"Rin, don't be like this. I know you're angry," a man's voice called from inside the room, trying to calm the woman beside him.
"I'm fine, Mas. Who do you think I am?" the woman replied softly. Her head bowed, her face hidden behind a curtain of long black hair—smooth and shiny, yet concealing something fragile.
Sandrina. The woman who, for the past five years, had been the faithful shadow of Armon Ganie.
On the other side of his life stood Yurita Amara—his legal wife, who long ago had stopped showing affection. The love that once burned brightly had been consumed by time, crushed beneath the weight of disappointments that kept piling up.
The room was silent, filled only by the ticking of the wall clock and the steady rhythm of forced breathing. Until a loud bang shattered the air.
BRAKKK!
The hotel room door burst open. A slender woman with skin as pale as jade walked in without permission.
Yurita Amara.
Armon's wife.
Her lips curved into a thin smile. Without waiting for a reaction, she began to clap her hands slowly, her steps steady and full of confidence.
"Quite a performance, Armon," she said flatly, her voice as cold as a blade.
Sandrina's head snapped up, her eyes throwing a cold, rejecting glare at Yurita.
But Yurita answered with a look of disdain, as if Sandrina's presence was nothing more than filth in her view.
Armon rose to his feet, his face void of surprise. This wasn't the first time he had been caught.
"What is this, Yurita! You really have no manners? Just because I tolerate your behavior, you think you can barge into other people's rooms?!" he snapped, jabbing his finger at her.
Yurita swatted his hand away, meeting his gaze without fear.
"Say whatever you want, Mon. I don't care anymore." She lifted a brown envelope she had been clutching tightly. "I didn't come here to fight. I want you to sign this."
The envelope was tossed toward Armon, landing squarely in his hands. He opened it angrily. His eyes scanned quickly until they froze.
The papers inside made his pulse race.
This wasn't a threat.
Not a bluff.
"What… what do you mean, Yurita?" his voice trembled.
"Divorce papers," Yurita answered coldly.
Armon scoffed, masking the storm in his chest. He crushed the envelope in his fist and threw it back at her.
"We'll talk about this at home! Stop making a scene here!"
But Yurita only smiled faintly, almost bitterly.
"There is no home anymore, Armon. I'm done with you." Her words were light, yet sharper than bullets.
Sandrina remained silent, though a faint glimmer of satisfaction flickered in her eyes.
"Mas… why don't you just sign it? Isn't that the best for us?" she urged softly, though her voice carried insistence.
Armon gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.
"I know you want me to separate from Yurita right away. But now is not the time, Rin. There's my grandfather's will to think about. It's for our future too."
"What do you mean?" Sandrina asked, confused.
Armon sighed, his gaze distant, his voice dropping lower.
"Grandfather won't give me my inheritance if I don't have a child with Yurita."
Sandrina's blood boiled. Her fists clenched, her eyes trembling with anger.
"Mas! Why is your grandfather still siding with that woman?! Even after his death, you're still chained to her by that ridiculous will!"
Armon turned to her, his eyes clouded.
"There's something I haven't told you."
The room's atmosphere shifted. His voice softened, trembling with unspoken weight.
Armon fell silent for a moment, then slowly opened the door to the past.
---
The memory came sharply.
The sound of gunfire. Screams. His body that should have fallen. Blood that should have gushed from his chest.
But it wasn't him who collapsed.
It was Yurita.
A hot bullet tore through her shoulder, blood spilling over their white school uniforms. Her teenage body trembled, but she still turned her head, giving Armon a faint smile.
Armon screamed, holding her shaking body, desperately pressing on the wound.
"Stay with me, Yurita! Stay with me!"
But moments later, her eyes closed. Her body grew cold.
That day, Yurita fell into a coma. For months, between life and death.
From that day forward, Armon's grandfather swore to himself: Armon must never let Yurita go. For any reason.
---
Back in the present, Armon's face was tense.
"She once saved my life, Rin. If it weren't for Yurita, I'd be dead."
Silence thickened the room.
Sandrina lowered her head, her hands trembling, overwhelmed with jealousy, hatred, and fear.
"Then what am I to you, Mas?" her voice cracked, fragile and wounded.
Armon turned, his expression soft yet torn. He held her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes.
"You're everything to me, Rin. You know that. But I can't ignore Grandfather's words… I can't just throw Yurita away after what she's done."
Sandrina bit her lip, tears brimming.
"Everything? If I'm everything, why is she always between us? Why does her shadow never leave our relationship?!" her voice rose, trembling with long-suppressed anger.
Armon was silent. His lips parted but no words came. His eyes aged with guilt—trapped between love and debt.
Tears spilled down Sandrina's cheeks. She wiped them quickly, refusing to look weak.
"Mas, I've sacrificed so much for you. For five years I've been your shadow, waiting for the day you'd choose me… but the answer is always the same: Yurita, Yurita, Yurita!"
She shoved his chest, forcing him back.
"Am I just your escape?! Am I just where you run when your wife doesn't give you what you want?!"
Armon's jaw tightened. He wanted to answer, to soothe her, but no words could erase the wound.
"Rin… I love you."
Sandrina let out a bitter laugh, broken and sharp.
"Love? A love bound by your grandfather's will? A love always losing to the past you share with her? If that's love, Mas… then I wish I'd never known it."
The room burned with tension, though the air conditioner still hummed.
Armon watched her rise, her face pale but her gaze sharp, her heartbreak turning into fire.
"Listen carefully, Mas," Sandrina said softly, each word echoing like steel. "If you can't choose… one day I will. And when that day comes, don't blame me."
She turned, her trembling steps steady. Her hair swung, hiding the tears still wet on her face.
Armon's chest ached as he watched her go. He wanted to chase her, to grab her hand and promise to make things right. But Yurita's shadow—her sacrifice, her lingering presence—haunted him.
And then his phone buzzed.
A single message appeared.
[Blood test and pregnancy results for Yurita are out.]
Armon froze.