I checked out and rented a car to go to Sidemen. The road to Sidemen twisted through green hills and golden light. We arrived at the valley just as the sun began to fall, washing Mount Agung in bronze. The rice terraces unfurled below us, endless ripples of green glistening under the last light. "Looks like a dream," he whispered, voice soft like the air itself.
We checked into a small bamboo villa that overlooked the paddies. The room smelled faintly of rain and lemongrass. Night folded around us gently, full of frogs and faraway laughter. I kept thinking: I made him up. But right now, he feels more alive than me.
The next morning, we hiked along the narrow trails between rice fields. Farmers waved at us, and dew clung to our ankles. He helped me climb slippery rocks until we reached the natural infinity pool at the top. From there, jungle softened into layers of mist. We dangled our feet in the cold water and watched the reflection flicker between sky and leaves. The distance between us was electric, sending current through my body. Why was I feeling like this? I could feel his gaze. When I looked at him, I could see that he was already looking at me—not sharp, not soft either, just steady enough to make my pulse stumble. I looked away first. But his gaze stayed on me. He was being unabashedly himself or...should I say 'myself' since I created him as I wanted him to be — in my image?
"We should get going," he said getting up in a hurry.
Feeling embarrassed, I agreed, "Yeah, let's go."
We decided to have dinner at a local restaurant. He pulled my chair like a gentleman, and I chucked at his behavior. I imagined him to be exactly like this. He sat across from me, studying the handwritten menu like it held secrets.
"What's lawar?" he asked, pointing to one of the dishes.
I leaned forward, watching his face in the warm lamplight. "Grated coconut mixed with vegetables and spiced meat. It sounds simple, but it's not." I pointed to where it was already written on the menu, "See?" The way he listened—so focused, like every word mattered—made me feel heard.
The owner's daughter brought us plates of nasi campur first—white rice surrounded by small portions of different dishes. There was ayam betutu (slow-cooked spiced chicken) and that lawar Caelum was curious about came as a side dish. Steam rose between us, creating a thin veil that made everything feel more intimate.
He picked up a piece of the chicken with his fingers, the way locals do. "This is incredible," he said, eyes closing for a moment as he ate the piece, "You taste it."
I shook my head rejecting it, but he was already extending his hand toward me, offering me a bite from his food that he had already taken a first bite of. The gesture was so natural, so warm, that I forgot to be nervous. The chicken was tender, infused with turmeric and lemongrass, but all I could focus on was the way his thumb brushed my lip as I took the bite.
"Good?" he asked, voice softer now.
I nodded, not trusting my voice. The spices lingered on my tongue, but the heat I felt had nothing to do with the heat from the spices. I often used to try this with Rhys but he always refused to eat in public places. Actually we never went to a restaurant alone. We were always accompanied with his friends. I felt like an extra but I had accepted my fate. So, when Caelum fed me with his hands, I was unsure what to do.
Later, when they brought us Bubur Injin – sweet black rice pudding with coconut milk—he tried to feed me again. This time I caught his wrist gently, stopping him.
"I can eat by myself," I whispered, but I didn't let go of his hand.
"I know you can." His thumb traced across my knuckles. "But this is more fun."
Around us, the place buzzed with quiet conversation and the clink of dishes, but it felt to me like we were the only two people in the world...although it was mostly me feeling these feelings because I was sure that he, 'being born just a few hours ago', won't be able to comprehend such complexities of life.
"You're not real," I said suddenly, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
He smiled—not sad, just knowing. "Does that change how this feels?"
I looked down at our joined hands, at the way my pulse quickened under his touch. "No," I admitted. "It doesn't."
****
The villa had two rooms. We retired to our beds at night. The night was not very calm, at least not in my heart. Lying in bed, I kept replaying everything—the way he looked at me across the table, the warmth when my hands were in his while trekking through the fields, the soft way he said my name. The way he took my bag without asking, fed me that bite of spiced chicken.
Every small thing became unbearable in its tenderness. Was this what falling in love felt like? Because my heart refused to slow down. I didn't have much to compare with because Rhys was the first person I dated and I never felt this way with him. With him, it was always a fear of losing him and thus me always feeling extra cautious.
After endless tossing, I gave up. The air felt too stuffy, my thoughts too loud. I went to the bathroom, only to notice the sound first...a low growl outside. It had started raining.
I stood by the window, watching lightning outline the rice terraces in flashes of silver. The cold and moist air made me shiver, I could feel my hair rising due to the cold on my uncovered arms. I rubbed the palms of my hands against my forearms in order to warm them up. The rain outside was becoming menacing, angrier. A thunderclap burst through, sharp and sudden. I flinched, hands flying up, but they didn't reach my ears.
Because someone else's hands were already there—warm, steady.
I turned slowly. He stood close—too close. "You're scared," he murmured.
"I'm not." My voice came out softer than I meant.
He didn't move his hands; he only smiled a little and came closer, his breath brushing my cheek. "You don't have to be. I am here."
And there, with rain trembling against the window and the cool dark of the room, I couldn't tell if my heart was racing from the sound of the loud thunder—or for him.