Game day arrived with a gray, unforgiving sky. For Kai, it felt like a funeral. He went through his school day in a trance, the world muted around him. During the final class, he could hear the faint roar of students heading to the field to watch the match against Tunas Jaya. It was a distant sound, like a party he wasn't invited to.
He went home. The apartment was an echo chamber for his anxiety. He tried to study, but the words on the page were a meaningless jumble. He kept checking the clock. 4:00 PM. Kick-off.
His phone buzzed. It was Bima. Kai ignored it. Then another buzz, and another. He finally gave in and looked. It was a group chat for the team, now a chaotic stream of one-word messages.
Bima: Come on guys, focus!Rian: Their striker is too fast.Adi: We can't get the ball out of our half.
Kai's hands grew clammy. He could picture it perfectly: the team's disorganized defense, the midfield struggling to connect, the forwards isolated and frustrated. He was the bridge between their defense and attack, and the bridge had collapsed.
He couldn't take it anymore. He closed the chat and tried to go back to his books, but his leg bounced uncontrollably under the desk. A half-hour later, his phone buzzed again. It was a single message from Bima.
0-1. Halftime.
Kai felt sick. He paced his small room, a caged animal. He felt a desperate urge to run, to sprint to the field, to pull on his jersey and fix what was broken. But the image of his mother's face held him in place.
The final buzz came an hour later. It wasn't from the group chat. It was a private message from Bima.
We lost. 0-2.
There was no anger in the text. No exclamation points. Just a flat, dead finality that was more painful than any accusation. Kai dropped his phone on the bed and sank into his chair, the silence of the room pressing in on him. He had chosen, and the price of his choice was the crushing sound of his team's defeat.
When Bima came over that evening, his face was streaked with dirt and exhaustion. He didn't shout. He just slumped onto the edge of Kai's bed and stared at the floor.
"It was bad, Kai," he said, his voice raspy. "We were all over the place. No rhythm. No… no ideas." He finally looked up, his eyes filled with a weary sadness. "They needed you. I needed you."
The guilt was a physical weight, pressing down on Kai's chest, making it hard to breathe. He had let them all down.