The small minimarket at the street corner was cool inside. The AC hit Urip's face like an ice cube—such a contrast to the heat of Jakarta that morning. He bought a bottle of mineral water and a brightly colored e-money card.
"Just top it up for a hundred thousand," he said, pretending to be confident.
"Sure, sir," the cashier replied, tapping the card onto a small device. "It's activated now, ready to use."
Leaving the minimarket, Urip walked along the sidewalk. It was surprisingly clean—no street vendors, no parked minibuses. In the middle of the road stood a long glass building—one of the TransJakarta bus shelters.
"So that's what they meant by 'in the middle of the street,'" he muttered, following the stream of people heading up the fully enclosed, air-conditioned overpass. "Damn… this is no bridge—it's a time tunnel."
Inside the station, a staff member in a dark blue uniform smiled warmly. "Good morning, sir. Where are you headed?"
"Kelapa Gading," Urip replied.
"Take Corridor 1 toward Harmoni first, then transfer to Corridor 10."
"...Transfer?" Urip's face tightened in panic.
"Yes, don't worry. There are signs, and you can ask the staff over there too."
Urip nodded and stepped toward the entry gate. He tapped his e-money card on the glowing device. A soft beep. A green light.
"Wow… pretty advanced," he thought.
The inside felt like a miniature train station. Commuters stood calmly, eyes mostly fixed on their phones. Mothers, office workers, students—all accustomed to the rhythm, like they were waiting for a bullet train in another country.
The bus arrived minutes later. Its doors slid open, and passengers boarded in order. Urip followed, standing by the window.
"This is nothing like before," he thought. "Back then it was either a Kopaja or a Metromini… fighting for a spot by the door—if there was a door."
The bus glided smoothly down its dedicated lane. No traffic. No stops. The AC cooled the air inside while Jakarta outside seemed to fly by in reverse—glass towers, digital billboards, elevated highways like iron serpents overhead.
Urip smiled to himself.
"I really am like someone from the past… But Jakarta? You've grown damn cool."
—
The TransJakarta bus stopped at "Vespa" station, not far from Kelapa Gading Permai. Urip stepped off and looked around. He hardly recognized the area. This road… used to be filled with pedicabs and vendors. Now it was smoothly paved, complete with lane dividers and clean markings.
He walked slowly in the direction his memory guided him. A blue minivan stopped briefly nearby—still the same color, but cleaner than he remembered.
"Hey, is this the angkot to Jembatan Tiga?" Urip asked hesitantly, recalling how they used to idle for hours waiting for passengers.
"Yeah, Koh. Hurry up and hop in!" the driver called, glancing at the mirror.
Urip jumped in and sat down. Before he could catch his breath, the angkot sped off. No waiting. No shouting for more riders.
A young man beside him nudged him lightly. "Koh, don't forget to tap your card."
"Huh? Tap?" Urip blinked in confusion, then quickly pulled out his e-money card and tapped it onto a small reader near the driver. A soft beep, and a green light lit up.
"Whoa… even angkots use cards now…" he thought in amazement. "Back in the day, the driver would just yell, 'Pay up!' while handing you change from a rusty tin can…"
He smiled to himself. This wasn't the Jakarta he had left behind. But the road toward his old home… still held the same imprints in his heart.
—
"Stop here, Bang!" Urip called, leaning forward. The angkot slowed to a halt. He stepped down—and froze.
His steps were slow, hesitant. But the small street he'd known since he was a teenager was still there—busier now, narrower with motorcycles parked carelessly along the sides.
A few meters later, he stopped in front of a tall-gated house with a minimalist modern design, white and gray tones dominating. Gone were the old porch and the bougainvillea pots in the corner.
"This is the house?" Gaby's voice whispered from within his head, curious. "Grandpa sold it before Mom got married, Uncle."
Urip stared at the building for a long moment, then slapped his own forehead. "Damn it!" he groaned. "Why the hell did I come here then?"
He sighed and looked down at the sun-scorched asphalt reflecting the light. No more physical traces of the past. Just him, carrying it all in his mind—and in a body that wasn't his.
A gentle breeze blew, carrying the faint sound of a car horn in the distance.
"Well then," he muttered softly. "That's what retracing your steps means… sometimes the footprints are long gone."
Gaby chuckled from within. "You're so dramatic, Uncle."
"Oh please. You were practically dancing when you found out you had cousins."
They both laughed—one body, two souls—in the heart of a Jakarta that had moved on.
—
Urip stood still before the house's sleek, modern façade—white walls, automatic black gate, large unbarred windows. Not a trace of the past remained. The house once filled with laughter, the aroma of Mrs. Tan's cooking, and spirited debates between Siska and Mr. Gabriel, now felt like an empty stage.
"Wanna know where I first met your mom?" Urip whispered, his voice barely louder than the mid-day traffic. "Not here. It was… sacred ground. The very beginning."
"I'm curious," Gaby answered inside him. "Was the cathedral really that romantic? Mom used to tell me stories, but she never took me there."
Urip took a deep breath and glanced once more at the house he once knew so intimately, now as familiar as a stranger's name in an old phonebook.
"It was Christmas mass, 1996. I was late… had to sit at the very back, fighting for a seat with this girl. She was feisty. Mouthy. But her smile… it stuck with me."
Gaby chuckled softly. "So that was Mom, huh? She's always been fierce."
"Totally," Urip said, a faint, wistful smile on his lips. "And when Panis Angelicus began to play… I knew I'd never walk away from that girl again."
He turned away from the house. The Jakarta sky was turning gray.
"Wanna go, Uncle? To the cathedral?" Gaby asked eagerly.
"Yeah. Seems like a better idea than staring at someone else's house."
—
The Jakarta sky was dimming when they arrived at the Cathedral. The church rose high, elegant and defiant, its spires piercing the sky. Urip's—Gabriel Lim's—steps slowed, as if trying to drink in the memories buried deep here.
Gaby gasped inwardly as her eyes caught something she had never noticed. "That… that's Istiqlal?"
"Yup. Only in Jakarta can you see this view," Urip replied silently. "A church and a mosque standing across from each other—peacefully."
Inside the cathedral, a chill welcomed them, along with a sacred hush. Stained glass windows bathed the air in soft color. The murmur of prayer created a reverent stillness.
Urip stepped toward the third row from the back, fingers brushing the worn wooden pew.
"This one," he whispered. "This is where Siska and I fought for a seat because we were late. Panis Angelicus was playing... and I fell in love."
Gaby went quiet for a while. Then, softly:
"I wonder… could I meet my soulmate here too?"
Urip sneered in his mind. "Stupid kid. What about Rachel, huh?!"
Gaby giggled—maybe at herself, maybe at Urip's grumbling voice.
But behind the laughter was something deeper. A soft echo of longing—for a time that couldn't be relived. For a first love. For the version of himself that once believed in everything, simply and wholly.