“Even if I’m matched with another man, I’ll love you forever,” a long-haired woman with see-through bangs thought, her eyes barely blinking as she watched her target.
The party’s luxurious bustle kept everyone busy with their own affairs. A man in a neatly pressed black shirt raised his glass slightly and clinked it with his companion’s. Meanwhile, the same woman continued staring intently at him from across the room, gently swirling the wineglass in her hand.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. How peaceful her life felt whenever she saw him flaunting his happiness in front of the other guests. Her focus broke when a short-haired woman came to stand beside her. They clinked glasses briefly, then looked back at their target, who was actively chatting away.
“It really is fun watching someone else’s man,” the short-haired woman commented, her words striking a little too close to home.
Harlette’s smirk grew more pronounced. She glanced at her best friend. “I swear I could compete with anyone to win him over, but not with my own older sister.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d end up poor after betraying my family.”
“That makes sense, but how long are you going to keep staring at him from afar?” Morana asked as she followed Harlette’s steps.
“Until I’m full.”
“But men are never filling. We’d be better off eating a pastry—” She broke off as Harlette stopped in her tracks. Morana touched a finger to her own lips.
Harlette shot an exasperated look at the friend who could never control her mouth. “Eat until you’re full by yourself. We each have our own menu, and I think I’m already full from looking at him. I’m going home now.”
“But the party isn’t over yet!” Morana cried. Harlette no longer cared. “Fine,” Morana said resignedly.
The woman gave a small wave as Harlette left her. One person left, and another arrived to keep her company. Madeleine handed her a pastry, having overheard them while she was coming over.
“Thanks,” she said.
“I told you, she definitely likes Mr. Dimitriv,” Serena remarked.
A look of panic suddenly swept across Morana’s face. “There’s no way she likes her own sister’s fiancé.”
Madeleine gave a small laugh. “No matter how hard you try to cover up a lie, it won’t work in front of Serena. You know she’s a psychic.”
Morana cleared her throat for quite some time, then left the two women, who were quite pleased to have solved the mystery of which man their best friend Harlette liked—a mystery that had nearly driven them crazy with curiosity. Harlette was usually very open, but this time she absolutely refused to say a word whenever the subject of the man she liked came up. Apparently, that was because he was her own sister’s fiancé: Dimitriv Rayne Aryasatya, the first son and first grandson of the Aryasatya family line.
The three women took seats on one of the sofas in the party room. Serena and Madeleine watched Dimitriv refill his glass with wine. Morana glanced at them, worry etching itself across her face.
“Are you afraid we’ll tell Mr. Dimitriv?” Serena asked with a faint smile, without even looking in Morana’s direction.
“Does Harlette know about this? I hope she doesn’t, or she’ll be embarrassed. Ah, even if she does know, just tell her you figured it out yourselves, not from me.”
“No wonder Harlette is always stuffing bread into your mouth. You never stop talking.”
Morana’s lips pressed together more firmly when Madeleine commented on her. Her chattiness ran in the family, so she had a hard time controlling it. Fortunately, that loose tongue helped her fit in anywhere, greet her fans, and strengthen her cheerful image as an actress.
“This is such a plot twist. I never saw it coming,” Madeleine commented. “Do you think their ship will sail?”
“Of course. Nothing is impossible in this world.”
“No, I don’t think so.” Morana disagreed with Serena. “How could she take her own sister’s place? Besides, she should try to fall in love with Noah.”
“One hundred million. How about it?” Madeleine made an offer.
“Damn it, a businesswoman’s brain always comes down to money,” Morana joked. “I’m sure this love story will sink.”
They made the man the subject of an entertaining conversation in the midst of the rather hectic party. When Serena offered no response, Madeleine and Morana turned toward her at the same time. She was staring at Dimitriv, who knew what she was thinking—perhaps doing some careful calculations.
“I said yes,” Serena declared confidently.
“You two are awfully confident.” As the only one standing alone, Morana was convinced by the voice in her head that Harlette’s love for Dimitriv would soon be crushed by her own sister’s wedding.
If Harlette knew she was being served up as gossip, she would probably be furious.
The man standing across the room had felt watched for some time, so he turned toward the three women, who immediately looked away in different directions. Dimitriv’s eyes swept around the room for a moment, searching for something that should have been there too.
