Trapped In a Loveless Mariage

Alven’s footsteps sounded hurried and heavy in the hallway of the Mahendra family’s grand house. The air-conditioned room felt cold, but not colder than the tense expression on his face that had been there since morning. He had just returned from the branch office and received news that made his anger explode instantly. Without knocking, Alven pushed open the door to his father’s study. The teakwood door slammed loudly, making the household staff behind him jump in surprise. “Did you do this on purpose, Dad?” His voice immediately echoed through the room, sharp and full of pressure. Mr. Mahendra—whom his two sons more often called Papah—lifted his face from the documents in front of him. His gaze remained calm, even though his second son had arrived like a storm. Alven threw a brown folder onto the large work desk. The folder opened, spilling several sheets of documents and a photo of a young woman onto the glass surface. “What is this supposed to mean, Dad?” Alven asked again, his tone rising. “Did you really think I wouldn’t get angry?” Papah closed the file he had been reading and leaned back calmly in his chair. He looked at Alven as if dealing with a stubborn employee who didn’t know his limits. “You’ve read everything inside, haven’t you?” “Read?!” Alven sneered, pulling in a rough breath. “You think I’m just going to stay quiet after finding out that my life—my future—is decided by a pile of papers like this?” “That’s not just a pile of papers, Alven,” Papah replied, his voice steady. “It’s an agreement between two large families. This is a decision that has already been settled. It’s not a game.” Alven laughed cynically. The laugh sounded broken, full of pressure. He stepped forward, pointing at the woman’s photo among the documents. “So this is the woman you chose?” he said, picking up the photo with two fingers. He stared at the face in the picture—a young woman with simple makeup, smiling politely. Her eyes were clear but distant. “Who is she? I’ve never even heard her name. And now I’m being told to marry her?” “Her name is Nadira Halim,” Papah replied. “The daughter of Papah’s old friend. Her family runs a raw-materials distribution and transportation business. This partnership will benefit both sides. Our position in East Kalimantan will become stronger if the project runs.” Alven snorted. “Partnership? So I’m just a transaction tool, then?” He stared at the photo for a moment before tearing it—without the slightest hesitation. The paper split into two, then four, then eight. Small pieces of Nadira’s photo fell onto the carpet and table like cold, meaningless snowflakes. “I don’t care who she is. I’m not marrying her!” he shouted. “Just marry Radith off if it’s really that important.” Papah took a long breath, holding back his tone from rising. “Radith is already married. Now it’s your turn. And this isn’t about whether you want to or not.” “So what am I, Dad?” Alven snapped. “Merchandise?” “You are the heir to this company,” Papah said firmly, staring at him. “And an heir must know when personal interests must be set aside for business.” “And my feelings?” Alven could no longer hold back. “Do they mean nothing?” Papah slowly stood. Though no longer young, his authority pressed heavily into the room’s air. “Feelings can grow, Ven. But the responsibility of an heir cannot wait for you to fall in love first.” Alven turned his gaze to the large window facing the backyard. His jaw tightened, his eyes reddening. “I’m serious, Dad. I will not marry that woman,” he said quietly but firmly. “I already have my own choice.” Papah narrowed his eyes. “You mean Minthea?” Alven turned quickly. “Her name is Juminten, Dad. Even if she uses a new name now, to me she’s still the most loyal person.” “She’s not suitable,” Papah said flatly. “You don’t have the right to judge someone just from their past!” Alven stepped forward. “Yes, she used to work as an office girl. But she works hard. Now she’s my secretary. I know her inside and out, Dad. She’s not what you think.” Papah stepped out from behind his chair and faced Alven closely. “She was involved in several scandals with clients while working at another company. Papah knows everything. Did you think Papah wouldn’t investigate someone who is always around my son?” “That’s the past!” Alven shouted. “And if you know everything, you also know she never left me when I was down.” “You are blinded by desire, Alven.” Papah’s tone rose. “She approached you because of ambition. Not love.” Alven clicked his tongue, eyes red. “Then why don’t you marry Nadira yourself? Or tell Radith to find a second wife. Not me.” At that moment, footsteps were heard. Radith appeared at the doorway, his tall figure calm even though he had clearly heard everything. “That’s enough, Ven,” he said quietly. “You’ve gone too far.” “You’re part of this too, huh?” Alven accused sharply. “You helped them arrange all this behind my back?” Radith closed the door and stood beside Papah. “You think you can build a future with someone like Minthea? You know exactly who she is.” Alven smirked cynically. “At least she doesn’t pretend to be nice in front of cameras.” Papah raised his hand, signaling Radith to stay silent. “Alven, whether you want it or not, this marriage will still take place. The Halim family has been invited here the day after tomorrow. If you still consider yourself part of the Mahendra family, you will come. And you will marry.” Alven laughed bitterly. He took his car keys from his pocket and walked toward the door. “Then just consider me no longer part of this family.” “Alven!” Papah’s voice rose. “One step out of this house—every facility, your shares, and your position will be revoked!” Alven did not turn back. He opened the door, letting the heat of his anger replace the cool air of the room. Papah remained silent for a moment, then looked at Radith. “Contact Nadira and her family. Move the schedule forward.” Radith nodded heavily. “What if Alven doesn’t come to the ceremony?” Papah stared straight ahead, coldly. “He will come. Whether he wants to or not.” Alven pushed the front door open harshly. His steps were fast, filled with anger. His breathing was heavy, his chest tight. He crossed the yard without glancing at the guards. Today, he wanted to be alone. He didn’t need anyone. His hand reached into his pocket, pressing the car key. A click sounded, followed by the loud slam of the door. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, the black sports car sped out of the Mahendra residence, leaving behind the grand house filled with secrets and decisions he could not accept.