Once Your Wife, Now Your Greatest Desire

That day, the sky was overcast—mirroring Nayla’s unsettled heart. At the orphanage where she had lived since she was fourteen, her days were filled with the same old routine—helping the caretakers clean, looking after the younger children, and occasionally teaching them how to read. There was nothing remarkable about her life, except for one thing: the memory of her warm and loving father. Nayla sat in the orphanage’s modest common room, staring blankly at a worn-out book she had read countless times. Her mind drifted to her father, who always smiled and stroked her hair before bed. She remembered how he used to tell stories about her late mother—a strong woman who died giving birth to her. A mother she only knew through a single photograph in the old family album. Suddenly, footsteps echoed through the hallway. She looked up and saw Mrs. Deborah, the head of the orphanage, walking in hurriedly. “Nayla.” “Yes, Ma’am?” she replied gently. “There’s someone here asking for you. He says… he’s a relative of your father.” Nayla turned her head, following the direction of Mrs. Deborah’s finger—toward a man standing near the door. Their eyes met. He wore a black suit, his expression stern, accompanied by another man who stood quietly beside him. The man in the expensive suit began walking slowly toward her. When he stopped in front of her, he half-smiled and spoke. “You’re Nayla Arshani?” “Yes… I am.” He took off his sunglasses and smiled—an unfamiliar smile, but for some reason, it made her chest tighten. “I’m Arman. Your father’s younger brother. David Arshani’s brother.” Nayla’s heart skipped a beat. Her breath caught in her throat. “W–What?” “I’m your uncle, Nayla. I’ve come to take you with me.” “You’re… my uncle?” she asked, hardly believing it. “Yes, dear. Didn’t your father ever mention me?” Nayla fell silent, digging through her memories. Her father had only briefly mentioned having a brother who had been out of touch for years. He never spoke much about his family. It always felt like a closed chapter. “Why so quiet? I guess my visit must be a surprise.” Arman chuckled and stepped forward to hug her. Still bewildered, Nayla froze in the awkward embrace. “I can’t believe my brother’s daughter is all grown up.” This unexpected encounter felt like the first crack in a sealed history. “Let’s sit down first, Mr. Arman. You can explain everything calmly to Nayla,” Mrs. Deborah offered. The three of them sat down. Nayla sat next to the orphanage head, still feeling uneasy beside this man who called himself her uncle. There was a distance—a caution she couldn’t shake. “Here are my documents,” Arman said, handing over a brown folder. “There’s also a childhood photo of me with David.” Nayla leaned closer and examined the photo. It was indeed her father as a child, standing beside another boy with similar features. It had to be Arman. “Well?” Arman asked. “Do you believe me now? You can keep a copy of my ID and the photo.” Mrs. Deborah nodded, then asked directly, “So, your intention in coming here is to take Nayla with you?” “Yes, Mrs. Deborah. I believe Nayla will be better off with me. I can guarantee her a proper life. I’m the only family she has left.” Nayla sat stiffly, staring at the man as if a ghost from her past had come back to life. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen his face before. “All this time… I thought I had no family,” she murmured, her eyes glistening. “I understand,” Arman sighed. “You must’ve felt abandoned. I’ve been living and working abroad—in Frankfurt, Germany. I didn’t know David and his wife had passed away. I only found out you were here when your father’s former lawyer contacted me.” “Why didn’t you look for me earlier?” Nayla’s voice cracked with emotion—confused, hurt. “I assumed you were still with your mother… but then I learned she had passed away. I was too late, Nayla. Please forgive me. But I’m here now.” A heavy silence fell between them. For her whole life, Nayla believed she had been completely alone since her father died in an accident. No relatives came for her. She felt discarded. Forgotten. And now, a stranger claiming to be her uncle suddenly appeared and wanted to take her away from the only home she had known since she was fourteen. “May I ask… why are you coming for me now?” Nayla’s voice was barely a whisper. Arman opened his leather bag and pulled out a brown envelope. Inside were official documents and a letter that looked oddly familiar. “This is a letter from your father’s lawyer. Today, your father’s estate is finally being opened. And Nayla—you are the sole legal heir.” Nayla gasped, exchanging glances with Mrs. Deborah. “Are you sure my father left behind an inheritance? We lived so simply. He never lived lavishly or bought anything fancy,” Nayla said, disbelief thick in her tone. Arman chuckled softly. “That’s what made your father extraordinary. He never flaunted his wealth. He was a brilliant man who built quietly. He didn’t need to show it—money came to him naturally.” “Did he ever seem like he was working regularly?” he added. Nayla shook her head. “He only left occasionally. I thought he just had errands.” “Your father didn’t need a 9-to-5, Nayla. He owned a company. And even after his passing, the business kept growing.” Nayla thought deeply. It was true—her father never left every morning like other dads, and yet, they always had enough. She was never in need. He always fulfilled her requests, regardless of the cost. Only now did she understand. “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the lawyer’s office. You’ll learn everything your father left behind. I’ll pick you up at eight.” “Mrs. Deborah, thank you for your time. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Arman stood up, hugged his niece briefly, and then left the room. “Ma’am… what should I do?” Nayla turned to the woman she trusted most. Mrs. Deborah sighed and held her hand warmly. Nayla was the oldest girl in the orphanage, practically like her own daughter. “You need to move forward with your life, Nayla. Your father’s inheritance is your future. It’s the fruit of his labor, and you must protect it.” “Does that mean… I have to leave this place?” her voice trembled. “Life must go on, child. Take what belongs to you. And remember—you can always come back to visit. This orphanage will always welcome you.” Nayla hugged Mrs. Deborah tightly, not wanting to let go. Though the place was simple and sometimes lonely, it was her safe haven. But now, a bigger world awaited her outside. After discussing it with the orphanage staff and reviewing the official documents Arman provided—confirming he was indeed David’s brother—Nayla agreed to go, though her heart brimmed with hesitation. Sitting inside the black luxury car that picked her up, Nayla remained silent. The noise and chaos of Jakarta’s streets mirrored the confusion in her heart. Her mind raced with thoughts of Arman. “Uncle… My father never really told me about you. Maybe once, briefly,” Nayla finally said, trying to ease the tension. Arman laughed softly. “At the time, I was busy overseas. Rarely came home. And David was… stubborn. You know how he was. We had a falling-out. He didn’t want me to leave the country. But I insisted. So we grew distant.” Nayla nodded slowly. Her father had always been quiet and private. But also deeply loving. She remembered how he once hid his injury just so she wouldn’t worry. Maybe he had kept many things to himself. “My father was a good man… and he loved me so much,” Nayla murmured. Arman smiled, but there was no emotion in his eyes. “Yes. He was a good man…” And behind that smile, Arman turned to look out the window—his mind already weaving a plan. The car stopped in front of a grand colonial-style house in an elite neighborhood. A place Nayla had only seen in dreams. “From now on, you’ll live here,” Arman said as he opened the car door. Nayla stepped out slowly, her heart racing. “This is where your father grew up… and now, it all belongs to you.” She gazed at the massive double doors and wide courtyard. A new world stood before her—one that felt too perfect to be real. “This was my father’s childhood home?” she asked, nearly in disbelief. “Yes. Our parents were very wealthy, Nayla,” Arman answered, dragging her suitcase along. “But… he never said anything.” “Your father was independent. He had a rebellious spirit. He didn’t like being tied down to our family’s image.” “Come on, let’s go in. Your room is ready,” Arman said, taking her hand. Two servants greeted them at the door. Nayla stood in awe. In her entire life, she had never stepped foot in a house this grand. She never imagined she came from a family of wealth.