved lower, patting down the dampness on my neck and my hoodie. His movements were calm and tender. The sensation of his skin lightly touching mine made my body tremble. I blew out a shaky breath.
Then he draped the towel over my shoulders, enclosing both my hands in his and rubbing warmth into them. His gaze was deep and intent.
“I’ve been hurting you…” His voice cracked, raspy but deliberate. He looked down at my pale, trembling hands. “And… I still don’t know if I can stop.” The words pierced through me. My eyes burned with tears I fought to hold back.
He raised his gaze, locking onto mine with those reddened, quivering eyes. “They say… if it’s truly fate,” his voice dropped low, “no matter what we go through, the universe will always find a way to bring us back together.”
His grip tightened around my hands, his stare unwavering. “I want to believe that Tshabina.”
I bit my lip, trying to steady myself as the ache in my chest threatened to break me. I couldn’t meet his eyes right away, so I bowed my head, hiding the tremble of my lips, until I lifted my face again.
And he was closer.
So close now that his breath fanned against my skin, warm and laced with mint and a bitter scent. Alcohol. His hand cupped the side of my neck, and my whole body went rigid as he leaned in, inch by inch.
I forgot how to move. And I squeezed my eyes shut.
Closer. His warmth brushed nearer—
“Ahem.” The driver’s voice cut through the moment. “Miss, shall I take the toll road? Is that alright?”
My eyes flew open, and I stumbled back in my seat, heat flooding my cheeks. “Y-yes, sir, that’s fine,” I stammered.
But Zioh…
He didn’t move. His gaze hadn’t wavered from me, as if nothing had interrupted us.