5: The Unscheduled Stop

Chapter 5: The Unscheduled Stop

The clinical light of the morning felt harsher than ever, exposing every crack in the walls he had thought were solid. Galen stood by the sink for a long time, the silence of the kitchen ringing in his ears like a physical frequency. He looked at his hands; they were steady, despite the hollow, echoing roar in his chest.

The phone on the counter buzzed. He snatched it up, hoping—fearing—it was her.

It was a text from Nurin.

‘Hey, just a heads up. The design team is doing a deep-dive workshop tonight for the SCBD project. It’s going to run really late, probably past midnight. Don’t wait up for me, Mas. Eat something healthy, okay?’

Galen stared at the screen until the text blurred into a series of jagged lines. "Eat something healthy," he whispered to the empty room. "Right. While you’re out liquidating our life."

He dialed Bagas immediately. The line picked up on the first ring.

"You’re fast, Galen," Bagas said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "I was just about to ping you."

"Did you get the tracker on her car?"

"Yeah. My guy did it while she was inside her office. She didn't notice a thing. She’s currently parked at the studio. Why? Did she say something?"

"She just texted. Claims she has a late-night workshop. Said she’ll be out until midnight."

"A workshop, huh? On a Tuesday?"

"That’s the story. Can you see her movements in real-time?"

"I’m looking at the interface now. The car is stationary. If she’s lying, we’ll know the second those tires rotate. You want me to stay on her, or are you going to play interceptor?"

"I’m doing it myself, Bagas. Just keep the feed open on my end. Send me the link."

"Sent. But Galen? Keep your head. If you tail her too close and she spots you, this whole thing goes sideways. You know how she is."

"I know exactly how she is. That’s the problem."

*

The afternoon dragged on with a torturous, agonizing slowness. Galen sat in his office at Prakoso Development, but the blueprints on his desk might as well have been written in a dead language. Hendra knocked twice before sticking his head in.

"Sir? The councilman is on line two. He sounds... well, he sounds like he’s lost a lot of sleep over that threat you made this morning."

"Tell him I’m busy, Hendra."

"Busy? Sir, this is the Menteng permit. You said this was the priority."

"The priority shifted. Tell him I’ll call him tomorrow. If he wants to talk sooner, tell him to send a written apology for the zoning delay first."

Hendra stepped further into the room, his brow furrowed. "Are you alright, Pak Galen? You look... pale. Is it your blood pressure again?"

"I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind."

"Nurin called the front desk earlier. She asked if you had any late meetings today."

Galen’s head snapped up. "She did? What did they tell her?"

"They told her your schedule was clear after four. She didn't leave a message. She just said, 'Good to know,' and hung up."

"She’s checking on me," Galen muttered, his grip tightening on his pen. "She’s making sure the coast is clear."

"Sir?"

"Nothing. Go home, Hendra. Tell the staff they can leave early. I want the building empty by five."

"But the quarterly projections—"

"I said empty, Hendra. Now."

*

The sun began to dip behind the Jakarta skyline, painting the smog-filled horizon in bruised purples and oranges. Galen sat in his SUV, parked three blocks away from Nurin’s design studio. His eyes were fixed on the glowing blue dot on his phone screen.

At 6:15 PM, the dot moved.

"She’s moving," Galen said into his headset.

"I see it," Bagas replied. "She’s heading south. That’s not the way to your place, and it’s definitely not the way to the SCBD site."

"She’s taking the toll road toward Bogor. Why would she go to the outskirts?"

"Maybe the workshop is at a retreat? Some of these design firms do that 'nature inspiration' crap."

"Not on a Tuesday night when she’s 'slammed' with reports. Stay with me, Bagas. Don't lose the signal."

"I’m on it. Just stay three cars back. There’s a white Avanza between you and her. Keep it there."

The drive lasted nearly an hour. The dense traffic of the city gave way to the darker, winding roads of the hills. The air grew cooler, the streetlights more sparse. Nurin’s car turned off the main road onto a private, gated driveway lined with manicured hedges.

Galen pulled over onto the shoulder, dousing his headlights.

"She stopped," Bagas said. "Wait, this address... Galen, do you know where she is?"

"It looks like a hotel. Or a private estate."

"It’s not a hotel. I just ran the coordinates. It’s called The Gading Wellness Center. It’s a high-end, private rehabilitation and psychiatric clinic. Top-tier. The kind of place where people go when they want to disappear for a 'rest.'"

Galen felt a cold sweat break out across his neck. "A rehab clinic? Why the hell would she be at a rehab clinic?"

"I don’t know. But she’s inside the gates now. My signal is hitting the main building."

"I’m going in."

"Galen, wait! There’s security. If you roll up there now, they’ll call her."

"I’m not rolling up to the front door. There’s a service entrance further down. I saw it on the map. I’ll go on foot."

"Be careful. This place is for the elite. They don't like trespassers."

Galen didn't respond. He killed the engine, grabbed his jacket, and stepped out into the damp night air. He moved through the brush, his heart thumping a frantic rhythm. He reached the perimeter fence and found a gap near the laundry facilities.

He moved like a shadow across the lawn, guided by the lights of the main building. He found a vantage point behind a cluster of stone statues overlooking the main entrance.

A minute later, Nurin’s car pulled up to the circular driveway.

A valet opened the door. Nurin stepped out. She wasn't wearing her blazer anymore; she had draped a soft cardigan over her shoulders. In her hand, she held a large, vibrant bouquet of lilies.

The same flowers Haris Danuarta had brought to the office.

Galen’s breath hitched. He watched as she spoke briefly to the receptionist at the door, her expression soft, almost grieving. She didn't look like a woman on a secret mission. She looked like a woman going to visit someone she loved.

She disappeared inside.

"She’s inside," Galen whispered into his mic. "She had flowers, Bagas. The lilies."

"Lilies? Those are funeral flowers in some cultures, Galen. Or for the sick."

"She didn't look like she was going to a funeral. She looked... relieved. Who is in there? Who is she visiting at seven o'clock at night with flowers from another man?"

"I’m trying to hack the patient registry, but their firewall is military-grade. Give me ten minutes."

"I can't wait ten minutes. I’m going to the window."