Throwing on her coat, she grabbed her car keys and rushed into the street.
Jakarta was still alive — couples laughing, holding roses, music spilling from bars.
As she drove, tears blurred her vision. She whispered through sobs, “Adrian… why would you do this to me?”
As she turned onto Sudirman Avenue, the glare of a truck’s headlights hit her eyes.
Her vision clouded. Her grip loosened on the steering wheel.
