"Alright," Pak Dani broke the awkward silence that had lingered just a fraction too long after Cantika's intervention, his voice cutting cleanly through the charged air in the room. "I appreciate your presentation, Pranata. The analysis is quite comprehensive for this assignment level. There are several aspects that need deeper exploration, especially the P-Delta analysis and the sensitivity of the R value selection, as we've discussed. But overall, good work. The documentation is clear, and the delivery is quite good."
For a brief second, I just stood there, frozen in place, as if my brain needed extra time to process what I had just heard. The words echoed inside my head—good work, clear documentation, good delivery—looping again and again, trying to overwrite the fear that had dominated my thoughts since morning. My chest, which had been tight like a steel clamp, slowly loosened.
"I almost staggered. "Thank you very much, Sir."
My voice sounded hoarse even to my own ears, like it had been dragged across gravel. But I didn't care. The most important thing was that I didn't collapse in front of him. Not after everything. Not after Akmal's attack. Not after that moment where everything could have gone wrong.
"The grades will be announced tomorrow along with the other assignments. Next participant!" Pak Dani had already moved on, his attention shifting to the next name on the list as if nothing extraordinary had just happened.
Just like that. Finished.
No applause. No dramatic closing. Just the brutal efficiency of an academic battlefield where survival was the only reward.
I nodded slightly, even though he was no longer looking at me, then turned around slowly. My legs felt strangely light, almost numb, like I had just run a marathon without realizing it. I unplugged my Sony Vaio laptop from the projector with hands that were still trembling slightly. The cable slipped once, then twice, before I finally managed to pull it out properly.
Focus, Randi. Don't look weak.
I gathered my report, stacked the transparencies carefully, and slipped everything into my bag. Every movement felt deliberate, controlled, like I was trying to maintain an image of calm even though inside my chest everything was still vibrating from the adrenaline.
As I stepped out of the room, the atmosphere outside hit me like a wave. The corridor was brighter, noisier, more alive. It felt like stepping out of a pressure chamber.
"Damn, you held off that Parking King's attack, Ran!" Irfan's voice came from the side, followed by a firm pat on my shoulder that almost knocked me forward.
I forced a small grin. "Barely."
"Barely? You didn't even flinch, man!" another classmate added, laughing. "And that girl—whoa. That was like a movie scene. Perfect timing."
"Your girl was awesome, saving you like that!" someone else chimed in, not even bothering to lower his voice.
I didn't respond immediately. My eyes were already scanning the corridor, searching for one person.
And there she was.
Cantika stood near the end of the corridor, close to a wide window where sunlight poured in, outlining her figure with a soft glow. She wasn't doing anything dramatic—just standing there, holding her bag strap with one hand—but her presence felt grounding. Solid. Real.
When our eyes met, she smiled.
Relief. Pure, quiet relief.
I walked toward her without thinking, weaving past a few classmates who were still talking about the presentation, about Akmal, about everything that had just happened.
"Tik…" I started, stopping in front of her. For a moment, words failed me completely. Everything I wanted to say—thank you, you saved me, I owe you—got stuck somewhere between my chest and my throat. "You… I… Thank you so much. You saved me in there."
She smiled wider, but there was a hint of shyness in it, like she didn't fully want to take credit. "Your presentation was good, Randi. I just stated the facts. The revised data was indeed just given to my group by Pak Andi yesterday afternoon."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small bottle of mineral water, extending it toward me. "Here, drink first. Your voice was hoarse."
I took the bottle, my fingers brushing hers for a brief second.
Cold. Electric. Familiar.
"Thanks," I muttered, unscrewing the cap and taking a long drink. The water felt ridiculously refreshing, like it washed away not just dryness, but tension, fear, everything that had been building since morning.
"How did you know?" I asked after lowering the bottle.
"Kak Dea texted me earlier," she replied. "She said Akmal went into your presentation room. I rushed here immediately. When I came in, he was already attacking your soil data." She exhaled softly, her brows knitting together. "That was too much."
"I know," I said quietly, tightening my grip on the bottle. The memory of Akmal's voice, his tone, his calculated attack—it still burned. "He won't stop until I'm destroyed, Tik."
The words came out harsher than I intended. But they were honest.
Cantika looked at me, her expression shifting. The softness didn't disappear, but it was layered now with something stronger. Resolve.
"We'll fight it, Randi," she said firmly. "Like yesterday. With good work and evidence. Just like what you proved to Pak Dani."
There was no hesitation in her voice. No doubt. Just clarity.
It steadied me more than anything else could have.
She paused for a moment, then added, "By the way, my group's presentation went smoothly. Pak Surya was satisfied with the organic soil parameter analysis." A small smile returned. "Thanks to you too."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding. "Thank God. We won today."
