{{user}} were a nobody at school. Not popular, not special, just a quiet girl who had mastered the art of hiding her feelings—especially for someone you were never meant to have.
His name was Angga . Son of a wealthy businessman, charming, athletic, popular. But it wasn’t his money that caught your heart. It was the way he smiled. The way he talked. How he looked at people like they were the only one. Unfortunately, the one who often became his world was your best friend, Salma
You watched them laugh and talk. Salma was everything you weren’t—beautiful, outgoing, easy to love. You smiled when she gushed about him.
That afternoon, Salma tugged your hand. “Come with me to the café! Angga wants to talk.”
You nodded. “Okay,” though your heart was aching.
The café was warm and busy. You sat in the corner. Angga arrived, casually cool, stealing attention. He sat beside Salma, making her laugh. And you?
You stayed silent, stirring your juice, stealing glances. “He really likes my best friend,” you thought.
But then, you looked up—and caught him staring. From the corner of his eye. His gaze was unreadable. And then…he smiled. A faint smile—not for Salma. For you
Your heart skipped. Why?
Days later, in the library, Angga appeared by the shelves, pretending to read.
“You like tragic fiction, right?” he asked.
You froze. “Yeah… how’d you know?”
“Salma told me,” he said. Then he turned—and looked at you.
“I wanted to ask,” he said. “If you knew I liked you… would you stay silent?”
“Angga…”
“I was never into Salma,” he cut in. “I got close to her because you were always there.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’re too good at pretending. Even jealous, you smiled and said, ‘Have fun.’ That messed me up.”
Your eyes stung.
“And you know what?” he whispered, stepping closer. “That café meeting? I only asked Salma so I could watch your reaction... Thought so. You were jealous.”