How was Ardi supposed to tell everyone he knew that he'd become well acquainted with complications—especially after Kia entered his life? But who cared? Betrayal was still betrayal. A perpetrator didn't automatically become innocent just because he claimed to be suffering.
Right now, the police were asking why he had come home outside his usual hours. The answer was simple: he was tired. God, Ardi was tired. That day wasn't his scheduled night at his second wife's house. But Ardi hadn't gone straight home to Kirana, either. Why? Obviously, because Kirana would throw a pot at him after Kia's whining had taken over his allotted nights for several nights in a row.
So that night, Ardi had merely sat in his car, parked by the side of the road. And as everyone already knew, in the end, the car had chosen which way to go. But who could have guessed that something like this would eventually become a question on an interrogation report?
Ardi wanted to get angry. Honestly, his face was almost red.
"I really shouldn't have gone home last night. It wasn't Kia's night."
"Your night?" the police officer asked.
"Kia is my second wife."
The investigator nodded. There was no intimidation over his marital status. No further questions, as if polygamy were perfectly normal in his world.
"Did you argue with the victim before the incident?"
"No. My wife and I were fine." At least for the past two days, their relationship had been fine, according to Kia's version. More accurately, Kia was happy, while Ardi had chosen to surrender to the situation and accept the punishment Kirana would give him for betraying her on her scheduled night.
"Mr. Saiful says otherwise. You and the victim had an argument that morning, two days before the incident?"
Ardi took a moment to breathe, straightening himself in the interrogation chair. "It wasn't a major argument. Oh, come on!" Ardi looked restless. "What marriage doesn't involve arguments? We were only arguing about which work shirt I was going to wear."
Saiful, you bastard! Ardi cursed inwardly.
"Saiful said someone came to your house several times. A tall woman with short hair."
"Yes," Ardi answered casually.
"Do you know her?"
"She's my first wife."
"How would you describe your marriage?"
"Complicated." Whenever Ardi wasn't doing well, he had a habit of rubbing his forehead.
"Can you elaborate?"
"Kia often dominates my scheduled nights. And my first wife can't be controlled."
"What do you mean, she can't be controlled?"
"My first wife has intimidated me several times."
"What has she done?"
"Kirana once waited for us outside the house with a knife. And, well... there were several other acts of intimidation."
"How many times has Ms. Kirana attempted to kill you?"
"Directly, only once, that time. The rest were just small acts of terror." Ardi let out a long breath. He shook his head as if trying to cast something off. "No. I think she never intended to kill me. It was just the reaction of a wife who found out her husband had married again. Since then, her intimidation has amounted to nothing more than grumbling. There haven't been any death threats or dangerous weapons involved."
Ardi wasn't naive. He knew that in an investigation, denial wasn't worth much. The investigation's findings, together with the corroborating evidence, were what would determine who ended up sitting in the defendant's chair. What he'd said had come out spontaneously, a result of his thoughts spilling out. Could a heartbroken woman really be this terrifying? Was it possible that his first wife had truly done all of it?
"When did the threats last occur?"
"Last week. She wasn't threatening our safety. She just kept Kia and me from sleeping until late at night by ordering food delivery and draining my wallet."
Question after question kept coming. Amid the testimony, the sound of the keyboard, and the chill in the room, memories in Ardi's mind replayed Kirana's face when she was a girl. The sweetness of that woman's smile, followed by the growing distance between their beds, and then Kirana's vanished smile—he couldn't say exactly when it had disappeared.