“What’s wrong, Dim?” his best friend Dane asked.
“Nothing.” Dimitriv reached out to accept Dane’s wineglass.
“Hi,” Harlette greeted her older sister, who was sitting on the sofa with a tablet displaying artistic images. Her finger moved in its usual scrolling rhythm.
“You’re home awfully early. I thought the party wasn’t over yet.”
“I came home because I’m full.”
“What did you eat?”
“Someone.”
Her younger sister’s answer shifted her attention, and she turned around in surprise to watch Harlette climb the stairs. The strange answer left her baffled. Was her sister a cannibal?
As soon as she reached her room, Harlette flung her bag aside, and it struck the glass of her wardrobe. The branded bag had to accept being ignored as it lay abandoned on the floor. She collapsed onto her bed, sufficiently irritated.
“God, why wasn’t I born the first child?” she wailed, even though most people probably wished they hadn’t been born first in their families because the duties and burdens were so heavy.
The woman rolled onto her side. She remembered how captivating Dimitriv had looked at the party. It was terribly frustrating to be able to admire someone from afar without ever having him. A faint smile touched Harlette’s face. Dimitriv, you’re absolutely perfect, she thought.
Harlette sprang up from her bed and sat at the small desk in her room. She opened a music box disguised as a key-storage box, then pinched one key between two fingers and took it out.
She stood again and walked to the bookshelf, filled with a variety of novels. She had dedicated one row to the spectacular novels written by her best friend. Harlette touched the side of the shelf and slid it aside, revealing a door hidden behind the rows of books.
Harlette quickly inserted the key into the lock and entered the secret room she had hidden from the eyes of the entire world. A computer with a wide screen stood solidly on the desk, along with a silver laptop and several cameras scattered across its surface. Harlette walked closer, then pulled away a white cloth covering one side of the wall.
The photographs mounted so carefully came fully into view. Dozens of pictures in various sizes and from different angles covered the wood-framed wall, arranged in an irregular pattern like shattered glass. The same face appeared in as many photos as had been taken, captured during different activities and from countless directions.
The man’s name was Dimitriv Rayne Aryasatya, the primary heir to the Aryasatya Group, which managed hotels and resorts.
Harlette’s thumbs danced across her phone screen. She tapped it once, and a soft hum sounded from the far end of the room. Harlette turned and went to the table supporting a printer. Once again, a smile appeared on her face in celebration of that happy night.
She reached out and took Dimitriv’s newest photograph.
She made sure to write a small note on the back of the photo recording the date it had been taken and the moment it captured. Then she pinned the latest photo to the wall, adding to her collection of Dimitriv, the man she adored who had instead been matched with her older sister.
Harlette sat in the chair facing the computer. She turned it on, and a close-up photo of Dimitriv immediately appeared as the wallpaper. Harlette played romantic music at low volume and began immersing herself in her sweet life, which was always about Dimitriv. She pulled open the side drawer of the desk. Inside were several envelopes containing letters Violette had written to Dimitriv, which Harlette had photocopied beforehand. Harlette chose one envelope from the rest.
May 2021. A date written on one of the envelopes. Harlette felt compelled to read it again because this letter hurt the most. She had been the one to deliver it to Dimitriv back then. In fact, she had always been the one to deliver them to him.
Flashback on.
The sound of high heels approached. A woman in a red bodycon dress came striding elegantly into view. A matching-colored handbag hung from her left hand. Her hair was long, with bangs.
“You have a guest, Sis. I’ll leave you two alone,” Seara announced. She stood up. “You’re getting prettier, Sis Harlette,” she complimented the guest.
Harlette blushed. “You’re too sweet.”
Harlette sat on the sofa across from Dimitriv. She gave him a sweet smile to open the conversation.
“I need to tell you something that looks like it’s going to cause another fight in this family.” Harlette took something out of her bag. “I don’t know why I keep getting involved in things between the two of you… Mr. Dimitriv.”
The woman placed two fingers on the paper and slid it closer to Dimitriv. He picked up the letter and began reading. Yet Dimitriv looked perfectly calm as he read the neatly written lines.
“You’re not surprised?”
“We have to be prepared for the worst, Lette.” Dimitriv held up the letter and continued, “This isn’t the first letter I’ve received from your sister.” He tossed it back onto the table.
