【Novel】To be continued～Chapter 8 — A Love I Never Thought I Could Fall Into～

In the warm night air, I walked along the familiar streets of Jalan Tamblingan.

These days, it had become rare to see Japanese people around Sanur.

The Japanese restaurant was right next to the café I'd visited a few days earlier during the daytime.

It had only recently opened, and traces of its opening celebration still remained outside.

Under the evening lights, the glass-fronted building looked slightly dim.

At first glance, it almost looked like a bar.

As I took a few photos, one of the staff members came outside with a smile.

I showed him my reservation screen, and he led me inside.

Further in, I saw a couple sitting side by side at a table for four.

I want to sit like that, too.

I sat down for the moment, but I couldn't settle at all.

It was already the time we'd agreed on.

But I couldn't just sit there and wait.

So, for the time being, I decided to go to the restroom.

A staff member led me outside.

Once again, I found myself walking through the warm night air.

When I opened the door, I found myself surrounded by an elegant, grown-up atmosphere.

The entire wall was a slightly weathered shade of gold.

The woman reflected in the mirror looked different from the Rio I knew in Japan.

Instead of my usual long, straight hair, I had left my naturally wavy hair as it was.

I was wearing an emerald-green camisole dress I'd bought in Sanur, layered with a fitted black T-shirt.

I checked my reflection one more time.

I'm okay.

But there was no way to suppress the pounding in my chest.

I stepped outside again.

There was no sign of him in the bicycle parking area.

I walked along the wall and turned back.

Then—

on my right, I sensed someone.

Through the glass, there he was.

Without thinking, I raised my right hand and waved.

He was holding his phone in one hand and waved back at me with a smile.

I hurried back inside.

Theo pointed toward the table for four, asking me with his eyes,

Where should we sit?

Wait…

Beside each other?

“Really? Is that okay?”

He let me take the seat against the wall, and sat down right beside me.

I felt as though I had suddenly been wrapped in a soft warmth.

“Why did you…?”

I had once been able to use English effortlessly at work.

But somehow, my brain was still stuck in Japanese mode.

I meant to ask,

Why did you come tonight?

But somehow, what came out was,

Why did you choose this restaurant?

And, unfortunately, he understood me.

“Because it’s food from your country.”

Well…

It wasn't quite the answer I had wanted.

But it was okay.

He was wearing a burgundy polo shirt with gray checkered trousers accented by a red stripe.

During Pilates, his body had an effortless, powerful athleticism.

But tonight's gentlemanly look suited him just as well.

Very nice.

I tried desperately to make a joke about his trousers.

“Normally, with regular-length pants, you'd end up wearing shorts.”

I used every bit of English I could manage.

It didn't work at all.

I gave up.

I had wanted to make him laugh.

During the lessons, there was such a height difference between us that I practically had to look up just to see his face.

But sitting down, our eyes were almost at the same level.

I told him,

“When we sit down, we're almost the same height.”

The translation on his phone came back:

“My legs are long.”

I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

Well…

I had to admit that one.

It was our first time at the restaurant, and the menu was filled with tiny print.

The lighting was dim, and I couldn't make sense of much of it.

“Why don't you look it up with Google Translate?”

Oh, right.

I'd completely forgotten about the app.

So we ordered some of the restaurant's recommendations—

yakitori, chicken meatballs, grilled sea bream with salt, and rice cooked in a clay pot.

And, of course, I couldn't forget my Bintang.

A large bottle, please.

“Sorry, no Bintang. We have Asahi… Sapporo…”

“What?! No Bintang?!”

In Bali, of all places, there's no Bintang?

After some hesitation, I ordered a craft beer instead.

“Hojicha.”

Theo really did put his muscles first.

I wondered when he'd even managed to notice the tea.

Since my trips to Bali had gradually become solo trips, my evenings were usually spent alone in my room with a Bintang.

It was easy.

It was comfortable.

It was completely free.

But sometimes, if I was honest with myself, it was lonely too.

It had been a long time since I'd sat down and shared a meal with someone like this.

I looked outside.

The neatly arranged entrance was softly illuminated.

For a moment, I felt as though I were somewhere far away—

somewhere that wasn't the familiar Sanur at all.

We toasted with craft beer and hojicha.

A small appetizer arrived, just as it would at a proper Japanese restaurant.

Our conversation was a mixture of English and a little Indonesian, with the help of a translation app.

Theo translated English into Japanese for me, while I translated my Japanese into Indonesian.

Theo naturally took the lead in our conversation.

“What is your job?”

Right.

He knew absolutely nothing about me.

When I told him, “I’ve been working since I graduated from university,”

he immediately asked,

“What year did you graduate from university?”

There it was.

The big question of the night, arriving much too soon.

Honestly, I wasn't ready.

Just getting myself here had taken all the courage I had.

