Chapter 2
1666 Words
Alven didn’t know where to go. He only wanted to get as far away as possible from that house—from the suffocating room that had just humiliated him, from the people who arranged his life as if he had no will of his own.
His hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, so hard that his knuckles turned white. His eyes stared straight at the road, but his mind was filled with anger and disgust.
His father. Radith. The entire Mahendra family—everyone had decided without involving him. He was only a pawn. The second son who could be sacrificed for business.
“Bastards…” he muttered quietly, his jaw tightening.
He slammed the steering wheel hard, once, twice, the sharp clack! of the horn breaking the silence inside the car. Then he lowered his head, growling softly through clenched teeth.
“Why does everyone think they can control my life?”
The car kept moving, cutting through Jakarta traffic that was starting to grow dense. Horns from other drivers meant nothing to him. He didn’t care about anything now—except the boiling anger in his chest.
And at the center of it all was that name. Nadira.
A girl he had never even known.
A girl who, according to his father, was “suitable” to be his wife simply because her family owned a transportation and raw-materials company.
Alven let out a bitter laugh behind the wheel. The air inside the cabin was cold, but his body felt hot, burning with emotion.
“I don’t need a stranger to become my wife,” he said quietly but sharply.
The car finally stopped at the roadside near the harbor. He parked carelessly, turned off the engine, and sat still. His head leaned against the steering wheel, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to steady his breathing.
Alven closed his eyes, trying to breathe more calmly. But the anger remained—and the sense of injustice still suffocated him.
The afternoon sky looked gloomy. Gray clouds hung low, as if reflecting Alven Mahendra’s mood. After sitting silently near the harbor for quite some time, he restarted the engine and drove toward the city center.
His destination was clear: Minthea’s apartment.
The only place where he felt understood.
Several minutes later, Alven’s car stopped in the basement parking of a luxurious apartment building. He stepped out with long strides, pressed the elevator button roughly, and stood there with his jaw clenched. His father’s words still echoed in his head.
The apartment door on the seventeenth floor opened after he knocked twice. Minthea stood in the doorway, wearing a tight T-shirt and short satin shorts. A faint smile appeared on her lips, like a smirk that fully understood her guest’s mood.
“Why do you look like you’re about to burn down the tax office?” she said lightly, then turned and let Alven enter.
Alven slammed the door and dropped himself onto the sofa. His head tilted back, his empty eyes staring at the ceiling.
“My father is insane,” he said heavily.
Minthea sat beside him, crossing her legs. “I figured. So today was the grand family inheritance drama?”
“No.” Alven turned quickly, his tone cold. “Today was the child-selling ceremony.”
Minthea raised an eyebrow, pretending to be surprised. “Wow. So you were sold?”
“Arranged marriage,” Alven replied with disgust. “To the daughter of a logistics company owner. Nadira Halim.”
A small smile slipped onto Minthea’s lips. That name was not unfamiliar to her. Nadira. The girl who once dared to look at her during high school. She would never forget.
“And you refused?” Minthea asked softly.
“Of course!” Alven sat upright. “My father thinks I’ll agree to marry some stranger? What century does he think this is?”
Minthea slowly massaged his shoulder. “You can’t let them control your life, Ven. You’re not a puppet.”
“I already told them I want to marry you. But my father says you’re not a decent woman.”
Minthea laughed softly, bitter yet seductive. “Of course he said that. Because they can’t control me.”
Alven lowered his head. His relationship with Minthea had always been a thorn in his family’s eyes. But only with her did he feel free—or at least powerful.
Minthea cupped his face, forcing their eyes to meet. “If you give in now, they’ll never stop. Today they arrange your marriage, tomorrow they tell you to have children, the day after they ask you to give up your shares. Is that what you want?”
Alven exhaled deeply, staring at the city beyond the apartment window. “I’ll fight them, Thea. I don’t care.”
Minthea leaned closer, wrapping her arms around his waist. “And I’ll stay right here. Like always. By your side.”
Alven stared out the window, his eyes dark. In his heart, the marriage wasn’t just unreasonable—it was an insult.
