Chapter 1 — Romantic Love or Platonic Love

Humans love to make love. According to Stephanie Cacioppo in the book Wired for Love, love is a biological need, just like eating and drinking. But where does the feeling of love come from? Could it be from the brain?

I love learning about the brain. The size of the brain is not large, yet it plays a vital role in life. I like the amygdala the most, the part of the brain that plays a key role in processing emotions, especially fear and vigilance. The more I learn to understand emotions, the more I love and care for someone.

Libra and I often conduct neuropsychological research together. Our closeness is very emotional. A platonic type of lab partners. We travel around, sleep in a research van in remote fields, and we are both orphans.

I care for Libra just as I care for everyone else. My name is Karina, this is my story as a psychiatric resident at twenty-eight years old.

On a day off, we took the van to the beach near the house. The loud crashing of the waves made Libra and me run to chase them, our laughter soaring high into the sky. When I fell, tangled in seaweed, I pulled Libra’s shirt until we were both swept away by a wave.

“Sis, can Rina join in and play?”

Suddenly, a teenage girl with a toothy smile approached us. Her hands were clenched tight. Her thin body was wrapped in a long-sleeved shirt, and her legs were perfectly covered, as if preventing the sun from tearing at her skin.

I chuckled seeing her shiny teeth, and quickly, my feet paddled through the water as we approached her.

“Where are your parents, little one?” I asked while leaning down to look at her face.

Not answering, she only chuckled, making Libra and me grin like fools.

“Are you here alone? Where do you live?” I asked again.

“Nearby,” she replied.

“Sorry if Rina is bothering you…,” said a tall man who approached, his hand stroking Rina’s bangs. “I’m her father,” he explained.

Libra and I nodded while smiling.

Still showing her teeth, Rina waved her hand at us. Her father held her hand, inviting Rina to go home. As they walked, my brow furrowed watching their backs. Rina seemed to have trouble walking. Her legs looked bow-legged.

“What is it, Karina?” Libra asked, staring at me intently.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” I replied, my brow furrowing deeply.

Something was strange. However, I hesitated, knowing how dangerous it is to accuse without proof.

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The dusk breeze put Si Abu to sleep by the window. The amber light shone warmly in the small home lab. A tablet glowed brightly on a clean table, sitting next to a wide-open laptop. Ara was busy writing on a stack of papers, while Libra typed quickly on the laptop.

Ara led and determined the research direction. Libra managed the data and technicalities. I helped with analysis and writing. Mr. Orion worked on references and language structuring. Our roles were clear on paper, though in practice, the boundaries often felt blurred.

The article we were working on was part of an affection study that had to pass ethical approval. On paper, everything was neat: definitions, questionnaires, boundaries. In the field, human emotions are far wilder.

I scratched the back of my neck. Suddenly, I broke into a sweat when Ara told me to edit the article together with Mr. Orion.

Mr. Orion is 38 years old. He was my high school teacher; he was the one who taught me. He used to have a degree in biology and just graduated with a degree in neuroscience, whereas I had graduated from neuroscience and medical school before him. It felt strange for me to be his senior now. About a research on platonic and romantic love, no less. How was I supposed to explain? Sitting side by side, too. Oh my God!

“This is the discussion section, not the method. Let's simplify the language, but don't let it be misleading,” Mr. Orion pointed at the screen.

I nodded. I then began to explain what he was pointing at.

“There are different things released by the brain, Sir.….” I swallowed hard. “In platonic love, the brain releases oxytocin—the love hormone that triggers a sense of comfort, and vasopressin—the trigger for long-term relationships. However, it lacks the neurotransmitters that trigger arousal like in romantic love,” I explained haphazardly.

“Then who is the reference for love is a primitive need?” Mr. Orion scrolled through the tablet on the table.

“Doctors Richard Schwartz and Jacqueline Olds, 2015, Sir.,” I answered awkwardly.

Mr. Orion typed, adding the reference I had forgotten to include. “Try explaining again.”

I gripped the stylus pen tightly. “In romantic love, the heart races and you sweat because of adrenaline; cortisol rises in the early phase, causing tension. Brain regions like the caudate nucleus and ventral tegmental area—which handle needs like hunger and thirst—become active. Both are involved in the primitive neural network, making us constantly seek the person we love.”

“What else?”

“The nucleus accumbens, which is responsible for goal-reward activities, whether it's food, s(e)ks, or stress management. The prefrontal cortex and amygdala are responsible for valuing someone, but when falling in love, these regions decrease, hence the term love is blind.”

Mr. Orion stared at the screen. “Mark the parts for dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin, and vasopressin. I want to edit.”

Did I have to explain again?

“Dopamine is released—the reward center; serotonin decreases, so someone forgets to eat; oxytocin during physical contact or deepening after s(e)ks….” I held my breath, looking into his eyes. “Vasopressin—long-term attachment, which calms anxiety. However, love can also be addictive, it can be dangerous—”

“Just mark it, don’t explain.” Mr. Orion covered his mouth, the corners of his lips unable to hold back a laugh as he watched how awkward I was.

Oh, he didn’t ask for an explanation? Ah! I wasn't focused.

Suddenly my hands grew nervous, the stylus pen felt like it was going to fall. Even the sleeves of my white lab coat were too long, covering my fingers. I struggled to write, for some reason.

“Fold your sleeves first.” He scratched his neck.

“What, Sir.?” i asked. His voice was hard to hear.

“Fold them.” He pointed at my hand.

Confused, I put the stylus pen on the table. I looked at my hands awkwardly.

Suddenly, his hand touched mine. My knee accidentally bumped into his. He neatly folded the coat fabric that covered my fingers; I fell silent watching him. Everything seemed to slow down.

“You aren’t like your usual self,” a deep, bass vibration resonated in my ear.

My heart felt like it was being stirred up. His eyes looked at my coat. His touch on my wrist. His lowering voice. The scent of mint wafting from his body. My cheeks felt hot like they were going to explode.

“You’re making me uncomfortable… Karina.” He slowly looked back at the screen.

I picked up the stylus pen, glancing at Ara and Libra. Everyone was busy working, and I quickly scratched my head.“

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Ara, can’t we fix our marriage… Marry me,” a voice was faintly heard.

On that cold night, I accidentally saw the reflection of Mr. Orion and Ara on the fridge. They were talking in front of the room. I covered my mouth tightly; I wasn't supposed to overhear their conversation.

“I can’t,” Ara replied, her face faintly filled with guilt.

“Why? It’s what’s best for us. Best for Karina,” Mr. Orion explained, his brow seemingly furrowing perfectly.

“I still have scars from trauma. I don’t want my wounds to spread to Karina later.”

“Everyone has wounds. We can heal them together.” Mr. Orion looked at her intently.

Ara shook her head. “No, I can’t.”

“Ara.”

Not responding, my sister entered the room.

Quickly, I took the coffee from the fridge. Leaving the kitchen, I was startled. I almost threw the coffee onto his clothes when I nearly bumped into Mr. Orion at the doorway.

He only gave me a sliver of a smile and then moved away to avoid me.

I swallowed hard, for some reason I felt exhausted. Going back to the room, I tightly hugged Ara who was closing her eyes on the bed, along with Si Abu—Mrs. Dewi’s cat.

Reflections of stars glistened in the clumps of grey clouds. Dad and Mom, I miss you. If only I weren't an orphan.

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