Early 2017.

On a quiet roadside in Tangerang, rows of half-finished, empty shophouses stand in shadows. The dim streetlights flicker, struggling against a persistent electrical fault. Parked beneath the relentless rain sits an old Kijang. Inside, a woman with long hair adjusts her glasses. She's only worn them for a week, and the unfamiliarity feels awkward. But, perhaps, this small act betrays her anxiety—a sharp, haunting ache in her chest as she realizes that from today, hope is slipping from her grasp.


Amir and Kia are like Galih and Ratna; their school love story is nothing short of legendary. He, the brainy IT lab assistant, and she, the bookworm working part-time at the library. The only obstacle between them? Their religion.

In Indonesia, marriage laws require that both partners share the same religion to have their marriage legally recognized. This is based on Indonesian law, which follows religious guidelines for marriage registration.

After high school, they separated for the first time, thinking they'd never cross paths again. But Kia fought fiercely to keep their love alive. Despite everything, Amir welcomed her back into his life. However, love quickly became a fragile illusion once more when Kia's father discovered them together. Time and again, her father's presence loomed, pulling them apart. Kia was arranged to meet several prospective matches, all of which failed. Yet Amir remained by her side, even at a distance.


But this year feels different.

Kia's father's health is faltering, his blood pressure dangerously high—a consequence, he believes, of Kia's rebellious spirit. Witnessing this, Amir begins to realize a painful truth: no matter how far they try to escape, fate will continue to find them, each time tearing their hearts further apart.


Behind the wheel, Amir sits in quiet composure, hands on the steering wheel. There is no visible tremor, no sign of turmoil, though perhaps it's only a mask.

A month earlier, Amir had secured a job at a budding education company, thanks to Kia's help. Though he hadn't met the official qualifications, she found a way to get him a position in IT that matched his skill set—a small victory, and an attempt to keep him close.

'Do you see now? It was all for nothing," Amir says, his voice hoarse. His words bring a small, wistful smile to Kia's face; she knows that tone only appears when he's struggling inside.

'It might be for nothing, but it was worth it," she replies softly. 'Every second with you is a golden memory, Amir, one I'll treasure forever."

Amir turns to her, and she reaches over, her fingers gently touching his face. Were her father to see this act of defiance, she could hardly imagine the consequences. But for now, she stands her ground, believing every stolen moment is worth it.

Moving closer, Kia cups Amir's face with both hands. Her eyes trace the familiar contours—the warm brown skin, the faint beard shadowing his cheeks, his slightly crooked nose. She presses her lips to his, a soft kiss held in place by a love so pure it needs nothing more. She smiles as she draws back. 'We'll have more time together when we're working in the same office. We'll still be close."

'As friends." His words bring an abrupt end to her smile.

'There are no friends who kiss, Amir."

'This will be the last time. You need to keep your promise to your father, Kia. He's only been strict because of how much you've resisted him."

'I resist because he's unfair. Why should I obey if he's controlling my life?"

'It's a cycle that won't end that way."

'Then when does it end? When one of us is dead?"

'Don't say that," Amir murmurs, his voice shaking slightly.

'Maybe it's true." Her words quiver, her tears on the verge of falling.

He glances at his watch. 'It's time to go."

Reluctantly, Kia lets her hand fall from Amir's face. She's known this moment was coming; today marks her first step in letting him go. For the last time, they look at each other, sharing a sorrowful gaze—a love that was never given a chance to fully bloom, now forced to wither.

Kia lowers her head as a tear escapes, gliding down her cheek. She reaches for the door handle.

'Kia…" Amir's voice breaks the silence.

She turns back to him. This time, she lets him pull her close, their lips meeting once more, and for that brief moment, she's swept away by the beauty of it. A single, unforgettable kiss that will forever linger in their memories.

Breaking up is never easy, especially when it's imposed by forces beyond their control.

A few months into his new job at the office, Amir finally begins to live independently, renting a modest apartment in North Jakarta. Here, he's free—no parental restraints, no curfews, no judgment about who he sees or what he eats.

Amir sat alone at the bar, ignoring the pounding music as he listened to Dewa's song through a pair of wired earphones. He needed the crowd, the comfort of knowing he wasn't entirely alone, but he preferred to remain in his own world. A half-empty glass of vodka sat in front of him, and his nose was already tinged red.

With a slight sigh, he swirled the glass, watching the tilted lemon slice. His brain felt just as skewed as that slice, his thoughts tangled. Finding a job had been difficult enough, but choosing to work in the same office as an ex? That, he knew, was a whole new level of foolishness.

Kia had claimed they would feel lighter, that seeing each other frequently would ease things. But if each meeting only deepened the ache, what was the point?

Suddenly, the music in one ear stopped.

