Andra pressed the doorbell again and again, but no one came to open it. Tonight he had come home far later than usual, delayed by a sudden meeting with the hotel board.

Since graduating college, he had been running the family business alongside his uncles and cousins—responsibility that only seemed to grow heavier with each passing year.

The clock struck eleven. Normally, by Maghrib, Andra would already be home. Yet coming home early or late no longer made a difference—he could never catch a glimpse of Reisa.

Once, in a rare stolen moment, he had caught sight of her leaving her room to fetch something from the kitchen. That fleeting glimpse had been enough to fill his chest with a bittersweet joy.

Now he sat on the porch, rummaging through his bag for the spare key. Nothing. His frustration boiled over—how could life become this complicated, when even something as simple as finding a key felt impossible?

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Tarno, where are you right now?”

“On the way back to the old house, Sir. I waited for you earlier, but it was getting too late. Forgot to let you know.”

Andra’s heart sank. The old house—his parents’ legacy, the home where he had been born and raised. The home he had abandoned. The home he had stained with his greatest sin. Better to leave it behind than to lose Reisa and their child.

“Oh… I see. That’s fine.”

“I couldn’t leave it empty,” Tarno explained. “There’s been a robbery nearby.”

“A robbery? Who?”

“The neighbor behind us. Security must’ve been too busy watching football to notice strangers slipping in.”

Andra exhaled sharply. “I’ll manage. Don’t worry.”

“What’s wrong, Sir?”

“No one’s answering the door. Must’ve all gone to sleep.”

“You didn’t bring your key?”

“Lost it somewhere… I don’t know.”

“Try looking again. If you can’t find it, I’ll come over.”

Andra ended the call with a heavy sigh. He hated the thought of dragging Tarno back this late. Determined, he emptied the entire contents of his bag across the table. At last—the key. It had been there all along, wedged in a corner.

He gathered his things, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. Darkness greeted him. Silence pressed against the walls. Wearily, Andra headed straight for his room, dropping his bag and peeling off his shoes, socks, and shirt.

The exhaustion from the day weighed on him. Meetings, endless discussions with staff, and then a dinner with an associate that had stretched far too long. He’d faked a stomachache just to escape. His body ached, but it was his soul that felt most depleted.

“Reisa… forgive me. For our child’s sake.”

After a quick shower, he found himself drifting toward her room. It had become a habit—standing outside her door, ear pressed against the wood, clinging to the sound of her breathing, any sign of her presence. He had grown sharper, keener, almost desperate for scraps of her existence.

But he hadn’t seen her for nearly a week. The ache inside him was unbearable.

He longed to see her in the flesh, not in the secret photographs Inah risked taking for him. Those stolen images only deepened his hunger.

Dragging his weary body to the kitchen, he realized his stomach was growling again. Strange—he had already eaten. But perhaps loneliness made a man ravenous.

On the dining table he found nothing but fruit and a few chocolate bars—Reisa’s favorites. He opened the fridge, and his eyes landed on something unexpected: two styrofoam boxes labeled Bubur Ayam Haji Sulam.

His lips curved in a faint smile. “Chicken porridge, huh?”

He tore one open, the scent filling the air. It was cold, but he didn’t care. Spoon in hand, he devoured it eagerly, half a portion gone before footsteps echoed from the stairs.

His pulse spiked. He froze, spoon mid-air. That sound—those steps.

Not Inah.

Reisa.

Panic and longing collided in his chest. He switched off the light, letting the room drown in darkness. Waiting. Holding his breath.

God… I ask for nothing in this world but this: to see Reisa again. To see our child.

Click.

The light snapped on. Reisa appeared, bleary-eyed, unaware she wasn’t alone. She moved sluggishly, hunger gnawing at her despite the nausea that had plagued her lately. Ice cream had been the only thing she could stomach these past days—until Tarno and Inah had coaxed her to eat porridge earlier that afternoon.

She opened the fridge, frowning. “Huh? Where’s the other one?”

There had been two portions. One meant for tomorrow morning, the other—intended for Andra. Confused, she turned, porridge box in hand.

“Reisa.”

The voice froze her. The container slipped from her fingers, thudding to the floor. Her eyes widened, horror flashing through her like lightning.

It was him. The man who haunted her nightmares.

Andra.

She bent quickly to retrieve the box, her only thought to flee. But before she could bolt, his hand seized her arm.

“Reisa, wait!”

“Let go!” She struggled, twisting against his grip.

“Rei, please—just for a moment. Don’t go.”

“Let me go!”

“Sweetheart…”

He pulled her into his arms, desperate, trembling. She thrashed, pushing, hitting, anything to break free.

“STOP, REI!”

The command thundered from him, silencing her at once. That voice—those words—they dragged her back to that cursed night.

Her strength broke. Tears streamed down her face as she collapsed against him, sobbing, pounding at his chest.

Reisa was terrified of him.