“If it’s not because of Almira, then why did you choose to keep your distance from me for three years, Mas?”
Nayara did not look away from Arven. Marlena was still in the living room with them, but for the first time that night, Nayara did not care about tomorrow’s lunch, who would ask questions, or how their marriage looked from the outside. Every detour had been exhausted. All that remained was Arven’s answer.
Arven stood a few steps away from her before saying, “Because I was the one who chose that distance.”
Nayara waited.
“Separate bedrooms, not touching you unless necessary, not allowing this relationship to grow close—all of that wasn’t because I couldn’t.” Arven paused briefly before continuing. “I did it deliberately.”
Marlena shifted on the sofa, but Nayara did not turn around.
“Why?”
“There was an old wound I’ve always associated with your family.” This time, Arven did not avoid her gaze even for a moment. “I made this marriage a place to retaliate.”
Nayara’s palms turned cold. “So I was punished for something my family did?”
Arven did not answer right away, and that pause only made Nayara’s question feel even simpler.
“I know you weren’t the one who did it,” he finally said. “I know you weren’t involved. But I still chose to make you bear the consequences.”
That was the part that changed everything.
For three years, Nayara had always searched for what was wrong with her. Maybe she was too demanding. Maybe she had hoped too quickly. Maybe Arven simply needed more time, and she had to become a more patient wife. She had even thought Almira was the most painful answer she would have to accept—that Arven’s heart still belonged to another woman.
It turned out that wasn’t it.
Almira was not the woman taking something from her now. Arven was the one who had chosen all this time not to give it to her.
“I still provided for the household,” Arven said, and Nayara heard the remnants of that old justification without needing to wait for a longer explanation. “I thought as long as I didn’t—”
“Enough,” Nayara said without raising her voice. She had heard that list of material responsibilities before, and tonight there was nowhere left for it to hide. This house had provided a roof, food, and bills paid on time. But none of that changed the reason behind the bedroom doors that had always remained separate.
My patience wasn’t waiting for love to grow. My patience was being used to keep the punishment going, Nayara thought bitterly.
If she stayed tonight, she might still be able to sit at the family dining table tomorrow and answer questions as needed. The house would remain tidy, Arven would still look like a husband fulfilling his responsibilities, and no one would need to know what he had just admitted. But Nayara would know. She would have to wake up in the same room while accepting that the distance between them was not a failure they were trying to repair, but something that had been deliberately planned to hurt her.
Nayara turned toward the stairs when Marlena called her name. “I’m just going to get a few things.”
In her bedroom, Nayara pulled a small bag from the closet. She packed two changes of clothes, her wallet, her identification, a phone charger, and enough necessities for a night or two. Her hand paused near another drawer, but she did not open it. She was not moving her life out tonight. She was only making sure that once she passed through the front door, she would not have to come back because she had forgotten something essential.
Arven stood in the doorway without touching the bag or blocking her path.
“Nay,” he said, “I know this confession doesn’t fix anything.”
Nayara looked at him for a moment. She did not try to find regret on Arven’s face. Whatever the man was feeling now did not erase the three years in which Arven had known she was not the culprit, yet still made her his target.
“I’m not asking you to fix it tonight either,” Nayara replied. “I just don’t want to keep living here while waiting for you to decide when I deserve to be treated like your wife.”
She lifted the bag and went downstairs.
Marlena was already standing when Nayara returned to the living room. “Don’t make a decision this big in the middle of the night. We can still talk this through tomorrow. If you leave now, people will ask questions.”
Nayara stopped a few steps from the door. “If anyone asks tomorrow, you don’t have to answer for me.”
“Nayara, think about your family.”
Nayara looked at the house she had cared for over three years while hoping that one day it would feel like a place they had chosen together. There was nothing left she needed to prove to those rooms.
She would not trade away another night just to make this marriage look whole.
Nayara opened the door and walked out. At the gate, she ordered a car to her father’s house in Depok. She did not yet know what she would say when she arrived, nor how long she could depend on a temporary refuge before she had to piece together a life of her own. The uncertainty was real, but for the first time, Arven was not the one deciding it.
The car stopped a few minutes later. Nayara got into the back seat, placed the small bag beside her, and told the driver where to go.
As the vehicle began to move, the house slowly fell behind. Arven and Marlena remained there, while Nayara carried one decision that was finally truly hers: she would no longer wait for love from someone who had deliberately withheld it from her.