Amir turned to see a petite woman with dark red hair pulling out his earbud and slipping it into her ear, before she slid onto the stool beside him. Without a hint of guilt, she listened, her face focused as she absorbed the music. She scowled, chewing gum. 'Really? Sappy romance?"

Amir's slightly foggy mind tried to process her appearance. Despite her petite build, her figure was strikingly curvy, her skin as pale and unblemished as a sheet of paper. And her wavy, dark red hair reminded him of a name he hadn't thought of since childhood—Ariel. The little mermaid.

Her small, sharp eyes assessed him, her lips thin and pink, her nose delicate but perfectly balanced. And, oddly, she smelled faintly of lemon, mixed with a hint of the sea breeze.

'Yes," he replied, meeting her sardonic smile with his own. 'A classic. A masterpiece, really."

Her annoyance transformed into a genuine smile. 'I suppose you're right. Some things can't be replaced."

'Why the curiosity?" Amir took a small sip of his drink.

'Curiosity about what?"

'Why certain bands, certain songs, get stuck in people's hearts. Why they hold on, even when other things change."

The woman propped her chin in her hand, studying him with newfound interest. Her gaze was too perceptive for someone meeting him for the first time. 'Hmm. Maybe because people don't want things to get complicated. They find something that resonates, and they settle in, get comfortable. No need for anything else, right?"

Amir didn't fully understand her answer. He only shrugged, taking another drink.

'Like an ex," she continued, ignoring Amir's cough as he nearly choked on his drink. 'They're not actually that special. But memories have a way of carving out a space in our minds, making us think it's harder to move on than it really is."

'You say that like you know something." Amir set his glass down heavily.

She tilted her head, unphased. 'I wouldn't say it if I didn't."

'Let me guess: you're the type who pretends to be an expert on love, acts like you've got it all figured out, but you vanish before anyone gets too close. Listen, I'm not here to pick up a fight, and I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone tonight. So, if that's all you're here for, move along."

'Wow." She raised her eyebrows, amused. 'Handsome, smart-mouthed, and wounded. My favorite kind."

She leaned in until her face was an inch from his. 'Guys like you are usually victims. And girls like me? We're the ones who get burned in the end."

Their eyes locked, the air charged with silent understanding. It was only a glance, an unspoken agreement born of shared longing and unexpressed hopes—a fleeting moment acknowledging that both might end up hurt.

But this was a club, after all—a place where fleeting hopes gave way to primal urges.

'Amir," he finally said, introducing himself.

She smirked, her eyes darkening. 'Nice to meet you, Amir. I'll be screaming that name later, then."

She brazenly picked up his glass and downed the last drop.

'Damn…" Amir muttered, rubbing his forehead as her words sparked visions that burned through his mind.

'Mine's Marella. Most people call me Ella. But you… can call me if you want to see me shake you up a bit."

They both burst out laughing, then stilled. But as their gazes met again, both of them nodded slowly, silently sealing an unspoken promise.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into a cramped, single-bedroom apartment on the twenty-fifth floor near the station. The bed was messy, its sheets barely covering the two figures lying entangled beneath.

The man's arm draped over the woman's waist, her hand resting on his as though afraid to let go. Both were awake, yet neither moved, savoring the lingering warmth of the other's presence.

They lay there, two people caught between memory and desire, savoring one last moment of peace before reality inevitably returned.

Ella broke the silence first. 'Next time…no condom," she said in a raspy voice.

Amir's eyes snapped open, surprised. 'Next time? You mean you want a next time?"

Turning to face him, Ella smiled as sunlight fell on her face, making her look even more human, the little imperfections making her more real. 'Yep. You know, heartbreak gives men a kind of energy they don't usually have. That's why, as long as you're still mad at her, call me."

'Wow, so you're saying I should just keep being mad?" Amir smirked, pulling her closer.

She brushed her hand down his face, looking serious but with a glimmer of mischief. 'Maybe. Or, you could love me instead."

'Oh, so you're hooked now, huh?" he laughed, and so did she.

Ella started spending more nights at Amir's place, bringing her clothes, her laptop, even groceries. The apartment transformed, filled with her warmth. She welcomed him after work, handing him a towel so he could shower while she finished cooking. They shared meals and conversations about life, her online business, and a thousand little things that filled the space with laughter.

Six months flew by, and they eventually decided to become a couple. Kia had once confronted Amir, criticizing his taste, but by then, it didn't matter. Amir was sure; he had moved on.

One evening, Ella complained of feeling weak. After a delay in her period, they went to the doctor. When the doctor congratulated them on their pregnancy, Amir felt a mix of shock and happiness, his heart swelling at the thought of becoming a father. He continued to cherish her, holding her in his arms each night, unaware of the storm that would soon brew.

