Rafael frowned, Idris's face was stern, and Saiful let out a slight chuckle.
Ela stepped forward and said,
"You three are getting a bit too serious. I still don't understand—what is it that you actually want?"
Then she pressed her lips into a teasing smile.
"Do you expect me to put a garland around one of your necks and say—'You've won!'
Or do you want me to cry like a movie heroine and whisper—'My heart belongs to one of you'?"
The three of them fell silent.
Ela shook her head slightly and said—
"You three are fools. Even I don't know what I truly want yet.
But one thing I do know—I won't let anyone else write my destiny."
Idris's eyes flickered with heat,
Rafael bit down on his lip,
Saiful looked down, but his eyes held understanding.
Ela spoke again,
"If you really want something, know what it is before you chase it.
Otherwise, I won't be your toy—or your story's heroine."
Then she turned around and walked away, without looking back.
Behind her remained three shadows—
None of them stopped her,
But they all understood—
If they were to follow this girl,
They would first have to change themselves.
The night sky was heavy, but the moon shone clearly.
Ela was walking alone through the quiet streets, the silence of the city almost embracing her.
There was no longer a storm inside her.
Instead, a strange kind of peace had settled in.
She thought of Idris's anger, Rafael's desires, and Saiful's quiet gaze.
Each of them demanded something from her, but none of them had asked—what does Ela want?
She asked herself—
"Am I searching for love?
Or am I just trying to reclaim control over my own life?"
She sat down on an old park bench and pulled out her phone.
She scrolled through old messages—Idris's harsh words, Rafael's poetry, Saiful's indifferent jokes.
Then she turned the phone off.
A soft breeze swept through her hair.
She closed her eyes.
From deep within her heart, a single thought rose—
"I will find myself first. Then I'll decide who I want beside me."
At that moment, a shooting star streaked across the sky.
Ela opened her eyes and looked up.
And silently, she whispered—
"I'll write my own story."
She ran her fingers through her hair as the wind played with it.
Just then, she sensed a shadow behind her.
Slowly, she turned—
Idris.
But this time, his eyes held no anger.
Only pain… and regret.