Harlette lightly bit the inside of her lip, then voiced the question that had been nagging at her. “Then what are you going to do?”
“Give her more time to accept our engagement.”
“Even though my sister doesn’t love you?”
Dimitriv gave a faint nod. “Even if I loved another woman, I would bury those feelings deep and still marry your sister.”
Flashback off.
Harlette rested her head against the swivel chair and laughed bitterly as she remembered the most infuriating moment of her life—the moment she had to hear Dimitriv’s confession, which had torn at her sincere heart. Their arranged match had been planned since childhood, and Harlette had to accept the bitter reality that her love for Dimitriv would remain unrequited.
That was why she had created this secret room, where she could freely admire, love, and gaze at Dimitriv to her heart’s content before he became her brother-in-law. Harlette did the math in her head. Her love had lasted at least nineteen years—ever since she was seven years old and first fell for a very kind, sweet little boy.
Her phone vibrated. Morana was calling on video. Harlette answered. Her three best friends appeared on the nearly bezel-less folding screen.
“Happy New Year, Harlette!” the three of them shouted together.
“Happy New Year, girls. Is the party still fun?”
No one answered her question. Instead, the camera suddenly shifted, focusing on Dimitriv, who unexpectedly looked straight at the lens. Harlette immediately ended the call, her nerves getting the better of her.
“Damn you, Morana,” she muttered.
Her friends, meanwhile, were delighted by the look of panic on her face. The idea had come spontaneously from Madeleine.
“Looks like Mr. Dimitriv knows we were gossiping about him,” Serena remarked.
“Shut up and stop looking at him,” Morana said.
How could Dimitriv not have noticed them watching when their every movement was so obvious? Once again, Dane noticed that Dimitriv kept looking in the other direction.
“What’s wrong, Dim? Did Violette come?”
“She’s celebrating with her family.”
Dane gave a faint, repeated nod. “Happy New Year, everybody!” he shouted loudly to the invited guests, steering the conversation with Dimitriv in another direction.
The New Year’s party was hosted by Dane, who had invited Jakarta’s most prominent young people from all kinds of professions and social circles. It could be called an annual event that Dimitriv’s best friend never missed.
Harlette came downstairs after her older sister texted her to join the extended family in the backyard. Everyone had gathered and seemed to be discussing something exciting while grilling barbecue and sausages whose aroma bewitched the senses.
Harlette stood beside Violette. “Happy New Year, Sis!” she said, receiving only a small nod in response.
Miranti Kartasasmita, their mother, walked over carrying two sausages and handed them to her daughters one by one. Harlette accepted hers and began blowing on it because it was hot.
“Are you going to design your own dress, or should I do it?” Miranti asked Violette.
“What dress?” Harlette interrupted.
“Your sister’s wedding dress.”
Harlette suddenly began coughing, nearly choking on her food when she heard her mother’s answer. She panicked, then ran to get a glass of something to drink. Harlette was utterly stunned. It was as if the beautiful world she had built had been hit by an atomic bomb and obliterated in an instant.
Miranti returned with a glass, and Harlette gulped it down.
“Are you all right now?”
“I’m fine, Mom. It was just hot.”
“Sweetheart, help me move this.” Erwin, her husband, called out, making Miranti hurry off in the other direction and leave her two daughters behind.
The sausage Miranti had given Violette still looked untouched in her hand, her gaze nearly vacant. Her younger sister tried to act normal and keep the secret she had buried deep from showing too clearly. She didn’t want her older sister to know that she loved her future husband.
But her throat itched with the need to ask, “Are you in love with Mr. Dimitriv already? That’s the condition for the wedding, isn’t it?”
Silence. There was no answer, and Violette had no intention of giving one. Harlette’s life felt cursed. After loving Dimitriv for nineteen years, she suddenly had to end that love because he was going to marry Violette. She wasn’t ready for such a sudden shock.
Harlette stared at her sister when no answer came. Slowly, Violette shifted her gaze toward her younger sister. In the end, the two of them simply stared at each other, with no explanation for the suddenly announced wedding plans.
Happy New Year, 2024. Happy beginning to the destruction of the love in your heart, Harlette Cyra Kartasasmita, even though you would always rebel and insist on saying no.