Chapter 05
Faby and Priska observed the two men. Every so often, Faby mischievously tossed in questions—about their ages, their hobbies, and what made them interested in Priska. Embarrassed, Priska pinched Faby’s arm hard, feeling like the scapegoat of a cold war between two powerful men. Yet Faby only grinned, clearly amused, continuing to pour fuel onto the fire of their rivalry.
Thanks to Faby, Priska discovered that both men were the same age—thirty-two—and both single, claiming to be too busy with work. Indra said he enjoyed extreme sports: shooting, rock climbing, racing cars, and wrestling. His words carried the suggestion that he wouldn’t hesitate to take Aldo on physically.
Aldo, unwilling to yield, countered by saying he could sing beautifully, practiced fencing, knew a bit of karate, and loved reading books. Faby nodded enthusiastically at their impressive answers before shooting Priska a sly smile. She loved teasing her friend. At moments like this, Priska wanted to yank out Faby’s hair more than deal with Aldo or Indra.
With arms crossed and a smug grin, Indra leveled a sharp look at Aldo. “Knowing someone for a long time doesn’t mean you’re meant to be. You’re Chinese, Do. How can you marry a woman of a different ethnicity?”
The bespectacled man chuckled softly, adjusted his glasses, and offered a faint smile. “Sorry, Mas Indra, but I’m flexible. Besides, ethnicity isn’t any of your business.”
Aldo’s reply was as cutting as Indra’s provocation, heightening the tension even further. Priska licked her lips and swallowed. She didn’t entirely hate Aldo—in fact, she was a little drawn to him. But the way he treated her at work, harsh and humiliating in front of others, left her resentful. If he claimed to love her, why torment her like that? She truly couldn’t understand Revaldo Aditya.
“So, are you serious about Priska?” Indra pressed.
“Ndra, rules are made to be broken. I’m not rigid like that. As long as I’m determined to move forward … there’s always a way,” Aldo replied, tapping his forehead with his forefinger.
A strange mix of tenderness and doubt welled up inside Priska. She had never seen Aldo speak so candidly before. Perhaps holding his feelings back for so long was what made him so aggressive toward Indra now.
“Anyway, I’m going upstairs. Feel free to continue your debate,” Priska said, carrying her plate to the sink. She slipped into the back kitchen and hurried up to the second floor, moving quickly to avoid the heat of the quarrel.
She didn’t want to look at either Aldo or Indra. It was all too sudden. She was still single, and her last relationship had ended three years ago—both too busy with work to make it last. Sprawling across her bed, Priska checked her phone. Several messages from her mother awaited her. Taking a deep breath, she called back, already bracing herself for the scolding she knew was coming—she hadn’t been home in months since changing jobs.
“Hello, Mom.”
Priska instantly held the phone away from her ear as her mother’s loud voice filled the line, scolding her for rarely calling. Rica’s graduation was coming up soon, and she had barely kept in touch. Rica, her younger sister, was twenty-two and studying in Bandung. People often said they looked alike, but Priska never felt they shared any resemblance besides being women. Rica was cheerful and spoiled, while Priska was independent and often at odds with both parents. Perhaps that was why she had failed to notice Aldo’s feelings all this time—too absorbed in her own world.
“How foolish of me,” Priska muttered, chiding herself.
She lay on her side, phone pressed to her ear, eyes growing heavy as she listened to her mother’s chatter—about a neighbor just engaged to an official’s son, gifted a new car, and promised a trip to Europe for Christmas. Priska instantly understood the subtext. Her mother wanted the same for her: marriage, security, and a husband who could provide financial comfort.
“Did you hear me, Pris? Next week you must come home. Tante Wulan will nag me in the group chat if you don’t show up. And bring a boyfriend, at least, to save face,” her mother urged at length.
Priska chuckled softly. “Well, you’ve got three options, Mom. Do you want a Chinese son-in-law, the son of an official who’s also a businessman, or a guy with a camera obsession?” she teased.
She meant Revaldo Aditya, her editor-in-chief; Indra Hendrawan, the ambitious businessman; and Bisma Bonaventura, the photographer. All three had shown interest in her, each in their own way. But Priska couldn’t decide. Aldo was too harsh, Indra too intense, and Bisma too kind.
“What? You’re being pursued by three men? Be realistic, Pris. Choose the businessman—your life will be secure. What kind of business does he run?” her mother asked, suddenly enthusiastic.
Priska rolled her eyes. Typical. Every parent wanted a wealthy, generous husband for their daughter. Did that mean she had to choose Indra?
“I don’t know. I just got home. I’m going to shower and get some beauty sleep. Bye!” She hung up before her mother could reply, tossing her phone onto the bed.
A laugh escaped her as she reveled in teasing her mother. Why had Indra suddenly appeared in her life? And why did Aldo finally confess the feelings he had kept hidden? She didn’t remember ever asking for love—at twenty-six, she had only prayed for a stable job and financial independence. If not for the problems at her old office, she would still be working in corporate PR. But then, she might never have crossed paths with Aldo.
Her gaze drifted to the ceiling. Aldo’s face came back to her—his masculinity, his refusal to back down against Indra, his unflinching presence despite Indra’s stronger build and intimidating aura.
“Am I … starting to fall for Aldo?” Her whole body ached as she groaned and returned to scrolling on her phone, forgetting she had meant to shower. Whatever was happening downstairs, she no longer cared.