Minthea tightened her embrace from behind and whispered, “If you’re angry… take it out on me. Like usual, Ven.”
Alven slowly opened his eyes and turned toward her. Their gazes met. Without warning, he pulled Minthea closer and kissed her roughly. There was no tenderness—only anger, frustration, and escape.
The kiss turned wild. They drowned in an explosion of emotion, not love—only an outlet for wounds they could not explain.
Some time later, when everything had calmed, Alven sat at the edge of the bed. His breathing was heavy, his eyes empty. He drank cold water from the glass Minthea handed him.
“Are you still angry?” Minthea asked softly.
“No,” Alven replied quietly. “Just… can’t believe it. Why do I have to be the one sacrificed?”
“Because you’re the heir,” Minthea answered flatly. “You’re an asset to them, not a son.”
Alven closed his eyes, holding back the tightness in his chest. “I won’t come to their house. They can force me to marry, but they can’t force me to be happy.”
Minthea rested her head on his shoulder. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
Alven didn’t respond. He only stared at the dim night sky outside the window.
He had already decided: that marriage would never bind him.
Nadira’s steps were slow as she entered the house. The gray blazer on her slender frame looked slightly wrinkled, her hair tied low. But it wasn’t work fatigue that weighed on her that afternoon—it was the strange atmosphere at home.
In the living room, her father and mother were already seated. Their expressions were stiff. There was no welcoming smile like usual.
“What’s going on, Dad?” Nadira placed her bag down and approached them.
Her father stood and handed her a blue folder containing photos and documents. “You’re getting married. In two days.”
Nadira froze. She looked at her father’s face, then at the folder. A photo of a young man in a neat suit—handsome, but unfamiliar.
“What do you mean?” Her voice almost disappeared.
“The Mahendra family has agreed. You will marry Alven Mahendra,” her mother said.
Nadira shook her head, stepping backward. “No… this can’t be happening! Two days? Why so sudden?”
“Because everything has already been arranged,” her father replied calmly but firmly. “The contracts and schedule have been signed.”
“I can refuse,” Nadira said, her voice rising.
“You will not resist, Nadira,” her father cut in. “This is the family’s decision.”
Nadira stared at Alven’s photo with trembling hands. “I don’t even know who he is!”
“That is exactly why you will come to know him within a lawful bond,” her mother said gently.
Nadira’s voice broke. “This isn’t the old times, Dad! I’m not a bargaining tool for business cooperation!”
Her mother tried to calm her. “We only want what’s best. Alven is a good, successful man from a respectable family. You won’t lack anything.”
Nadira looked at her mother with teary eyes. “But I never asked for all that, Mom. I just want my life… to be my own choice.”
Fast footsteps sounded from the stairs. Nayla, her younger sister, came down with a panicked face and immediately hugged Nadira.
“Sis, calm down first…”
“Two days, La…” Nadira’s voice trembled. “I’m being matched with a stranger. I’m scared…”
Nayla hugged her tighter. “Maybe Dad has his reasons. Maybe the man will be kind.”
Nadira shook her head, breaking into tears. “Even if he is kind… if this isn’t my choice, I still won’t be happy.”
Nadira’s father watched them from a distance, his voice firm but cold. “If you respect your father, you will go through with this without protest.”
Nadira stared at him for a long moment, tears falling one by one. That day she realized—sometimes obedience is not a choice, but an order. And she had to swallow everything alone.
Nadira sat on the living room floor, her shoulders shaking with sobs. Alven Mahendra’s photo was already crumpled in her hand.
Nayla knelt beside her, gently stroking her shoulder. “Sis, breathe first… slowly.”
“I can’t do this, La…” Nadira murmured between tears. “Two days… how am I supposed to be ready?”
Nayla simply nodded, holding back her own tears. She knew—this was not the time to talk, but to stay beside her.
Nadira’s voice broke again. “Dad didn’t give me a choice…”
Nayla hugged her tightly, and in silence they both knew—Nadira’s life would never be the same once those two days arrived.
- Writer
