Sarah Wardiansyah
17/10/2026
Image description: two hands brushing together at the knuckles set against a light blue backdrop.
Two months. You have two months.
The doctor’s words kept echoing inside Pradipta’s head. The broad-shouldered man stood beside the petite girl, their fingers intertwined tightly.
‘The air feels nice, doesn’t it, babe?’ Kalya murmured, her eyes fixed on the trees lining the roadside.
‘Yeah… it does,’ he replied, his voice rough as he held himself together. What if this is our last moment? The thought made his jaw tighten. He swallowed hard, again and again, as her hand seemed to squeeze his even tighter. His head felt unbearably heavy. He bit his lip, and before he realized it, sweat had begun to gather along his temples.
‘Why are you sweating? It’s cool outside.’ Kalya asked, her brows knitting in confusion.
I’m… I’m not okay, Kalya. Two months. What am I supposed to do with so little time? His eyes burned, and tears nearly escaped. For a moment, Pradipta couldn’t find the words as he stared at her face. He should speak them, but he couldn’t.
‘Pradipta?’ Kalya called. ‘Pradipta Mahendra!’ Her voice rose, snapping him out of his thoughts.
‘Hm? Yeah, babe?’ he answered, forcing a smile.
‘Why were you spacing out?’
‘Me? Spacing out?’ He glanced around before letting out a small laugh. ‘Who says I was? I was just admiring how beautiful you are.’
‘You’re such a flirt.’ She nudged him playfully. ‘Seriously, you’ve been zoning out. What are you thinking about?’
‘You.’
The corners of Kalya’s lips curled into a smile. ‘You really can’t go a day without teasing me, can you?’
Stay strong. I have to stay strong. Pradipta steadied himself. Their hands swayed together with each step, his gentle smile hiding the ache inside him.
Then, without warning, his thoughts drifted back to 2017.
*
‘Ugh… where’s my hair clip?’ Kalya muttered as she searched through the bushes beside the school field.
‘What are you looking for?’ The voice came from a tall boy with glasses, an open book resting in his left hand.
Kalya’s heart skipped a beat.
‘My hair clip.’ Her brown eyes met his.
‘The sunflower one?’ the boy asked softly. Kalya froze, unable to answer. She simply nodded.
He slipped a small object from his pocket— a tiny hair clip with a sunflower engraved along its edge.
*
Their story had begun with a meeting neither of them had planned, at a high school in Jakarta. He was going to make sure it didn’t end this way. Anything can happen in two months.
***
Sarah Wardiansyah is an Indonesian writer who finds beauty in quiet pain. She writes about love, loss, and the seconds between goodbye. Her stories explore how ordinary moments become eternal. This is her first publication with Paper Road.