I hadn't had the time—or the emotional room—to think about what I was going to talk about.

There were just a few things I wanted him to know.

I told him the year I graduated and that I was forty-eight.

When I calculated the difference between our graduation years, I realized we were fifteen years apart.

Fifteen years...

Of course.

His physique was almost overwhelmingly beautiful.

He was a Pilates coach, and I was his student.

But somehow, this didn't feel entirely like a casual meal between a teacher and a student.

I showed him something on the translation screen.

“I’m a serious person. Please don’t misunderstand me.
I don’t casually invite someone out for a meal.
I couldn’t sleep last night.”

He stared at the screen.

Then he began asking me, one thing at a time, almost as if he were checking each detail—

where I was from, my family, my work.

Even when we talked about my age, the conversation never stopped.

I simply thought,

Wow.

If we had both been Japanese...

the conversation probably would have been filled with polite, superficial small talk.

Safe.

Uncontroversial.

And incredibly boring.

A large, slender glass filled with golden craft beer sat in front of me.

It was surprisingly good.

One glass wasn't nearly enough to get me drunk, but little by little, the tension inside me began to loosen.

I took out the itinerary I had made in Excel for this trip and showed it to him.

I always make one like this so I don't forget my plans.

I actually enjoy making them.

“I've been to Bali about thirty times.”

Theo looked interested.

“That's amazing. Let me see.”

He looked over my itinerary.

Then he asked,

“What if the plans change?”

It was a solo trip.

Most of the time, I had already made reservations, so I couldn't imagine changing much.

“My plan is perfect.”

I couldn't explain exactly what I meant in English, so my answer came out slightly differently from what I intended.

Then he asked if I wanted to live in Bali.

If I wanted to stay here for a long time.

I said,

“Yes.”

But I couldn't keep the conversation going in English, so I left the rest unsaid.

Back when I was still a little more of a dreamer,

I used to think I wanted to live on this island.

But after coming here so many times, I had gradually begun to realize that actually living here might be difficult.

Still...

I was in love with this island.

No.

What I truly loved was Sanur.

It was the place where I could breathe as myself.

That was my answer now.

The food arrived.

I still wasn't hungry.

I should have said so from the beginning, but I hadn't been thinking clearly enough to say it.

“Nice!”

I glanced over at Theo.

He was holding his chopsticks perfectly.

“I'm interested in Japan,” he said.

Then he began asking about the temperature in Japan, where the airports were, what kinds of studios there were...

And then, somehow, my workplace came to mind.

The words that came out were:

“Japanese people are cold.”

I quietly told him that there were people struggling with depression at my workplace, and that relationships there had become distorted.

In Bali, people seemed to keep their distance from each other much less.

I knew that, with me, he was simply speaking to me as a customer.

I knew that.

And yet...

I couldn't help feeling the difference in warmth.

Theo began typing something into the translation app.

Quietly.

The screen showed:

“I am disappointed in Indonesian politics.”

Disappointed.

Or perhaps even desperate.

I wasn't sure how strong the original Indonesian expression had been.

But I couldn't bring myself to ask what he really meant.

Images of my many trips to Bali came back to me—

the moments when I had caught glimpses of ordinary local life.

“There are systems that survive on bribery, aren't there?”

It may have been a slightly off-target response.

But that was all I could manage to say.

And quietly, I placed my own sense of despair about my workplace beside his words.

Even when you try to do the right thing,

you aren't always rewarded for it.

I knew that better than anyone.

Theo spoke in an incredibly calm way.

For a moment, I felt like I was the younger one.

I had completely forgotten about my beer.

I took another sip.

Then, using my awkward Indonesian, I asked jokingly,

“Pacar berapa?”

How many girlfriends do you have?

I meant it as a joke.

But apparently, he misunderstood me and thought I was asking how many relationships he had had in the past.

“Now,” I clarified.

“Nothing.”

He then showed me a translation on his screen.

Something along the lines of:

“You don't have to focus on marriage.
You can take your time and continue a relationship for a long time.”

I had never been the type to obsess over marriage either.

But then I realized there was one difficult thing.

Possessiveness.

Theo stared at the translation screen.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

He shrugged.

“...That's true.”

He smiled.

And then he looked at me just a little longer.

Apparently, falling for someone is complicated no matter what country you're from.

My stomach still wasn't hungry, but I picked up a piece of yakitori.

The tsukune even came with an egg yolk, and the dishes looked almost exactly like they would in Japan.

Theo's hojicha had been served in a traditional teapot.

“Have some tea.”

I explained that it was a teapot and tried to pour the tea for him.

And spilled it.

Of course.

I can be so clumsy.

There was one thing I had to tell him that night.

“I'm married. My husband is close to your age.”

A brief silence followed.

On his translation screen appeared:

“That is important. It is something we have to talk about someday.”

I knew I had to bring it up.

So I took one more step.

