There wasn't a single photo of Mila's face left in the house.
The night before, while Anton was lost in thought in his room, Mrs. Ratih had secretly taken down every framed wedding photo of the two of them from the living room and thrown them into the trash behind the house.
The only one left was a frame in the bedroom that Anton had turned facedown.
Mrs. Ratih headed toward the bedrooms upstairs.
She inspected the furniture, opened the closets, and began planning how to rearrange the home's decor according to her dominant taste.
Anton should have listened to me from the start. Mila was nothing but a leech who held back my son's success and progress in life, she thought smugly as she arranged a vase of flowers on the table in the middle of the room.
Meanwhile, in a magnificent office building located downtown, Anton went through his work routine.
As a branch manager, he greeted several staff members and coworkers with the formal smile he habitually wore.
Praise from the director for achieving his monthly target briefly inflated his ego.
Even though he had only just become a widower after yesterday's incredibly dramatic divorce.
Anton managed to conceal it from the public and his coworkers by maintaining a strict mask of professionalism, as though he were the one who had been hurt the most.
Yet during breaks and while reviewing office documents, the man's thoughts were often distracted.
Whenever he saw a female staff member in his office serve a cup of hot tea, Anton's mind instinctively flew to Mila.
Was... was divorcing Mila yesterday really the best decision? Anton wondered, staring blankly at the glowing screen of his laptop.
At the deepest part of his heart, where he was always trying to deny it, a small doubt had begun to grow.
Anton couldn't deny that during their two-year marriage, Mila had been a devoted, patient wife who had never demanded a luxurious life from him.
Mila had always welcomed him with a genuine smile whenever he came home from work exhausted.
Especially since that woman had given birth to a son who had briefly been part of their lives, even if he had survived for only one month.
But whenever the seed of regret tried to rise to the surface, the image of his mother and Mrs. Ratih's indoctrinating words immediately appeared to refute it.
“Mila is bad luck, Anton! She's not worthy of your position as a manager!”
Anton roughly rubbed his face, trying to drive away the memories of Mila.
“No. Mom is right. I'm a manager. I deserve a woman far better than Mila.”
Time passed quickly until it was one in the afternoon.
After lunch with a client, Anton opened his phone.
A brief message from his mother arrived, along with several photos and short profiles of women who, she claimed, came from prestigious families and were ready to be matched with him.
Looking at the names and photos of women in luxurious dresses on his phone's screen, Anton smiled bitterly and let out a soft sigh.
“Looks like Mom really doesn't want to waste any time finding me a replacement for Mila,” he muttered.
At around five-thirty that afternoon, Anton turned the wheel and drove into the house's front yard.
His chest still held a mixture of exhaustion from work and emotions that had yet to fully settle.
As he stepped through the front door, the strong, savory aroma of stir-fried spices immediately greeted his senses.
The living room looked much neater and cleaner, and several pieces of furniture had been moved from their original positions back when Mila still lived there.
“You're home, Anton?” Mrs. Ratih called cheerfully from the kitchen, walking closer as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with a tissue.
Anton placed his work bag and suit jacket over the back of the sofa.
“Yeah, Mom. Thanks for exhausting yourself cleaning up the house.”
“Ah, it's no trouble, my child! It's my duty as your parent. I just want to make sure my beloved child lives comfortably, peacefully, and properly cared for in this house,” Mrs. Ratih replied happily.
Anton gave a faint smile and nodded, appreciating his mother's efforts, even though she had always wanted to control his life.
Mrs. Ratih took Anton by the arm and led him to the dining table, which had been neatly set with a variety of delicious dishes.
“Anton, I cooked all your favorite foods for dinner tonight. You need to eat plenty, all right? I don't want you to get sick from worrying about unimportant things or working too hard. Oh, and around eight tonight, we'll be having a very special guest at our house,” Mrs. Ratih said, her eyes sparkling with a secret.
Anton, who was pulling out a dining chair, paused for a moment.
He looked at his mother with a furrowed brow.
“A special guest? Who, Mom? Why all of a sudden?”
Mrs. Ratih smiled broadly, pride filling her expression as she whispered words that made Anton's chest jolt in shock.
“Your new future wife.”