One hot afternoon, under the blazing sun in Tangerang, Amir walked into his small, blue-painted living room, where the warmth of Ella's presence had made his apartment a true home.

The old man with white hair rose from his seat, ready to slap his son, who knelt before him. A harsh slap echoed, making Ella, who was now in the arms of a middle-aged woman, startle.

'Ungrateful child!" he shouted, his voice trembling with fury. 'A sinner! A filthy, shameless human being!"

'Please, Papa…"

'Look at him! Look at them! They have the nerve to seek our blessing when they come tainted! What blessing could they possibly want? Do they think I'll welcome an adulteress into this family?"

'Papa, please, that's enough. What's done is done. Think of the poor child growing inside Ella." The mother trying.

'We have prayed endlessly for our only son, prayed for his success, for his health, for his prosperity—and this is how he repays us? By disgracing us? I am ashamed to call you my son! Don't even think of me as your father ever again!"

'Papa!" Amir called after him, but his father slammed a glass ashtray on the table, shattering it with a loud crash. Without looking back, he stormed out. That day would be the last time Amir's father ever spoke to him.

Amir thought he could live independently. He had a steady job, a place to live, a beautiful woman he loved, and soon a wedding in a grand hotel, even though his father refused to attend. But he soon discovered that a marriage without parental support posed its own challenges. As Ella's pregnancy progressed, Amir started to feel that their apartment might not be the healthiest environment for their future child.

One morning, over fried rice, Ella gently suggested, 'Honey, what if we dip into our savings and see how close we are to buying a proper house?"

'Yes, let's check tonight when I get home," Amir agreed, smiling at her.

When they totaled their savings, Ella's was far greater than Amir's. Together, they had nearly a billion rupiah, with more than half coming from Ella.

'If we wanted, we could buy a house now," she said as they sat on their bed, browsing listings on Amir's iPad. 'But if we saved a little more, we could afford something even better."

Amir nodded thoughtfully. 'Yes, maybe that's a good idea."

Ella then asked, 'Do you mind if I get back to work?"

'Which business, honey?" Amir replied, worried. 'I don't want you overexerting yourself."

'My online business, of course. I won't push myself, don't worry."

'Promise me, okay?" he said, squeezing her hand. 'If you're feeling tired or unwell, you'll stop."

Ella grinned, sealing her promise with a kiss.

Once again, Ella surprised Amir with her sharp mind and ambition. Her business expanded into reselling luxury bags, trading, and investing—all from home. When their savings surpassed the billion mark, they started house hunting near Amir's family in Tangerang. They felt hopeful that, at least, Amir's mother would visit them if they needed her support. Though Amir's father hadn't softened his stance, they bought a spacious, two-story home just nine minutes from his family's residence.

Just as they were about to settle into their new home, Ella went into labor. She was admitted to the hospital, and in May 2019, their daughter, Sheyna, was born. Ella had chosen the name from a list Amir's mother provided. Sheyna shared a resemblance to Amir's name, both of Arabic origin, meaning "smile." Ella hoped their daughter would carry a smile that lit up her life and the lives of others, just as Amir's had since he found peace with Ella.

However, on the day Amir returned to the office with pizzas to celebrate Sheyna's birth, he learned Kia had suffered her second miscarriage since her marriage to Fiki. Her bitterness toward Amir grew.

Amir's life felt almost perfect. He had a beautiful wife with a flourishing business, a lovely home, a supportive mother, and a stable career. Ella's business expanded again, this time into organizing a branded bag lottery, bringing her closer to five women from her office, including Kia and another colleague, Janet, who was Steve's wife. Ella's warm, approachable nature eventually even won Kia over, leading them to build a cautious friendship.

But as the months wore on, Amir started to notice subtle changes in Ella. Small gestures she once offered willingly began to vanish. She no longer greeted him after work, didn't cook, and rarely woke to soothe Sheyna when she cried at night. Amir brushed it off, convincing himself it was just the toll of new motherhood.

Then, in May 2020, on a quiet Sunday morning, Ella vanished.

That same afternoon, two men came to the door, demanding payment for debts Ella had left behind. The next day, the police showed up, and the day after, Kia and Janet arrived on behalf of the social group members, searching for Ella, who still hadn't returned.

The smiles Amir had grown accustomed to seeing every day slowly faded from his life.

In the throes of despair, numb and lost, he watched as his mother cradled Sheyna. Even his father, estranged but dignified, arrived to support him.

'But you weren't involved, were you, son?" his father asked gently.

Involved in what? Amir couldn't understand; the sheer shock left him grappling for answers. Everything they had seemed legitimate—fruits of Ella's brilliance and resourcefulness. Yet now, he found himself questioning it all.

