It started on a mundane Monday. At 7:15 a.m., Bannenbaum “Bananabaum” Morries woke up with a quiet sense of productivity—not something entirely new, but a deeper continuation of what she had always been chasing: architecture.

She moved through campus quickly, sometimes catching the commuter, sometimes hopping on a motorcycle ride, always aiming to arrive early. To her, being early meant berkat—a small, personal honor in showing up before everyone else.

Today, however, wasn’t just about class. It was the briefing for a compulsory academic collaboration with a prestigious architecture school abroad, joined by selected students from Berlin. Whether it truly mattered—or how many of them would actually show up—remained to be seen.

As usual, Bannen chose her seat: front row, left corner, closest to the lecturer. Close enough to observe every expression, every reaction.

The studio was still empty when she arrived at 8:00 a.m., a full half hour early. She switched on the lights and air-conditioning out of habit, settling into the quiet space.

But when she turned to sit down, she paused.

Someone was already there.

Three of them, actually. Taller, unfamiliar, with features she could immediately recognize—not through assumption, but through quiet observation. Not just “mat salleh,” as people loosely say, but something more specific. German, perhaps.

Bannen hesitated, then spoke politely.
“Excuse me, sir… this is my seat.”

The man turned. Greyish-blue eyes, neatly combed hair, faint shadows under them.

“I don’t see any name here,” he replied calmly.

Her blue diary sat right in front of him.

Caught off guard, Bannen froze. For once, her confidence didn’t follow through. With the other two watching, she simply nodded and moved away, settling instead on the front row—right side this time.

Not by choice. By surrender.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Outside the studio, she let out a quiet breath, opening her bento box.

“Jeez… what was I thinking?” she muttered.

Embarrassment crept in fast, warming her face as she picked at her breakfast.

“Hi, Bananabaum!”

She looked up. Of course. The nickname stuck—two Bannenbaums in one class meant one had to adapt, and she had chosen this one herself.

“Bananabaum, awalnya. Excited ke nak briefing?” (Bananabaum you came ,early excited for briefing?)

Bannen smiled softly and nodded. Padme leaned casually against her, someone she’d known since foundation—different circles, but always on good terms.

Soon after, Ivy and Awlyn joined them.

“Weh, kau dah tak duduk depan ke?” (You dont sit in front line anymore?) Ivy teased.

“Aku duduk… tapi belah kanan.” (I did , just on the right side)

Awlyn noticed immediately, a small laugh escaping her.
“Nampak tak puas hati je.” (You look unsatisfied)

“Diamlah,” (Shut up)  Bannen replied, mock-annoyed.

But even as they laughed, her mind drifted back—
to the seat,
and to the man who took it.