CHAPTER 1 - The Cold Tea
Seven years.
They say the seventh year is when a marriage either solidifies like diamond or shatters like cheap glass. I used to believe Roy and I were the former. I believed our house was a sanctuary, built on the bricks of my patience and the mortar of his promises.
But tonight, the air in our dining room felt like ice.
I sat at the mahogany table, staring at the steam rising from a cup of Earl Grey tea that had long gone cold. Across from me, the chair was empty. It had been empty for three nights in a row.
The rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a countdown. Tick. Tick. Tick. A countdown to the moment my life would change forever.
Then, the heavy front door creaked open.
Roy walked in, but he wasn't alone. He wasn't carrying his briefcase or a bouquet of "I'm sorry I'm late" flowers. Instead, he was carrying a small, whimpering bundle wrapped in a pink fleece blanket.
"Lala," he whispered, his voice trembling. He didn't look at me. He looked at the floor. "This is... this is Intan."
I didn't move. I didn't scream. I just looked at the tiny hand reaching out from the blanket.
"And her mother?" I asked, my voice as cold as the tea in front of me.
Roy finally looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with a mixture of guilt and something else—defiance. "Putri is... she's not well. She has no one else, Lala. I couldn't just leave them."
Them. In one word, my seven years of devotion were reduced to a footnote. I was no longer just a wife. I was a spectator in my own betrayal.
"She's coming here, isn't she?" I asked.
Roy nodded slowly. "Just until she gets back on her feet. Please, Lala. For the sake of the baby. It was a mistake... but the child is innocent."
I looked at the wedding ring on my finger. It felt heavy. Too heavy. I realized then that loyalty wasn't about surrendering. It was about how much of the storm you could withstand before you decided to become the storm yourself.
"Fine," I said, standing up. I didn't shed a single tear. Not yet. "Bring her in. But remember this, Roy: a broken vow cannot be mended with excuses. It can only be replaced by the truth."
