Between Two Cities (English Version)


Title: Between Two Cities

(English Version)

By: Vitto Andrew Sampouw


Chapter 1 — A Familiar Face, a Different Heart

Jakarta’s always loud. Always hot. Always alive. But somehow that week, it felt calmer.
Maybe it was me who’d changed.
I had just flown in from abroad — took a break from college. It wasn’t a planned vacation, more like… a quiet escape. I was supposed to head to Bandung in a few days for a family trip, but I stayed in Jakarta first. Just to breathe.

My girlfriend was still in Singapore. We were in a long-distance relationship — both of us studying overseas. It wasn’t easy, but we were solid. Our families knew. We made it work.

Then, something unexpected happened. I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in years — my first love.
She hadn’t changed much. Still the same laugh, the same calm voice. We caught up for a bit — nothing deep, just light small talk. At one point, I asked, “Are you still close with that guy you used to like?”

She smiled. “We’re just friends now.”

And that was that. No spark, no drama. Just a quiet, familiar warmth. Like opening an old book and remembering how it used to make you feel — but realizing you don’t need to read it again.

That chapter? Closed.
Because I already knew who my story was with now.

A few days later, back in Jakarta, I was prepping for Bandung — car rental, snacks for the road, playlists. I was still texting my girlfriend every night.

Then one night, she texted:

“I miss you. I wanna come.”

I paused.
“To Jakarta?”

“Yeah. I wanna join the trip.”

She booked her ticket immediately. I rented a car and drove from Bandung to the airport. It was early morning when she landed at Soekarno-Hatta. Her eyes looked tired, but the moment I saw her, it felt like everything aligned again.

“I’m so hungry,” she said, half-laughing.

“Me too,” I said, smiling.

And just like that, we were together again — not through phone screens, but for real this time.

Chapter 2 — Padang Food & Peaceful Roads

First stop? Food.
She missed Indonesian food so bad. We found this small Padang restaurant near the hotel. Basic place — metal trays, plastic chairs, but that spicy aroma? Instant comfort.
She went all in. Rendang, telur balado, sambal ijo. She ate like someone who’d been away for too long.

“This is what I’ve been craving,” she said with her mouth half-full, smiling like a kid.

And I just sat there watching her.
Sometimes happiness is just a full plate and someone worth sharing it with.

After eating, we drove straight to Bandung.
She fell asleep along the way — out cold from the early flight. I drove while glancing at her every now and then through the mirror.
She looked peaceful.
And for once, so did my thoughts.

We checked into a cozy little hotel in Dago. Warm lights, wooden floors, clean sheets — nothing fancy, but it felt just right. She stayed at my aunt’s house that night, sharing a room with my cousin like we’d planned.

The next day was full of little joys — rooftop coffee in Lembang, old music, shared fries.
But the part that stood out most?

Braga.
Braga felt like a movie. Narrow streets. Vintage buildings. Street art that made you stop and stare. We strolled past bookstores and old vinyl shops. Sat in a tiny café with jazz playing in the background. She ordered toast and hot chocolate.

I snapped a photo of her mid-laugh.

She caught me.
“Delete that! I look awful!”

She didn’t.
She looked exactly like the kind of memory I’d want to keep.

That night, we sat on the hotel balcony. The air was cool, the lights from the city glowing quietly below us. She leaned her head on my shoulder — not needing to talk, not needing to ask anything.

“In two days, we’re heading to Jogja, right?” she said softly.

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It’s all set.”

She smiled.
And I realized — this was the kind of moment I used to hope for.
No drama. No questions.
Just presence.

No longer caught between the past and the future.

Just us.

Here.

Between two cities.

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