The door to the main executive office on the top floor of Pratama Group was tightly shut. Rayhan leaned back in his imposing leather chair, letting the creeping dusk outside the massive windows wrap the room in darkness.
On his neatly arranged wooden desk, stacks of important reports sat untouched. Rayhan's full attention was fixed on the profile sheet for the Nexus Advisory Group consulting team. More precisely, on the formal photo of Clara attached in the upper-right corner.
The photo showed Rayhan a face he barely recognized. In the wedding photos and family snapshots stored on his phone, Clara had always smiled so broadly that her eyes crinkled. But in this photo, Clara's smile was tightly controlled. Her eyes stared straight into the camera with a cold calmness.
Rayhan squeezed his eyes shut. A dull ache slammed into his chest again, stirring memories of the most humiliating and painful moment of his life. The moment a few months after the night they divorced.
Two and a Half Years Ago.
That night, in an exclusive lounge in Jakarta Selatan, Rayhan sat with several business associates and old friends. The crystal glass of alcohol in his hand had been empty for the past hour.
By then, his divorce from Clara was official on paper. Rayhan had returned to his old, carefree life. There was no longer a woman waiting for him to come home late at night. No more thoughtful messages filling his phone. No more cup of hot tea waiting for him on the dining table.
He convinced his ego that his life was far better without Clara's interference.
However, the casual conversation at his table suddenly changed when one of his associates, a young logistics entrepreneur, set down his glass with a heavy sigh.
"Do you remember the Anindita family from Tekstil Nusantara?" the businessman asked the others at the table. "What a shame. A company that big was wiped out in a matter of weeks because they were defrauded by their own partner."
Rayhan, who had been taking a sip of his drink, suddenly froze. That name—the family of his ex-wife.
"Yeah, it's tragic," another man chimed in. "Mr. Anindita suffered a heart attack and died on the spot when their assets were seized. If I remember correctly, his wife suffered a ruptured blood vessel the moment she learned her husband had died. They say she's still in a coma at the hospital."
The crystal glass in Rayhan's hand trembled slightly. "What?! What are you talking about?" Rayhan's voice came out hoarse, cutting through the conversation.
His friends turned toward him in surprise. "Wait, Ray, you didn't know? Their mansion was seized by the bank."
Crash!
The glass in Rayhan's hand fell onto the table, splashing the last of the drink across the gleaming wooden surface.
Rayhan's world seemed to collapse in an instant. Every last bit of air vanished from his lungs. Clara's words from the night of their divorce suddenly echoed through his mind with lethal clarity.
That night, Rayhan left the lounge like a madman. He drove through the city streets without any direction, his heart pounding so violently that his ears rang.
An overwhelming sense of guilt slammed into the ego he had held so high for so long.
He went to the Anindita family's old home, only to find the iron gate secured with a chain and a seizure notice posted on it. He went to the hospital where Clara's father had been treated, but the staff told him the man's body had been buried the previous month and his mother had been moved by Clara to an unknown location.
From that night on, Rayhan mobilized every resource, every bit of money, and every connection he had to find Clara Anindita. Yet the woman seemed to have erased every trace of her life. Clara disappeared, leaving Rayhan alone in a pool of regret that scorched his soul every night.
Present Day.
Rayhan opened his eyes again. His breathing was slightly ragged as he remembered those dark days when he had nearly lost his mind searching for the woman.
And now, after three years of being tormented by the shadows of his guilt, Clara stood before him. No longer a woman in need of his helping hand, but someone completely beyond the reach of his power.
Click.
The office door opened. Rayhan's secretary stepped inside cautiously, carrying a new folder.
"Rayhan, here's next week's schedule. Nexus Advisory Group just confirmed that Clara will personally lead the financial audit at our office for the next month."
Rayhan straightened in his chair. The fragility in his eyes abruptly shifted into a sharp, determined gaze. His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
One month.
Fate had given them a second chance to meet again under the same roof. Rayhan knew Clara had built an incredibly thick wall between them, and he knew all too well how deep the wounds he had carved into her heart were.
But this time, Rayhan would not remain passive.
"Set up the consulting team's office on the same floor as mine," Rayhan ordered in a firm, icy tone. "Make sure all their needs are met without the slightest shortfall."
"Yes, Rayhan."
After his secretary left, Rayhan leaned back again and stared at Clara's photo on the document.
"Three years ago, I let you go," Rayhan whispered into the silence of the room. "But this time, I'll never let you go again."