Chapter 2 — A Sound in the Traffic

That afternoon, the streets of Bandung were completely jammed.

It was close to four o’clock—the hour when office workers poured out of buildings and students flooded sidewalks in wrinkled uniforms, eager to go home. Cars crawled forward only to stop again seconds later. Horns blared without direction or anger, forming a long, exhausted complaint that seemed to belong to everyone and no one at once.

The sky wasn’t dark, but it wasn’t bright either.

The sun hung low, filtered through thin gray clouds, casting a dull golden hue over the city.

Pak Parto gripped the steering wheel with both hands. His posture was steady, practiced. Still, his eyes blinked longer than usual, his head dipping slightly before lifting again, as if he were fighting waves of drowsiness.

Lily sat in the back seat beside her mother.

That day, her mother had made time to come along and pick her up herself. Her work schedule was tight, but for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she felt the need to be there—close, within reach—beside Lily.

“Pak Parto,” Lily’s mother said gently, though there was caution beneath her tone, “please be careful. Are you sleepy?”

Pak Parto startled slightly, then let out a short, awkward laugh.

“No, Ma’am. I’m fine.”

He paused, then sighed.

“Well… maybe just a little.”

Lily’s mother reached into her bag and took out a small pack of candy, passing it forward.

“Here. It might help.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” Pak Parto said, nodding gratefully as he accepted it.

The car moved a few meters, then stopped again.

Lily leaned her head against the window, her eyes unfocused as she watched buildings, trees, and people drift by at an unbearably slow pace. She wasn’t really thinking about anything. Since the accident, her mind often lingered in a strange place—not floating, not blank, but lagging behind her body, as though she were always a few steps late to her own thoughts.

She heard the noise outside, but not all of it reached her.

She saw faces, but they slipped away almost immediately.

Her mother, too, seemed tired. She leaned back against the seat, eyes closing briefly before opening again.

The traffic drained everyone.

Lily was on the verge of falling asleep when—

BANG.

A sharp, violent sound slammed against the side of the car.

Her body jolted.

Someone struck the window from outside, hard and impatient.

“Get out!” a man shouted.

One word.

A harsh tone.

Unfiltered.

The world seemed to freeze.

Lily and her mother snapped fully awake at the same moment.

“What’s happening, Pak Parto?” her mother asked quickly, tension threading through her voice.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am,” Pak Parto whispered. “I brushed his car earlier… then turned into Sukajadi Street.” He glanced outside, his face pale. The road was still locked in traffic. Cars boxed them in from all sides.

The man remained standing near the car.

Pak Parto opened the door and stepped out.

The door shut with a heavy thud.

Inside the car, Lily went completely still.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, the man’s voice echoed in her ears. That single word—get out—repeated over and over, bouncing off the walls of her mind.

Her chest tightened.

Her hands began to tremble. At first it was subtle, barely noticeable. Then it grew stronger, spreading through her fingers, stiff and cold, as though warmth had drained from them entirely. Her breathing shortened, catching somewhere in her throat.

She didn’t know why.

She tried to take a deeper breath, to steady herself—but her body didn’t listen.

Her mother noticed immediately. She pulled Lily into her arms, holding her close, one hand moving gently along Lily’s back.

“It’s okay, Lily,” she whispered. “I’m here.”

The embrace was warm.

Safe.

Yet Lily’s body continued to shake.

Tears slipped from the corners of her eyes without sound. No sobbing. No gasps. Just silent tears falling as if her body were releasing something it had held for too long.

Her mother didn’t ask questions. She didn’t demand explanations. She only tightened her hold, resting her chin against Lily’s hair.

Outside, voices drifted faintly through the closed windows. Pak Parto’s voice was low, careful, trying to calm the situation. The other man’s tone was still sharp, but no longer shouting.

Every sound from outside made Lily’s shoulders tense.

She couldn’t remember anything.

No faces.

No moments.

Yet her body understood one thing with frightening clarity:

that voice was not safe.

Minutes passed, though they felt stretched far longer than they actually were. Time seemed to elongate between the hum of engines and the impatient honks surrounding them.

Finally, the car door opened again.

Pak Parto climbed back in and shut it quickly.

“How did it go?” Lily’s mother asked.

“It’s settled, Ma’am,” Pak Parto said, releasing a long breath. “I left my ID with him. I’ll go to his house tonight.”

He hesitated, then added, “It’s fine. He’s not angry anymore.”

Lily’s mother nodded slowly. A thin smile appeared on her face—not one of relief, but of reassurance. She hugged Lily again, tighter than before.

Pak Parto glanced at them through the rearview mirror. His expression carried guilt and concern.

The car began moving again, inching away from that spot.

Lily’s trembling slowly eased, though it didn’t disappear entirely.

She stared straight ahead, not truly seeing the road. In her chest, an unfamiliar sensation lingered—not fear, not anger, but something deeper. Like an old wound that had been brushed against by accident.

She didn’t remember what had happened.

But her body remembered what it meant to be unsafe.

And for the first time since the accident, Lily realized:

Some things are erased from the mind,

but never released by the body.

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