30 Days to Unmake a Monster

Chapter 8: A Date on the Brink of Ruin

The morning light filtered through the cracks in the tattered curtains, casting long golden streaks across the floor of Raka’s apartment. The place felt wider now, not because the square footage had changed, but because Raka had finally started clearing out the towers of instant noodle cups and moldy design magazines. He realized that if he wanted to fix his heart, he had to start with the space he lived in.

In the corner of the room, Luna was still fast asleep. It was the first time Raka had seen her sleep past her usual hour. She was curled into a small ball, arms wrapped tightly around a flattened pillow. Her face, usually so guarded and masked in secrets, looked remarkably innocent, though the deep circles under her eyes betrayed a hidden exhaustion. 

Raka approached her with feather-light steps, practically holding his breath. He caught a glimpse of the watch on her wrist, which lay resting against the blanket. 22:11:55:00. The numbers were motionless. Static.

Is that a good sign? Raka wondered. He didn't dare touch her, remembering the warnings about a painful synchronization. Instead, he made his way to the small kitchenette. He wanted to make a breakfast that was a step up from his usual bland porridge.

An hour later, the sharp, savory aroma of fried eggs, sliced chilies, and shallots filled the air. Luna let out a soft groan and slowly blinked her eyes open. She bolted upright instantly, as if some internal sensor had detected an anomaly in her environment.

Don't panic, Raka said, setting two plates of simple fried rice on the table. I wasn't running any weird simulations. I just got hungry, and I figured you needed some actual nutrients for once, instead of just caffeine and futuristic tech.

Luna looked at the fried rice, then shifted her gaze to Raka. His usually messy hair was combed back, though a few stubborn strands still refused to cooperate. You look... different today.

Better looking? Raka smirked, trying to break the tension. Or do I just look more like him?

Luna remained silent for a moment before sliding out of bed. You don't look like him. He never cooked unless it was a photo op for the press. She sat down in the creaky wooden chair and took a bite. Her eyes widened slightly. It tastes... normal.

Normal is a win for me, Luna, Raka said, sitting across from her. So, what’s on the curriculum for today? Am I getting accused of cheating again, or are we simulating a divorce this time?

Luna set her spoon down. She stared out the window at the distant, crawling Jakarta traffic. There is no formal curriculum today. Today, I want us to do something incredibly dangerous.

Raka swallowed a mouthful of rice with some difficulty. Dangerous? Like what? You want to rob a bank for a high-speed chase simulation?

No, Luna said, turning back to him. Her sharp eyes seemed unusually dim. Today, we’re going on a date. Just as a normal couple. No scripts, no learning objectives, no instructions. Just you and me, out in the world.

Raka was stunned. But you said feelings were poison. You said emotional intimacy would just bring the Echo back and eat up our time.

It will, Luna whispered. But in the future, my failure wasn’t just because I couldn’t control your temper. It was because I forgot how to be happy with you. I was so busy trying to be the perfect wife that I lost myself. And you... you were so busy being a success that you lost the ability to appreciate the small things.

Luna stood up, walked to the closet, and pulled out Raka’s most presentable denim jacket. We’re going to the place where we first met in my timeline. A park on the edge of the city. I want to see if it still exists, or if fate has already erased it.

Jakarta had been hit by a light afternoon rain. The scent of petrichor—damp earth—clung to the air, mingling with exhaust fumes and the smell of roasted corn from street vendors. Raka and Luna walked side-by-side along the puddle-strewn sidewalk. They didn't hold hands, but their shoulders remained only inches apart.

Every time a passerby bumped into Raka, he instinctively moved to shield Luna from the crowd. These small gestures didn't go unnoticed by her.

It’s still here, Luna said as they reached a small, somewhat neglected park. There was a rusted swing set and a wooden bench with peeling paint.

I used to pass by here all the time in college, Raka said, scratching his head. I never would’ve guessed this was where I’d meet my future wife.

Luna sat on a swing, her long legs pushing off the dirt lightly. In my timeline, this park was turned into a luxury shopping mall. We met at the grand opening. You were the lead architect, and I was one of the journalists covering the event. You were so arrogant back then. You looked at me like I was just an annoyance in your busy schedule.

Raka sat on the swing next to her. I can’t imagine being that much of a jerk.

Money and praise can change anyone, Raka, Luna said, watching the sky turn a deep shade of violet and orange. That evening, you accidentally spilled coffee on my dress. Instead of apologizing, you handed me a wad of cash and told me to buy something new. I threw the money back in your face.

Raka let out a spontaneous laugh. Damn! That sounds like the Luna I know. What happened next?

You were paralyzed. You told me, 'Nobody has ever dared to treat me like that before.' Cliche, isn't it? Luna offered a thin smile—a genuinely warm, sincere expression that made Raka’s heart skip a beat. After that, you pursued me relentlessly. You were the sweetest, most attentive man. You used to wake me up with black roses every morning because you knew they were my favorite. But after we got married... those roses turned into thorns.

