"Move into my house... and pretend to be my daughter's mother."
If this were a soap opera, the deafening boom of thunder splitting the stormy sky would probably have sounded by now. Unfortunately, this was real life, so only Alya felt as though lightning had struck her square in the chest at Arka's words.
"W-what do you mean, sir?" Alya stammered, nearly losing her voice.
"Could you not make that face?" Arka snapped at Alya's shocked expression. It was kind of funny. "I said you only have to be a fake mom for my daughter. Not my real wife. Don't get cocky—why would I ever intend to marry you? Don't even dream about it!"
Arka huffed irritably. If not for Caca's whining and the promise he had failed to keep that afternoon, he would never have offered to let this perpetually late girl live in his house.
"B-but, sir..." "Accept this offer, or get out and find another company. Easy, right?" Arka folded his arms across his chest and raised one eyebrow challengingly.
For heaven's sake, she absolutely did not want this! But she needed the job... Alya screamed in frustration inside.
"All right, sir. I accept," Alya finally replied in resignation.
"Good. This afternoon, after work, I'll drive you home to pick up your things."
"T-today, sir?"
Arka let out a rough sigh. "Of course! When did you think? Next year?" "That's not what I mean... But I need to ask my parents properly." "Easy. I'll talk to them when we pick up your things."
Alya nervously squeezed her fingers. It wasn't that easy, Ferguso! Her parents weren't the type to casually let their daughter leave with a strange man.
"Why? Is there a problem?" Arka demanded sharply. "Oh, no, sir. Excuse me." . . "Why do you look so miserable, Al? Did he chew you out again?" Maya asked sympathetically when Alya returned to her cubicle. Alya's face looked exactly like wet clothes someone had forgotten to hang out to dry.
"Don't take it to heart, Al. Young, rich bosses are usually short on empathy," Reno said, trying to calm her down.
Having dealt with Arka several times since Mr. Bambang's days, Reno knew exactly how sharp the man's tongue was. "You'll get immune to Mr. Swag eventually."
"If you can't take it, why don't we switch positions, Al?" Sofi chimed in, her eyes sparkling. "I'd gladly get yelled at by Mr. Arka every day."
"Are you crazy, Sof? Since when did you become such a masochist?" Reno asked in bewilderment.
"Come on, didn't you see how sweet he looked carrying his daughter earlier? He's such a sweetheart! I automatically wanted to be Caca's mom. I'm sure she'd love me too," Sofi said with a dreamy grin.
"Exactly!" Maya enthusiastically agreed. "I suddenly want to know what it's like to be a young mom too. But the young dad has to be Mr. Arka. Ugh, it would be so sweet!"
"Your thoughts are getting more ridiculous by the minute." Reno shook his head at his two coworkers, who were starting to hallucinate.
Meanwhile, Alya sat silently daydreaming at her desk. If only they knew about the insane order their young boss had just given her. . . A black sedan moved at a moderate speed through the heavy evening traffic in Jakarta. In stark contrast to the noisy traffic outside, the atmosphere inside the car was eerily empty and cold.
"Where to next?" Arka asked flatly without looking over. "Just go straight, sir. I'll let you know when there's an intersection where we need to turn left."
Then the silence returned. They spoke only when necessary, merely exchanging directions.
Alya turned her gaze toward the window, watching rows of shops and streetlights beginning to flicker on one by one. Her resentment was off the charts. She cursed her own weak decision-making and her inability to resist Arka's intimidation.
If only she had plenty of money, she would never stoop so low as to pretend to be someone else's child's mother!
Arka occasionally glanced at the girl beside him in the rearview mirror. Truly, if he hadn't been cornered by the sweet promise he'd made to his daughter, he wouldn't have wanted to bring a strange woman into his private life either.
"Turn right up ahead, sir."
The car turned into a residential neighborhood that was growing dim. The Magrib call to prayer echoed from the surrounding mosques.
"Is it still far?" "A decent distance, sir."
Arka furrowed his brow. "You really travel this far by bus every day?" "Do you think I enjoy making jokes?" Alya snapped without thinking.
Arka gave a soft chuckle, a crisp, chilly laugh. He knew the girl beside him was harboring an extreme amount of resentment.
"You're really reckless," Arka muttered.
Alya merely snorted loudly, choosing to ignore him. . . In the living room of Alya's family's modest home, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense. Alya's parents sat with their arms crossed, staring in bewilderment at the well-dressed young man with a sturdy build who had unexpectedly come to visit.
"I'm sorry, but our daughter isn't a woman who can simply be taken away at someone's whim," Alya's father said protectively.
"I completely understand your concerns, Mr. and Mrs. Alya," Arka cut in, his voice suddenly changing into something extremely polite and authoritative. Alya, sitting beside him, stared at him in disbelief.
"I apologize if our arrival seems sudden. I need Alya's help with something extremely urgent involving my daughter. I promise I won't overstep any boundaries. Alya will have her own room and privacy in my home."
Alya held her breath. This was the main reason she'd refused to rent a room and had chosen to commute between home and work instead. Her parents had deep trauma from their past and were extremely protective of her.
"How can we trust that you're a respectable man?" Alya's father asked suspiciously.
"I wouldn't dare claim to be a good man, sir," Arka replied calmly but firmly. "But I swear on my honor that Alya will be safe with me. So I'm asking for your permission, Mr. and Mrs. Alya, to let Alya come with me tonight."
Alya's parents exchanged glances. Torturous silence filled the small room. Alya was already preparing herself to surrender. If her father refused, she was ready to resign tomorrow and look for a new job.
"I don't give my permission," Alya's father said firmly at last.
Thump.