His name was Galang Rafiandra, and he was thirty-three years old. He wasn't a widower, but someone else's husband whose wife was currently overseas because of her own ego and as an act of protest.
They'd actually gotten married by accident, and Galang had been forced to take responsibility even though the person he loved at the time was Clemira. That gave Clemira her explanation for why his parents had arranged his marriage to Amera.
“You sleep with me, but you keep saying Clemira's name! Who the hell is she, Lang?” Amera had protested once, because she felt like she didn't truly know Galang, even though they had spent every day together back then.
“A Budi Luhur high school kid!”
“Fuuuuck, remember your age, Lang. You like some little kid?”
Galang didn't answer. “If I liked her, I wouldn't be on top of you right now.” It was the excuse Galang always used whenever he slept with Amera.
“But you say her name all the time! I'm sick of it.”
“Your names are almost the same. Besides, you know I'm with you practically twenty-four hours a day, Amera.”
That memory came back again like a ghost.
Galang jolted and opened his eyes to find Rafa secretly watching his face.
Rafa was a combination of Rafiandra and Amera. The boy had arrived without a plan—or you could say he'd ruined Galang's future plans, back when Galang was still a student at one of the country's top universities. Maybe if the boy hadn't come along, Galang could still have been with Amera without leaving Clemira. It sounded selfish, sure, but Galang really was that much of a bastard.
Galang, who had been renting a room back then. Galang, whom Clemira had introduced to her parents because he often drove her to school. Galang, who often hung out in front of the high school because it turned out he was an alumnus. The first person Clemira ever fell in love with—and Galang had deceived her.
“What's wrong, Rafa? Do you need something, hmm?”
“How's Mama, Dad?” Rafa asked.
“Hang on—” Galang dialed Amera's number, and the video call connected almost immediately. Before his wife could start complaining incoherently, he cut her off first. He didn't want Rafa to hear his mom's rant and realize that the two of them weren't doing well.
“Mera, Rafa misses you. He says he wants to talk.”
“Okay,” Amera replied briefly from the other end.
“Sweetie, where are you guys?” Amera asked Rafa gently. She was helpless whenever she looked at her children. They were only victims.
“At the new house. Grandma said Papa had to leave the house.”
Amera's heart sank. “Galang?”
“I'll explain later,” Galang replied quickly.
Rafa chatted with his mom, even interrupting Virgo, who was playing, so Virgo could talk to their mom too.
Galang snorted and shook his head. He felt ignored by the mother and children.
When he opened his laptop, he found an email asking him to design a novel cover. It was one of Galang's jobs as a graphic designer: creating novel covers and editing pamphlets. The work involved developing visual concepts and layouts for various print and digital media, including book covers, brochures, and other marketing materials. He chose to keep himself busy until the phone ended up in his hands, while Rafa and Virgo went straight to their room to rest.
Galang hadn't heard what they talked about, but once the phone was in his hands, Amera was silent.
“I got kicked out of your house,” Galang muttered.
“Not without a reason, right?”
Galang shrugged. “They said that house wasn't for us, but for your little sibling, who's supposedly getting married soon. They said I'm unemployed and that I drove you away.”
“You think I wanted things to be like this—” Amera whispered. “I love you, but even having two children together can't make you forget that what's-her-name? Clemira?”
“Don't blame her. As long as I haven't crossed the line, you're still my wife.”
“I—I want a divorce, Galang!” Amera whispered, her voice full of pain.