Staying is easy to say.
Understanding what it means is something else entirely.
After that day at the restaurant, nothing went back to the way it was.
It didn't become more complicated.
It became more careful.
More real.
We started seeing each other again.
Not as often as before. Not as recklessly as before.
Gilang no longer showed up everywhere without warning. He no longer followed me home like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And somehow, I was the one who started noticing the gaps.
"You're quieter now," I said one afternoon as we walked past the campus gate.
He glanced at me briefly. "You asked for that."
"I didn't ask you to disappear halfway."
"I didn't."
"It feels like it."
He didn't respond right away.
That was becoming his habit.
Not avoidance.
Just... choosing his words more carefully than before.
"I'm trying not to make you uncomfortable," he said finally.
Something about that made my chest tighten.
"I never said you made me uncomfortable all the time."
"You didn't have to."
I looked away, exhaling slowly. "You take things too literally."
"And you don't say things clearly enough."
I almost argued.
Almost.
But I stopped myself.
Because for once, he wasn't entirely wrong.
There were still things I didn't understand about him.
Things he never explained.
Things I wasn't sure I had the right to ask.
Like the month he disappeared.
I had tried, once.
"Where did you go?" I asked casually, as if it didn't matter.
"Somewhere I needed to be," he replied.
"That's vague."
"I know."
"You're not going to tell me?"
"No."
Just like that.
No hesitation.
No apology.
I should have been annoyed.
But I wasn't.
Not exactly.
Because there was something in the way he said it.
Not defensive.
Not dismissive.
Just... closed.
And I didn't know how to open something he kept locked so carefully.
I had asked his friends too.
Casually.
Carefully.
"Have you seen Gilang last month?" I said one day, pretending to scroll through my phone.
They exchanged glances.
"Not really," one of them answered.
"He didn't show up much."
"You guys didn't ask him?"
"We did," another replied. "He just said he had things to take care of."
"That's it?"
I studied their faces.
Too normal.
Too neutral.
Like they genuinely didn't know.
Or like they were choosing not to.
For a moment, a thought crossed my mind.
Did he ask them not to tell me?
The idea stayed longer than I wanted.
I pushed it away.
That kind of thinking would only lead me somewhere I didn't want to go.
"Maybe I'm overthinking," I whispered to myself later.
Maybe I should just trust him.
Or at least... try to.
"Lusiana..."
I looked up.
Gilang was watching me, his expression unreadable.
"You've been quiet," he said.
"So have you."
"That's different."
"Everything is different with you," I replied.
A faint smile touched his lips. "You're just noticing now?"
I shook my head. "No. I've always noticed. I just didn't think about it this much."
"And now you do?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
The question lingered.
I could have given him an easy answer.
I didn't.
"Because you matter more now," I said quietly.
He didn't react immediately.
But I saw it.
That slight shift in his eyes.
Like something in him softened, just for a second.
I wanted to understand him.
Not just the version he showed me.
But the parts he kept hidden.
Like why he didn't live with his parents anymore.
It slipped into my thoughts more often than I liked.
I had seen him once, standing outside a quiet neighborhood, staring at a house he didn't enter.
"You're not going in?" I asked that day.
He shook his head. "Not today."
"Do you live here?"
"No."
"Your family?"
I paused.
"Yeah."
That was all he said.
And I didn't ask more.
Not because I didn't want to.
But because I was afraid of the answer.
That night, I found myself imagining things I had no right to imagine.
Meeting his parents.
Standing in a living room that wasn't mine.
Trying to be someone they would accept.
"Stop," I muttered, pressing my face into my pillow. "You're thinking too far."
But my mind didn't listen.
What if they didn't like me?
What if I wasn't enough?
What if this ended the same way it did before?
I remembered my past.
The quiet disapproval.
The unspoken rejection.
The way it slowly broke something I thought was certain.
"I'm not going through that again," I whispered.
And yet... here I was.
Still walking toward something uncertain.
"You're thinking again."
I blinked, pulled back into the present.
Gilang was sitting across from me at the cafeteria, watching me the same way he used to.
Only this time, it felt different.
Less intrusive.
More... attentive.
"You always know," I said.
"You're easy to read."
"That's not a good thing."
"It's not a bad thing either."
I sighed, poking at my food.
"Do you ever think about the future?"
"Sometimes."
"Like what?"
He leaned back slightly, considering the question.
"Things I haven't figured out yet."
"That's not an answer."
"It is for me."
I frowned. "You're impossible."
"You keep saying that."
"Because it's true."
He almost smiled.
"Gilang."
"Yeah?"
"If something's wrong... you can tell me."
His expression shifted slightly.
Not closed.
Not open either.
Just... careful.
"I know."
"Then why don't you?"
A pause.
Then, quietly, "Because not everything is yours to carry."
The words caught me off guard.
"I'm not trying to carry everything," I said.
"I know."
"Then let me in."
He held my gaze for a long moment.
Long enough for my heartbeat to pick up.
Long enough for me to realize this mattered more than I expected.
"I'm trying," he said finally.
"Trying what?"
"To figure out how."
That answer stayed with me.
I leaned back, exhaling slowly.
"Fine," I said. "I won't force you."
"You don't have to."
"I know."
Another silence.
But this one didn't feel distant.
It felt... unfinished.
"If you ever need help," I added softly. "I'm here."
He nodded once. "I know."
"I mean it."
"I know."
I studied him, searching for something more.
Something clearer.
Something certain.
But Gilang was never easy to read completely.
And maybe that was the point.
I smiled faintly, shaking my head.
"You're still stubborn."
"And you're still trying to fix things."
"I'm not fixing you."
"I didn't say you were."
"Good."
Because I wasn't sure if I could.
Or if I even should.
We sat there a little longer, the noise of the cafeteria fading into the background.
For a moment, everything felt... steady.
Not perfect.
Not resolved.
But steady enough to stay.
Still, as I walked home later that evening, one thought refused to leave me.
There was something in Gilang's life he wasn't telling me.
Something that pulled him away for a month without explanation.
Something that kept him standing outside his own house instead of walking in.
And somehow, I knew.
Whatever it was...
It hadn't ended yet.