I told him that, after years of things piling up between my husband and me, I had reached my limit.

That, somewhere along the way, we had stopped seeing the same future.

And I told him about the period when I suddenly became unable to walk for reasons no one could explain.

How I had finally managed to recover enough to stand here today.

Theo simply listened.

Quietly.

Naturally.

He accepted everything I told him without making a big deal out of it.

And then I continued.

“You should find a younger woman.”

I thought that was the right thing to say.

Because that was how I had always lived.

Doing what was considered right by society.

Giving people the answer they could accept.

Choosing the option that wouldn't cause trouble.

Swallowing my feelings.

Enduring.

That was what I had done with my work, too.

I had taken on responsibilities because I thought I had to.

And even on the day I could no longer walk,

I had still been living according to someone else's idea of what was right.

Always inside someone else's answer.

“Why?”

I showed him the translation.

“Because my parents want that...”

He looked at the screen.

Then he began typing.

He paused.

Corrected something.

Typed again.

His eyes were serious.

The silence felt incredibly long.

Finally, the screen showed words that meant something like:

“If that's what you say, then maybe that's what is right.”

“I will support you in your life, too.”

I said nothing.

No.

That's not it at all.

Is that really the answer I wanted?

His words echoed inside my chest again and again.

He wasn't wrong.

I was the one who had said those things.

For me, suppressing my feelings because of invisible expectations and pressure from the people around me had always seemed normal.

I had to be an adult.

I had to be responsible.

But that wasn't what my heart truly wanted.

I was shaken by his answer.

I couldn't find the right English words.

The age difference was a fact.

The fact that I was married was a fact.

Everything was a fact.

I opened the translation app and began typing.

Theo quietly waited, eating a little of his food.

Then I showed him the screen.

“I want to be honest with my feelings.
I thought I would never fall for anyone again.
So I'm surprised.”

I continued.

“If I go home without telling you anything,
I think I would regret it.”

I held my hands in front of my chest and tried to explain.

“The real is important, but my feeling is important.”

That sentence didn't come from the translation app anymore.

It simply came out of my mouth.

“I don't like you.”

The moment I said it, even I was startled.

No.

No.

That wasn't it.

That was even further from what I meant.

“I...”

Nothing followed.

I hadn't meant to say that.

The words wouldn't come.

Only silence remained.

Theo said nothing.

He simply kept his eyes facing straight ahead.

Looking at his profile, I finally managed to continue.

“...love you.”

The words had fallen between us.

But...

Theo lowered his eyes for just a moment.

And then he picked up nothing.

He didn't say anything.

From somewhere deep inside the restaurant came only the sound of dishes being cleared away.

Before I knew it, we were the only two people left in the restaurant.

There was still food on the table.

Theo pointed at it, asking if I wanted to eat some more.

But I couldn't.

I'd been so absorbed in our conversation that I had barely touched my food.

The dishes were a little heavily seasoned.

A beer and a few small bites had already filled me up.

When I told him I couldn't eat anymore, Theo laughed.

He seemed to say with his expression,

I'm at my limit too.

And yet he took one more bite, as if he were making one last effort.

“Let me see...”

Without thinking, I reached out and touched his stomach.

He laughed and quickly pulled away.

Even through his shirt, the hard muscles felt as if they were about to burst through.

I waved my right hand, telling him,

You don't have to eat anymore.

Maybe it was time to leave.

Just as I was beginning to think that...

Theo said,

“Let's keep in contact as friends.”

I hadn't expected those words at all.

I was surprised.

“Then I'll send you a message.”

I answered with a gesture mimicking sending a message on my phone.

There was a bicycle parking area right in front of the restaurant, but Theo said he had parked his motorbike a little farther away.

He suggested that we walk together.

“Really?”

Walk together?

But...

that meant I could spend just a little more time with him.

And that made me happy.

We paid the bill and left the restaurant.

The warm night breeze now carried a hint of coolness.

At this hour, the air was comfortable enough to walk in.

Theo walked beside me, keeping himself on the side closer to the road.

“Do you like walking?”

“Yes!”

Until just moments ago, we had been sitting at the same eye level.

Now, walking beside him, I sometimes had to look up to see his face.

“Do you have any children?”

“No.”

After that, I had no idea what to talk about.

So, suddenly, I brought up a movie.

A movie I had watched just before leaving Japan.

“Erin Brockovich.”

Theo looked at me.

“Show that movie in English.”

The heroine in the movie had stood on her own feet.

Even when people looked down on her.

Even when she had to take the long way around.

She chose her own path.

I thought that was beautiful.

The movie reminded me of something so simple—

that I was allowed to choose my own life.

We walked slowly side by side.

And that time together was already beginning to come to an end.

The place was getting closer.

The place where we would have to part.

I knew it.

This was a night I could never go back to.

I knew that...

even then.

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