“And then?” I asked, skepticism lacing my voice.
I needed to hear more to understand better. For me, the sky isn’t blue until I see it myself. So, I waited, letting him talk as long as he needed. Honestly, there was something comforting in his deep calming voice.
“My head is full of stuff. Keeping the family business alive which has been built over years is harder than starting something from scratch. It’s more challenging than maintaining muscle mass, giving up my favorite foods, or avoiding all the delicious things.”
I rolled my eyes. “Classic excuse, Sir. So clichéd.”
Indra sighed, his shoulders sagging a bit before forcing a smile. “My hobbies are starting to bore me. I was born into wealth, with no need to chase anything to satisfy some inner child’s desire for toys or gadgets. I’ve always lived in comfort, always maintained that comfort by working hard.”
“Ah, the young master life, huh? A life steeped in wealth and power,” I teased, trying to mask the slight jealousy in my voice.
“The only thing missing is what was lost when my mom passed away. Do you get that?” Indra’s voice softened, and a shadow of old pain clouded his eyes. He raised an eyebrow playfully.
“Okay.”
“I’m not Tomi, who could write song lyrics that hit home, but if you want me to sing an album for you… I’m up for it.” Indra smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “So, you’re the poor little rich boy, huh?” I laughed, even though I felt a bit cruel for teasing him.
“I love you. Don’t ask why… I don’t even know,” Indra confessed, his voice trembling slightly.
He reached out to gently stroke my hair, his fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. My eyes started to burn as his words hit me. What was this? A mix of anger, frustration, and embarrassment. I wanted to believe him, but it felt like a lie. A tear slipped out and Indra quickly wiped it away with the back of his hand.
“Is the arrogant Young Master Indra Hendrawan trying to buy me, hmm?” I asked, my tone laced with offense.
He shook his head slowly. “No, Pris. Even though I want to give you everything you desire, I know there’s a difference between women who come to me for my looks and money, and those who need to be pursued, who are worth fighting for.” His lips pressed into a thin line as he finished.
“Why? I’m not running away,” I said, raising an eyebrow playfully.
Indra grinned briefly, rolling his eyes. “True, but you’re stubborn as a mule.”
I kept pushing for answers, even though I already knew. This man had a way with words, much like his friend Revaldo Aditya. Both could start a cult with their charisma and silver tongues.
Everything felt complicated, and I wasn’t sure I trusted my own feelings. Initially, I just wanted revenge for what he did to me, while he was just curious. But over time, something deeper grew between us. Love, maybe? How strange.
“Rey and Tomi are gone forever. We spent nearly 20 years together, and so much happened during that time.” Indra drifted off for a moment before focusing back on me.
My mischievous fingers touched his chin, where a small stubble had started to grow. He needed to shave to return to his usual clean, neat self—like a drug salesman. I mean, this man had borderline OCD with his obsession for cleanliness, always sensitive to the smallest things, always needing control. Yes, even control over me. Indra said all his controlling behavior was to keep me safe.
Safe? Isn’t he the real danger here? What if he betrayed his words? Or worse, what if he pretended not to know me if I got pregnant because of him?
It’s funny how the world turned upside down in the span of four to five years since I was 21. He wasn’t like this before, I swear! Indra was heartless, cruel to me. His words were sharper than any dagger when he was angry or insulting me. That was then, though.
“After they died, I realized… I can’t live like this forever.” Occasionally, Indra closed his eyes and smiled.
“Live like this forever… What do you mean, Sir?” I asked, still busy touching his jaw and chin.
Maybe he was getting irritated, losing patience, so he grabbed my hand to stop me from playing with his face. I laughed as he kissed the back of my hand several times, then rubbed his rough chin against my neck in playful revenge.
“Could you be a bit more serious?” he complained, snorting as I giggled from being tickled. “When someone’s talking, don’t just zone out, Pris. It’s still morning, and I’m not patient enough to wait for you to sleep off your silliness.”
“Okay, okay! I’ll behave.” I tried to push his face away from my neck, knowing it would stop being funny soon.
When Indra finally stopped teasing, I caught my breath, blushing as he looked at me like that. Maybe he was thinking about something, but I wasn’t too eager to know the scenario in his head. Or maybe I did know but didn’t want to confront it.
“Live like Larry the Lobster!” he said, laughing. “Get it? If you still don’t, your brain is really messed up, Pris. Your IQ must be 65 or something.” Indra grinned.
“And you use your intelligence to manipulate people, Sir?” I shot back.
Indra smiled thinly. “A man needs vision and mission, and he has to be good at diplomacy. If you don’t have those things… you might as well be a clown.”
“A clown? Indra the Joker, huh? Crazy and should be locked up in a mental hospital.”
Indra squinted and smiled sourly. “Say what you want, Pris. The point is we need to get married when we get back from here.”
Honestly, I didn’t know how to respond anymore. Their deaths felt like a relief to me, but the man looking at me warmly was even more of a bastard. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve imagined killing him in my mind.
Do you know, Sir? All this time, I’ve wanted to poison every dish I made for you. But I was too scared of going to prison because I’m terrible at planning murders. That was a long time ago before I realized there was nothing wrong with forgiving Indra—for my own peace of mind. Holding onto that grudge alone tormented my soul. Maybe I need you. Maybe I started to care and love you as a person, and… as a man? Is that possible, God? Does it make sense?
You could say our love story came at a great cost. I had to let go of my deep-seated resentment, while you had to accept the loss of your two best friends, Sir.
“Come on, let’s get some more sleep. We need to rest up before exploring Dubai.” Indra shifted closer, resting his head on my chest.
I stayed silent, letting him hold me like a child. Ugh, is this a toddler or an adult man? I was in shock because the last time he acted like this was when he had a high fever, and I stayed up all night to make sure his temperature stayed within safe limits.
But thinking back on it, taking care of a sick Indra wasn’t complicated. Usually, men act like they’re dying when they have a fever, but Indra stayed calm and wasn’t fussy, even though he looked ready to have his life taken. That’s how much he loved Tomi and Rey; their deaths left Indra heartbroken, as if he had lost siblings.
“Sir.”
“Hmm?” he mumbled.
“Do you remember how old you are now?” I teased, stroking his head lovingly.
“32 years. Why? Is that a problem?” Indra laughed after saying it.