Between Two Hearts

Frans stepped out of Viona's house with his head bowed. His hands were clenched at his sides, and his eyes felt hot. The moment the door behind him closed, he could no longer hold everything in.

Tears fell from his eyes.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself, but his chest felt so tight. This was not what he had hoped for. He came here to try again, to show that he had fought for them, that he wanted to keep Viona.

He had even stood up to his family. He tried to convince them that he wanted to be with Viona, not Calista. He had fought with his father, debated with his mother, and even rejected all plans for engagement.

But now, it seemed that all of that wasn't enough.

Viona no longer wanted him.

His steps wavered as he walked away from the house. The rain began to fall slowly, making the air even colder. But Frans didn't care. He let the rain soak his face, mingling with the tears that continued to stream down.

He felt defeated.

Not because of his family. Not because of circumstances.

But because Viona had chosen to let him go.

And that was more painful than anything he had ever felt.

Frans continued walking aimlessly, letting his mind sink into all the chaos that had just occurred. The rain fell harder, but he didn't care. His thoughts drifted back to Calista—the girl his family now hoped would become his fiancée.

Calista was his childhood friend. They used to play together often, but that was only in the past. Since childhood, Calista had been studying abroad, only occasionally returning to Indonesia for vacations. Their memories stopped in childhood—playing in the backyard of their families' houses, sharing candies, running in the rain.

But after that?

They grew apart. There were no teenage stories together, no exchanges of messages, no truly close relationship. Then suddenly, after years, their families wanted them together. As if childhood was enough to make them the perfect couple.

Frans didn't hate Calista. She was kind, smart, and friendly. But she was not Viona.

And the problem was, now Viona didn't want him either.

Frans stopped walking, staring up at the dark sky. His breath felt heavy.

Is this the end? Does he really have to give up?

Or… is there still something he can do?

Frans opened his hotel room door with heavy steps. His clothes were still wet from the rain, and his mind was as chaotic as his feelings. Just as he was about to take off his jacket, there was a knock at the door.

Reluctantly, he walked over and opened it.

Calista stood before him with a slight smile, holding a bottle of wine in her hand. She wore an elegant navy satin dress, her long hair cascading neatly down.

"You're soaked," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Did you get caught in the rain?"

Frans sighed softly. "I just needed some fresh air."

Calista looked at him for a moment, then without being invited, entered the room. She casually closed the door behind her, as if it weren't her first time coming.

"Looks like we're in the same hotel," she said lightly as she lifted the wine bottle. "I thought we could have a drink. You seem like you need something to calm down."

Frans remained silent, staring at Calista with an unreadable expression. He knew she wasn't the type to force things, but she wasn't the type to give up easily either.

Calista set the wine bottle down on a small table near the sofa, then turned to him. "Do you want to talk?" she asked softly. "About her?"

Frans bit his lip, then walked toward the window, staring at the rain that continued to pour.

"She doesn't want me anymore," he finally said. "I tried, Cal… but she chose to leave."

Calista approached him, standing beside him. "So, what will you do now?"

Frans didn't answer. He stared blankly outside, his mind still in turmoil.

And for the first time, he didn't know what to do.

Calista looked at Frans with understanding. There was a softness in her gaze, something she rarely showed in front of others.

"I know this is hard," she said softly. "But you need time, Frans. Don't force yourself to make a decision right now."

Frans exhaled, glancing at her briefly. At that moment, he really saw Calista.

Calista was almost the perfect person. She had classic and elegant beauty—her skin as smooth as porcelain, her eyes sharp with golden-brown hues radiating confidence. Her long hair was always neatly styled, shining like a model in a shampoo commercial.

In terms of career, she was no ordinary person. At her young age, she was already known as a talented marketer often invited to speak at various business seminars. She had vast insights, exceptional speaking skills, and undeniable charm. People admired her not just for her looks but for her intelligence.

With Calista, Frans could see a guaranteed future. He knew if he chose Calista, everything would be easier. His family would fully support him, their business would thrive, and he wouldn't have to struggle alone anymore.

But why did his heart still feel empty?

Calista smiled slightly, as if understanding his thoughts. She gently patted his shoulder.

"My family won't force you," she continued. "They just want what's best for you, but the decision is still yours."

Frans stared at her for a long time, trying to find answers in her words.

But one thing was certain—despite Calista being almost perfect, she was not Viona.

Calista smiled faintly and then gracefully lifted her wine glass. Her sharp eyes looked at Frans with confidence, as if reading his every thought.

"You know, Frans," she said playfully, "if I really wanted to, I could win the heart of the young doctor too."

Frans chuckled softly, even though his eyes still hinted at fatigue. "Oh really?"

Calista nodded, tilting her head with a teasing expression. "Of course. I'm the complete package—beautiful, smart, with a brilliant career. Your family likes me, and more importantly..." she leaned in slightly, gazing deeper into Frans's eyes, "I will never make you feel alone."

Frans sighed, staring at his full glass. He knew Calista wasn't joking entirely. Behind her playful tone, there was a hint of seriousness.

"But the problem isn't about who can win whom, Lis," he finally said. "The problem is, where does my heart lie?"

Calista fell silent for a moment, then smiled again—a smile that wasn't entirely cheerful. She raised her glass, inviting Frans to toast.

"If that's the case," she said softly, "I hope one day you can find that answer."

Frans looked at her, then without saying anything more, he raised his glass and clinked it against Calista's.

Yet in his heart, he wondered… was that answer truly still out there for him?

That night, in the luxurious yet eerily quiet hotel room, Frans and Calista unwittingly finished two bottles of wine without realizing how much they had consumed.

Glass after glass, their laughter became more free. The conversation that had started light began to shift, becoming deeper and more honest.

"You know, Frans…" Calista leaned back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling with half-closed eyes. "I didn't expect we would end up here."

Frans, sitting beside her, could only smile wryly. His head felt heavy, his thoughts increasingly blurred, but one thing was clear—the pain in his heart still remained.

"You've always been like a little prince," Calista continued, chuckling softly. "Remembered by everyone, beloved by family, with big dreams. And now, look at you… a talented young doctor, handsome, successful..."

"But losing something important," Frans softly interjected.

Calista turned to him, her eyes gazing deep into his. "Viona?"

Frans didn't respond. He merely picked up his glass again, gulping down the remaining wine.

Calista sighed, then smiled faintly. She shifted closer, touching Frans's hand that lay on the sofa.

"You're too hard on yourself," she said in a soft voice, almost a whisper. "If I were Viona, I wouldn't be able to stay mad at you forever."

Frans stared at Calista's hand touching his, but he didn't pull away. He only let out a long breath and leaned back on the sofa with his eyes closed.

"I'm tired, Lis," he murmured. "Tired of thinking about all of this."

Calista smiled faintly. She knew Frans was at his lowest point.

That night, without further words, they let the alcohol take over. Two people who were both weary, both searching for something to fill the emptiness in their hearts.

Until finally, in the silence of the night and the empty bottles on the table, the world felt a little lighter—if only for a moment.