'Amir, you're going to need to handle this. Your mother and I have asked Uncle Vincent to represent you legally. Just leave the rest to God, son."

God.

The weight of his father's presence, calm yet restrained, made Amir realize that his father was holding back, trying not to overwhelm him further. Amir sank into the darkness of the empty living room, his body racked with tremors and silent tears.

'I'm sorry, God. I'm so sorry…" His voice trembled, pleading, as he clung to some semblance of solace. The days blurred into a haze of police summons, shame-faced meetings with his lawyer, Uncle Vincent, and gut-wrenching moments in court. Amir's soul felt crushed, each passing hour a relentless pounding.

After months of exhaustive police work, Ella was finally apprehended. Marella Sidharta, as her real name turned out to be, was a known member of an organized investment fraud ring and involved in luxury goods smuggling.

When Amir was declared innocent of any involvement, he was relieved but hollow. He couldn't shake the memory of how their love began, the magnetic pull that blinded him to so much.

His initial meeting with Ella felt tainted now, as though every fond memory had been twisted into something sordid. The truth left him reeling, a constant reminder of the betrayal that shattered his life.

The emotional toll finally took a physical form; Amir ended up hospitalized. Lying in a hospital bed, weak but newly grateful, he was moved to tears when his mother visited, holding Sheyna in her arms.

The future Amir had carefully crafted for Sheyna had crumbled. Ella's assets were seized, and Amir even sold their home to cover her debts and compensate her victims, including his own colleagues. But to his relief, the police cleared him of any wrongdoing.

Moving into a modest house in East Jakarta, Amir found peace in starting anew. With the help of his mother and the silent strength of his father, he began the long journey of rebuilding his life and creating a simpler, but genuine, future for Sheyna.

And as he unpacked their belongings in their small home, Amir whispered, 'Thank you, God, for giving me the chance to start again."

"As my condolences for what you've been through," Mrs. Berta took two sheets from the accounting folder in her hand. "We, as witnesses, will vow to keep your case confidential, especially here within the other employees. I've decided this so you can work without fear of harassment, sarcasm, or conflicts in the future." She looked over at Steve and Kia. "Can I count on you both for support?"

Kia nodded immediately, and after a pause, Steve did the same. They signed the document, and Amir's silent tears began to fall as he felt, perhaps for the first time, God's hand protecting his good name.

That night at eight o'clock, in front of the office, Amir waited for Mr. Wahyu to return his motorbike, while Kia waited for her ride. They sat on a worn wooden bench, quietly at first. Finally, Kia broke the silence.

"In the future," she said softly, "if you're ever serious about someone again, tell me first. Let me make sure she's right for you."

Amir lowered his head, remembering how Kia had warned him. Marrying someone he met in a club had never been wise, and Kia had been suspicious of Ella from the start.

Before long, Fiki's car arrived, but instead of honking for Kia, he stepped out and approached Amir. Amir was startled but didn't resist as Fiki laid a supportive hand on his shoulder. 'Be strong, alright? You need to be strong for Sheyna."

The gesture was unexpected and touched Amir deeply. Tears came again. Moving forward felt impossible with this weight on his shoulders, but somehow, he sensed he wasn't alone.

In the office, only Mrs. Berta, Kia, and Steve knew the full extent of his troubles. Amir understood why Erin had been avoiding him lately. She hadn't been to work since Tuesday, claiming she was unwell, but he suspected it was more than that. If she truly despised him because of what she'd learned, he couldn't blame her.

Amir found himself on his mother's porch that Friday night, cigarettes in hand, alternating between Jakarta and Tangerang these days to escape the suffocating loneliness of his own home. His mother sat with him, both of them leaning against the pillar, gazing at the wide yard. The same yard he'd played in as a child had now become Sheyna's domain. Despite his father's silent disapproval, Amir saw him caring for Sheyna with boundless love, the grandfather-child bond flourishing amidst the family's chaos.

'She still hasn't come to work, has she?" his mother asked, referring to Erin. Amir shook his head. She'd avoided contact, and even Nathan refused his calls, clearly obeying her wishes.

'Her reaction is natural, don't you think?" his mother prodded gently, always nudging him to see from a broader perspective.

Amir nodded, finally understanding. Erin would likely break up with him. He had to be ready to let go of her—the fire in his heart, the calmness she brought to his soul, the love he'd been convinced he didn't deserve.

'Remember, son," his mother's voice softened, 'God only wants the best for you. Stay close to Him, and everything will be okay. Life's trials without God will destroy you, but when you face them with Him, they'll make you stronger."

Her words struck home. Amir took a long, deep drag on his cigarette, exhaling the pain that had trapped him for so long. If letting Erin go was what would bring her happiness and allow him peace, he would do it.

***