Yor Regret is Too Late!

5

The lines of logarithmic formulas on the whiteboard looked like a parade of boring black ants to Aria. In the back corner of the classroom, her head was lowered deeply, her hands moving nimbly across a notebook that should have been filled with numbers. However, instead of digits, an evening gown with an A-line silhouette and intricate rose embroidery on the bodice was slowly taking shape.

This was her only escape. The one place where she wasn't a "manufacturing defect," but a creator of beauty.

"Aria Maheswari!"

The booming voice of Mrs. Ratmi, their math teacher, shattered Aria’s concentration. Her heart dropped. Before Aria could close her notebook, Mrs. Ratmi’s thin hand aggressively snatched it away.

"No wonder your grade is a forty-two! Is your brain filled with nothing but fabric trash like this?" Mrs. Ratmi held the notebook high in the air, flaunting Aria’s sketch to the entire class.

Bursters of laughter erupted. Aria felt her face burn with shame. She saw Aileen in the front row merely offering a faint smirk, while Asher, sitting right next to Aileen, stared at her with an unreadable expression—cold and dismissive.

"Follow me to the office! I am tired of warning you. Today, your parents need to know exactly what you're doing in my class!"

*

The living room of the Maheswari estate felt suffocating that afternoon. Misfortune would have it that Asher was visiting, sitting on the luxurious sofa with Aileen while enjoying some tea. His presence made the humiliation feel ten times sharper for Aria.

"So this is the reason you're always labeled a fool at school?" Ratna, her mother, stood with a flushed, enraged face after hearing the teacher's report over the phone. She held Aria’s sketchbook as if it were the disgusting carcass of a rat.

"Mama, it’s just a hobby... I only do it after I'm done studying," Aria lied, her voice trembling.

"Studying what?! Your grades are in shambles! You are embarrassing the Maheswari name right in front of the Pratama family!" Ratna pointed an angry finger at Asher, who silently watched the scene unfold.

"This thing," Ratna hoisted the sketchbook, "is poison. You think you can become a designer? You don't even have the taste to take care of yourself, Aria! Look at your dull face!"

Rip!

The sound of tearing paper echoed loudly in the otherwise silent room. Aria froze. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw her mother tear the sketch of her evening gown clean in half.

"Mama, no!" Aria screamed, lunging forward to grab her book.

But Ratna only grew more ferocious. She shredded the sketches repeatedly, throwing the scraps of paper onto the floor as if they were worthless garbage.

"Don't you ever touch a drawing pencil again! Starting tomorrow, you will focus entirely on studying for your remedial exams. If you don't, your father will burn all your trash fabrics in the back cottage!"

Ratna then turned around, forcing a polite smile onto her face for Asher. "Forgive the commotion, Asher. Aria is always difficult to manage. Quite the opposite of Aileen, who always makes us proud."

Asher merely gave a stiff nod. His gaze fell upon Aria, who had now collapsed onto the floor, kneeling as she gathered the shattered pieces of her broken dreams. Aria’s sobbing sounded utterly heartbreaking, yet not a single soul in that room had any intention of reaching out a hand to help her.

"Come on, Asher. Let’s finish studying in the backyard garden instead. The air in here has become unpleasant," Aileen suggested sweetly, as if her twin’s profound despair were nothing more than a minor nuisance.

Asher stood up. As he stepped past Aria, a single torn piece of paper landed right on top of his expensive shoe. Instinctively, Asher looked down and picked up the scrap.

On that small fragment of paper, a tiny portion of a design was visible—a small ribbon with a highly specific crisscross stitching pattern.

Asher’s heart fluttered with a strange familiarity. A fleeting vision of his childhood suddenly flashed across his mind. He remembered a little girl who used to draw that exact same ribbon pattern in the dirt, right beside his wound as she bandaged it.

This pattern... Ai used to draw this all the time.

Asher stared at Aria’s back, which was shaking violently from her tears. However, a second later, the image of Aileen’s beautiful, accomplished face crossed his mind. He remembered how Aileen knew every little detail about their childhood.

"No way," Asher muttered to himself. "It’s just a coincidence. There’s no way this messy girl is my precious childhood friend."

Asher crumpled the piece of paper tightly in his fist, then tossed it back into the pile of trash before stepping away to follow Aileen, leaving Aria completely shattered and alone beneath the legs of the table.