I have a headache. A massive one.
And no, it's not because of the weather, dehydration, or lack of sleep.
It's because my brain has decided to make September 18 the most important date in human history.
Really, Dika?
Seriously?
After everything we've been through, this is what we're doing now?
Let me remind you of something.
He is coming back to Indonesia because he needs a favor.
That's it.
He is not coming back because he wants to see you.
He is not coming back because he suddenly misses the good old days.
He is not coming back because he spent the last year lying awake at night, staring at the ceiling, whispering your name while sad music played in the background.
Please. Get a grip. 😂
He needs something from you. And suddenly, one message from him has sent your brain into full investigative-journalist mode.
Why is he coming? Why does he need me?
What will happen when I see him? Will he want to talk?
Will things feel different? Could this be a chance to fix things?
Dika. STOP.
Read the message again.
Where was: Hello? Nowhere.
How are you? Nope.
How have you been? Also missing.
I miss you. HAHA. No.
There wasn't even a courtesy “Hope you're doing okay.”
Just straight to the point. He needs a favor.
And somehow, your heart saw that and thought:
“Perhaps this is the beginning of our reconciliation arc.”
Girl. What are we drinking? Because apparently it's strong.
The facts haven't changed. He told you he lost the chemistry.
He told you he lost the spark. He told you there was nothing in common anymore.
Those weren't hints. Those weren't riddles. Those were actual words.
Painful words, yes. But clear ones. And he also said he won't divorce you unless you ask him to.
So what exactly are you hoping to discover on September 18?
A secret message hidden between the lines?
A sudden change of heart? A dramatic realization?
A spontaneous romantic awakening?
Please remember that real life doesn't usually work like that.
And honestly, if it did, my life would have a much better writing budget.
Maybe you need to accept the possibility that, in his mind, you're simply his legal wife. On paper. A status. A responsibility.
Someone connected to him legally, but no longer emotionally.
And yes. That hurts. It hurts like hell.
But pretending otherwise isn't going to change it.
You can't make someone give you their heart.
You can't make someone miss you.
You can't make someone feel chemistry.
And you definitely can't turn a favor into a declaration of love just because your heart desperately wants a different ending.
So, Dika… Breathe.
September 18 is a date. Not a prophecy.
He is coming. You will see him.
And then? You'll find out. Maybe he'll be warm.
Maybe he'll be distant. Maybe you'll talk.
Maybe you won't. Maybe it'll be awkward.
Maybe it'll be surprisingly normal. Maybe you'll feel something.
Maybe you'll feel nothing.
And maybe that's the most important thing you'll discover.
Because after all this time, maybe the real test isn't whether he still wants you.
Maybe it's whether you still want the version of him you've been holding onto in your head.
That's a different question.
And maybe one day, you'll realize that the man you miss isn't necessarily the man standing in front of you anymore.
Maybe you miss the memories. The familiarity.
The feeling of being loved. The feeling of belonging somewhere.
And that's okay.
But don't confuse missing those things with needing him back.
So, please. Stop turning one favor into a romantic comeback tour.
Stop analyzing punctuation. Stop replaying the message.
Stop planning conversations that haven't happened.
And for God's sake, stop checking the calendar every five minutes.
September will come. You'll see him.
And you'll survive it. You survived the silence.
You survived the painful words. You survived the heartbreak.
You survived yourself when you thought you couldn't.
So whatever happens on September 18… you'll survive that too.
Now take an aspirin. And leave the imaginary screenplay alone.
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