I took a deep breath, letting the Cilegon air fill my lungs. Enough. I was tired of being the girl who could only sit on a road divider, mourning a man's retreating back, and drowning in hallucinations of sakura that weren't even here.
I stood up, brushing off my school skirt which was soiled with asphalt dust. If love wouldn't come knocking at my door, then fine—I would be the one to go out and bring it home.
I remembered the blonde female characters in the anime I often watched. They never gave up.
They always had overflowing energy, wide smiles, and the courage to enter the life of even the darkest person.
Alright, I'll be just like them, I thought firmly.
I would become "that blonde girl." I would no longer wait for someone to illuminate this messy life of mine. Instead, I would be the one to find a man—whoever he might be, lost in his own darkness—and I would be the sun for him. I would shine upon his world until he had no choice but to look my way.
I ran my fingers through my blonde hair, letting it fly in the gusty afternoon wind. No more weary stares. I put on my best smile, a smile squeezed from the remnants of whatever courage I had left.
"Whoever you are," I whispered softly to the wind. "Get ready, because your sun has awakened."
I began to walk with a steady stride. Today, my melancholy drama officially ended. The new episode as the bringer of light had just begun.
***
That morning, Cilegon felt brighter than usual, or perhaps it was just Nazma's feeling. She sat at her desk with a soul that wasn't quite there.
Her fingers toyed with the ends of her blonde hair, which she had brushed neatly—free from yesterday's limp asphalt dust.
Nazma was composing a plan.
Her eyes narrowed slowly, forming secretive crescents.
The corners of her lips curled up slightly, creating a lopsided smile that looked both mischievous and full of resolve.
Every now and then she bit her lower lip, holding back laughter that nearly burst as she imagined the shocked faces—especially that guy's—when her new "light" hit them.
Her expression at that moment was exactly like a villainess in an anime who had just figured out how to win the game.
She was in no hurry; she savored every second of her planning at a very slow tempo, letting her imagination play with various scenarios.
Then, her target appeared. Zemiro walked in, looking cold and untouched as usual.
Nazma rose. This was the moment. She stepped forward, her hand already raised in the air, ready to land on the guy's shoulder with the coolest flair she could muster.
However, just as the distance between them was only a few inches, something strange happened.
Nazma's entire body suddenly went stiff, locked by an invisible force. Her legs felt as heavy as concrete, and her hand hung suspended in the air, frozen halfway.
Her pupils dilated in pure shock. Her breath caught in her throat, and amidst the silence of the classroom, she could hear a very loud noise coming from inside her own chest.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The drumming was not just fast, but so powerful it could be felt all the way to her fingertips. Her chest felt tight, as if her heart were trying to break its way out.
Nazma stood frozen, staring at Zemiro's back with a face that was rapidly turning a violent red. The plan to "become the sun," which had seemed so grand moments ago, suddenly vanished, swallowed by that paralyzing physical sensation.
With the remnants of her strength and an immense effort, Nazma's hand finally managed to move.
Tap.
She patted Zemiro's shoulder. It wasn't hard, but it was enough to shatter the silence.
Zemiro flinched. His shoulders rose slightly, showing signs that he had truly been jolted from his own deep reverie. The boy slowly turned his body, met Nazma with his usual flat gaze, but this time there was a slight ripple in his eyes.
"Startled," Zemiro said shortly.
His voice was low, yet to Nazma's ears—with a heart still racing wildly—the sound felt like a clap of thunder that left her even more powerless.