He sits quietly in the corner of the café, rechecking all the preparations he and his team made. Everything is already as planned, and in the next two hours, justice will be served. His people will praise him; his family will have honor. All he needs to do is wait patiently for the next two hours until it is time to proceed.

He looks around. It isn’t yet the busy hour for the café; only a few seats are occupied. Across from him, a mother sits with her two kids; the older a boy, about the same age as his son. The boy looks like him too: happy one moment, throwing tantrums the next. The younger one, a girl, looks sweet in her pink dress that matches her blushing cheeks; like a ripe apple.

Though the kids are buzzing with energy, the mother remains calm, smiling as she patiently answers her son’s endless questions while feeding his sister. In between, she sips her coffee. She reminds him of his wife, the wonderful woman he married ten years ago.

He had never met her before; their marriage was arranged by his parents. He trusted them to choose the best woman for him, and they did. He still remembers the moment he entered their room after the wedding and found the most beautiful woman he could ever imagine sitting quietly on the bed, waiting for him. That was the best day of his life.

His wife is not only beautiful, she is also the perfect mother to their three children. She manages everything, the house always spotless despite the chaos of kids, delicious meals always ready on the table, and every night she helps them with their homework. His eldest daughter always ranks top of her class. His son learned to read and write early. And his youngest daughter, she has a gift for drawing, her smile the most charming of all, the same as her mother’s.

Thinking of them warms his heart. Soon, in less than two hours they will have a better life. Once he finishes his task, he will be a hero.

His eyes wander as the café grows busier. A group of students in their college uniforms enters, their laughter bright and carefree. He was once like them. He remembers those days, when his biggest concern was how to impress girls at school. Later, he graduated, got a good job, married the perfect woman, and built the perfect life, until recently.

He was terminated when the factory he worked at for over a decade closed down. At first, he remained hopeful, confident he’d find another job soon. But months passed, and rejection followed rejection. His wife never complained; she kept smiling and still managed to feed the family. He later discovered she had been working as a helper for their neighbors, caring for their children. Even then, she never complained.

So when his cousin invited him to join his “organization,” he didn’t think twice. At first, he didn’t fully understand what they did, there was no office, no routine, just endless conversations. His cousin spoke of injustice, of oppression, and how the world needed to be set right. Slowly, he began to believe him. Then came the generous offer, almost holy: his family would be taken care of for life, his children’s education guaranteed, and his name remembered with honor. All he had to do was act.

Now, less than an hour remains. The café is full. It’s the perfect time. He counts the minutes, the seconds.

The mother and her children.
The man near the window, smiling at his phone, perhaps messaging his lover.
The young woman in a jacket, probably heading to a job interview.
All of them will vanish with him. Only he will become the hero; they will remain nameless.

That, too, feels like an injustice.

After two hours of battle within his mind, he decides to change the plan. He won’t back out, that would mean betraying his promise, and the punishment would erase everything for his family. But as long as he detonates in a public space, the deal stands.

Slowly, he rises, walks out of the café, and heads toward the abandoned garden. There, he lights himself up.

I passed him in slow motion as I entered the café. I was two hours late for my date, oh Jakarta’s finest traffic, plus an unexpected meeting at the office.

My date was already waiting by the window, looking charming in his brown jacket. He smiled, and my heart sank like always.

“I’m so sorry I’m two hours late!”

He smiled again. “No worries. I was here early.”

Trying to calm my nerves, I joked, “Well, two hours don’t change much in life, right? Do you think two hours could ever change everything?”

“I think so,” he said.
And for a brief, burning moment, the world held its breath.