She nodded slightly. "Won the battle. The war isn't over."
Her eyes drifted for a second toward the far end of the corridor, toward the direction of the parking lot, as if she could still sense Akmal's presence somewhere out there.
That tension… it hadn't disappeared. It had just shifted shape.
"How are you going home?" she asked, turning her attention back to me.
"Motorcycle."
She adjusted her bag strap. "Can I hitch a ride to the station first? Mom's picking me up there."
"Of course," I answered immediately. Too quickly, maybe. "Let's go."
We walked side by side down the corridor, neither of us saying much. The noise of campus life surrounded us—students chatting, footsteps echoing, the distant hum of motorcycles—but it all felt like background static.
My focus kept drifting to small things.
The way her steps matched mine.
The way she held her bag close to her side.
The faint scent of her shampoo that lingered when the wind passed between us.
We reached the parking area, where my Honda Nova Sonic waited under the shade of a tree. I handed her the spare helmet, which she accepted with a quiet "Thanks," before putting it on carefully, adjusting the strap under her chin.
"Ready?" I asked.
She nodded.
The engine roared to life beneath me, familiar and grounding. I pulled out slowly, merging into the flow of traffic leaving campus.
At first, there was a small gap between us.
Then, as we picked up speed, I felt it.
Her hand.
Resting lightly on my waist.
Not gripping tightly. Not hesitant. Just… there. Natural.
My breath hitched for a split second, but I didn't react. I just focused on the road ahead, on the steady rhythm of the engine, on the wind brushing against my face.
We didn't talk much during the ride.
Occasionally, she leaned slightly closer to point a direction. "Turn left here… shortcut." Or, "Go straight, less traffic."
Her voice was close to my ear each time, soft but clear over the engine noise.
The silence between those moments wasn't empty. It was full—of everything that had happened, everything that hadn't been said, everything that was still building quietly beneath the surface.
The streets of Depok were busier now, filled with angkot, motorcycles, and cars weaving through each other in controlled chaos. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the road, turning everything slightly golden.
It should have felt ordinary.
But it didn't.
Something had shifted.
By the time we reached the station, the traffic had thinned slightly. I slowed down and pulled over near the entrance, parking carefully to the side.
She got off first, removing the helmet and handing it back to me. Her hair was slightly messy now, a few strands escaping her ponytail, but somehow that made her look even more real.
"Thanks, Randi," she said, straightening her clothes. "Be careful on the way."
"Yeah," I replied, holding the helmet. "Thanks again for everything, Tik. Seriously."
I wanted to say more.
I didn't.
She smiled, and this time it reached her eyes fully. "You're welcome. Let me know your grade from Pak Dani tomorrow, okay?"
"Of course."
"Bye!"
She turned and walked toward a white sedan that had just pulled up near the curb. The door opened, and she slipped inside without looking back.
And just like that, she was gone.
I stayed there for a few seconds longer than necessary, staring at the empty space where she had been, replaying everything in my head.
Her voice.
Her smile.
The way she stood up for me without hesitation.
The way she said "we."
I shook my head slightly, snapping myself out of it, then put on my helmet and started the engine again.
The sound of the Nova Sonic filled the space around me, grounding me back in reality.
I pulled out into the road, merging into the flow of traffic once more. The city moved around me, alive and relentless, but my mind was somewhere else entirely.
I slipped my earphones in under the helmet and turned on my MP3 player.
Peterpan.
"Mungkin Nanti…"
The familiar melody filled my ears, blending with the hum of the engine and the rush of the wind.
I smiled.
Maybe later.
Maybe later there would still be many things to face.
The gossip that refused to die.
Akmal's anger that had clearly not reached its peak.
New assignments, new pressures, new battles.
But today…
Today, I didn't lose.
I held my ground.
I survived.
And more than that—I didn't do it alone.
Cantika's presence lingered in my mind, stronger than the memory of Akmal's glare, stronger than the fear that had haunted me since this whole mess started.
That feeling of "us"…
It wasn't just comfort anymore.
It was strength.
I revved the motorcycle slightly, accelerating as the road opened up ahead of me. The afternoon sun dipped lower, casting everything in a warmer, softer light.
Today's war was won.
But like Cantika said, this was just one battle.
Akmal wasn't done.
Not even close.
And if I was being honest with myself, neither was I.
There would be another confrontation. Another moment where things could break or be rebuilt completely.
The difference now was simple.
I wasn't walking into it alone.
I tightened my grip on the handlebar, eyes focused forward as the road stretched out in front of me.
Tomorrow would come.
And when it did…
I'd be ready.