Raka studied her profile. In the fading light of the sunset, Luna looked incredibly fragile. He felt a powerful tug in his chest—a desperate urge to pull her into his arms and promise her he would never let those roses turn into thorns.

But just as that feeling reached its peak, the temperature around them plummeted.

Raka felt it first. The hair on his neck stood up. The breeze that had been cool and pleasant suddenly turned into an icy wind that bit at his skin. The people around them—children playing with a ball, couples taking photos—suddenly began to move in slow motion, as if time itself was being dragged down by a massive gravitational weight.

Luna... Raka whispered.

Luna froze on her swing. She looked down at her wrist. The red numbers were flashing wildly, emitting a painful, static screech. 18:04:12:33. In an instant, they had lost four days.

He’s here, Luna’s voice trembled.

At the edge of the dimly lit park path, a silhouette began to take shape. This time, the Echo wasn't a blurry shadow. It had a vivid, physical form. He wore a bespoke suit worth thousands of dollars, his hair was perfectly styled, and his face...

Raka’s eyes widened. The Echo’s face was his own. But his eyes were hollow, cold, and brimming with malice. This was the Raka from the future. The Monster.

The Future Raka stepped forward. With every footprint, the grass beneath his feet turned black and withered. He didn't speak, but his presence radiated a wave of despair so heavy that Raka felt his lungs constrict.

Let her go, Raka, a voice echoed in the air, though the Echo's lips never moved. This happiness is an illusion. You know you’ll eventually destroy her. Give her to me, and let this cycle end.

Luna stood up, her body shaking violently. She tried to raise her silver device, but her hands were too weak to hold it steady. Get away! You’re not my husband! You’re just the ghost of a timeline I intend to erase!

The Echo stopped directly in front of Luna.

He lifted his hand, his fingers appearing solid yet shimmering with a ghostly transparency as he reached out to touch Luna’s cheek. I am what you love, Luna. I am the reason you’re here. Stop lying to yourself.

Raka couldn’t just stand by. He vaulted off the swing and stepped between Luna and the Echo. Though he felt small against the entity’s majestic aura, Raka squared his shoulders and stood his ground.

You’re not me! Raka yelled, his voice cracking in the dead silence of the park, which now felt like a ghost zone. I might be a mess, and I might be broke, but I have something you’ll never have!

The Echo looked down at him with pure condescension. And what exactly do you have, you pathetic loser?

I have a choice! Raka shouted. He turned for a split second, locking eyes with Luna. Without a thought for the risk of losing time or the danger of falling out of sync, Raka grabbed her hand and held it tight.

ZAP!

A surge of electricity, far more violent than before, slammed into both of them. Raka felt like his mind was exploding with a thousand memories—Luna’s midnight tears, the sound of breaking plates, the insults he had hurled in the future. But in the center of that storm of pain, Raka searched for the brightest memory of all: the moment he first made porridge for her in his tiny studio apartment.

I choose not to be you! Raka roared.

An explosion of raw emotion erupted from their joined hands. The light was no longer a sterile white, but a brilliant electric blue that swallowed the surrounding darkness. The Echo let out a scream—a sound like a thousand sheets of glass shattering—before it disintegrated into fragments of light that were swept away by the wind.

The world suddenly snapped back to normal. The sounds of children playing soccer returned. The temperature warmed.

Raka was breathless, his hand still gripping Luna’s. He felt completely drained, as if his very life force had been siphoned away. He glanced at the timer on Luna’s wrist. 12:00:00:00.

Six days. Just like that, they were gone. They had just traded nearly a week for one short fight.

Luna slowly pulled her hand away, her face streaked with tears. She looked at Raka with an expression that tore his heart out.

Why... Luna whispered. Why did you do it?

I couldn't let him touch you, Luna, Raka answered honestly.

But we lost six days, Raka! Luna cried, her voice breaking into sobs. There are only twelve days left! How am I supposed to fix you if I’m running out of time? Every time you try to protect me with your feelings, you’re just killing me slowly!

Raka stood there, stunned. He watched as Luna collapsed onto the grass, weeping. The silence of the park, once peaceful, now felt suffocating. Raka realized then that his love truly was a poison to Luna’s existence.

Luna, I—

Don’t say a word, Luna cut him off. Her voice was cold again, but this time it was heavy with pure desperation. Starting tomorrow, no more dates. No more talking outside the curriculum. We’re moving to the Seventh Simulation: Divorce and Hatred. I have to make you hate me, Raka. Because only through hatred will we gain more time.

Luna stood up and walked away, her steps heavy and her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Raka stayed frozen under the glow of the streetlamp. He looked down at the hand that had held hers. It was still warm, but he knew that warmth was a price he had to pay with a separation that was drawing closer every second.

Hate you? Raka whispered to the night wind. How am I supposed to hate the only person who made me feel alive again?

In the sky, the full moon looked pale and indifferent, as if mocking the futile struggle of two humans caught in a web of time they had woven themselves.