Harlette's car sped out of Serena's apartment basement and headed for her family's atelier. Every so often, she glanced at the small bag on the passenger seat. Whatever was safely wrapped inside made her smile happily as she casually tapped the steering wheel while waiting for the light to turn green.
She stopped in front of a building dominated by glass. The lights in the surrounding buildings had already dimmed. It was ten at night, and Harlette had deliberately come here. Even with the dark surroundings, Harlette walked casually toward the sewing room without any fear of ghosts. The only thing she was afraid of was witnessing her sister's wedding to Dimitriv.
Harlette touched the light switch without groping along the wall; she already knew exactly where it was. She immediately sat in one of the chairs, facing the milky-white sewing machine. She took out the item from her bag. It was a fabric pattern she had cut at Serena's apartment. Since she didn't want her mother to find out, Harlette had come to sew it at the atelier in the middle of the night.
Lady Gaga's “Paparazzi” played in the room.
The song was one of her favorites. It perfectly described her current state—madly in love with a man named Dimitriv. With that song playing, she enjoyed a long yet delightful night as she prepared her wedding dress for her imaginary wedding.
The woman wore a short skirt and a satin blouse that framed her lovely neck. She sat prettily in a swivel chair, gazing at printed screenshots of her conversations with Dimitriv, which she had pasted onto her sacred board. Harlette studied them intently, her heart blooming with happiness.
“What did that man do today, I wonder?” Harlette murmured.
She quickly checked her phone and opened the surveillance app. The car was still sitting quietly in the parking lot. She kept wondering what Dimitriv was up to. Harlette hadn't gotten any information yesterday.
“Ah, of course he hasn't left yet. It's only six o'clock.”
She decided to go downstairs and have breakfast with her harmonious, if slightly toxic, family. Still, it was better than nothing. Her parents were rich, provided for all her needs, and perhaps that meant she owed them a great deal in return.
“Good morning, sis,” Julietta greeted her as she arrived in the dining room first.
“Morning, Jule.” Harlette looked around. “Where's Violette?”
“Who knows? She's acting really strange. Her wedding is coming up soon, too.”
“Lette.” Miranti called out to her. “Could you ask your sister what's going on? She hasn't told me a thing.”
Harlette gave a vague nod. Everyone in the household had noticed her sister's strange behavior. Harlette knew why. There had to be another wave of doubt stirring in her heart. But no matter what, she would eventually marry Dimitriv. Harlette would only be there to witness the wedding.
After breakfast, Harlette didn't get a chance to see her sister, so she went to find her at work. The woman's eyes looked dim, not from staring at a tablet and drawing comics all day, but simply because she had no desire to go on living.
“Sis,” Harlette called as she set down a small box of hot dogs she'd bought on the way. She sat on the sofa and kept watching her sister. “Is something wrong?”
“Is there any human being who doesn't have problems?”
“Well, no.”
On different scales, every human being had problems of their own. Whether they truly considered those things problems or merely small distractions that commonly arose in life was another matter.
As for Harlette, she did like creating problems, prodding her future brother-in-law for attention while remaining anonymous.
“You know, Lette, we're both cowards,” her sister said, her eyes never leaving the gown wrapped around the mannequin.
Harlette frowned.
“Dimitriv and I,” she clarified, making the corners of Harlette's mouth fall. “I hate being born into this world. Sometimes, I envy you for having so much courage.”
Harlette stood and approached her sister, looking with her at the wedding dress that had just been partially sewn.
“It’s beautiful,” Harlette blurted out, since she had no idea how else to respond to what her sister had said.
“Every wedding dress is beautiful, without exception. But what marriage requires is readiness and happiness—not simply wearing a beautiful gown.”
“Sis,” Harlette exclaimed, a hint of irritation in her voice. “Why are you suddenly acting like this? I thought you both agreed to get married after Grandpa said so. I thought you were in love with each other.”
Violette sauntered toward the table at the far end of the room as she said, “That was Grandpa's decision. He said he wanted to see his grandchild get married before he died. When you think about it, that's pretty funny. Why should his death be my concern?”
Violette busied herself searching through the desk drawer. Meanwhile, Harlette remained rooted to the spot, thoroughly irritated. She was angry at her sister for clearly passing up the chance to marry a man as wonderful as Dimitriv. And yet, deep down, she desperately wanted to be in her sister's position.
“I tried, Lette. I tried to love that man the way I was supposed to. But I couldn't.” Violette walked back toward Harlette. They stood facing each other, their eyes revealing everything in their hearts.
“Then what do you want?”
Her sister held out a white letter, and Harlette immediately let out an annoyed sigh. Her forehead creased deeply; she was sick to death of seeing that letter. No matter how many times she was asked, Dimitriv would never end their relationship. He had already made a promise to her father.
Reluctantly, Harlette accepted the letter and set out on her mission to deliver it to Dimitriv. Sometimes she grumbled that her sister was practically technologically illiterate. How hard could it be to send a message?
“Thank you, Lette.” Violette's voice faded into the distance as she left the room.
Being the raw topping in Dimitriv and Violette's bizarre relationship was incredibly irritating.
The woman took a moment to steady her breathing. Her heart was sure to pound the moment she came face-to-face with Dimitriv. He had been busy all day and could only be seen tonight. Once she'd steeled herself, Harlette got out of the car and walked inside at an easy pace. She was already used to entering the Wijaya family's house.
“Good evening, miss. Mr. Dimitriv is with his younger siblings, and Mr. Raiden is there too,” said Ms. Nuna, who greeted Harlette at the door.
“Yes, Ms. Nuna.”
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to Harlette, the gathering in progress had descended into chaos because of Matheo's deep-seated grudge against Raiden. He hated that man setting foot in this house, while Dimitriv—as the eldest son—was trying to get everyone to make peace again.
His efforts should have been appreciated by all his younger siblings.
“I’m absolutely disgusted to see you. Besides, you’re not even my father’s son,” Matheo spat.
“You think I’m not disgusted?” Raiden shot back. He had sighed so many times he’d lost count, and he was exhausted.
“I thought you were gone for good. How dare you come back with that crazy bitch?”
Raiden smiled bitterly. “Ask your father if he’s willing to let me go.” One eyebrow rose as if he were daring Matheo to challenge him.
Ryland, Dimitriv's younger brother who was slightly better than Matheo, gave an irritated laugh. Whatever he found funny, he was clearly mocking Raiden's confidence in calling himself their father's son and claiming a share of the company.
“This crazy man really has no shame,” Ryland said, pointing repeatedly at Raiden.
“If I can still tolerate you at all, it's only because that bitch hasn't come back here.” Seara offered her opinion next.
The four of them had been trading insults for some time, each voicing their own grievances. Their brother Dimitriv, meanwhile, was busy staring at his phone and waiting for another anonymous message. He seemed to have found a new source of entertainment.
Dimitriv had already started typing a greeting, but no reply came. The noise began to creep into his ears, nearly making him crush the phone in his large hand.
“Shut up, all of you!” the man shouted.
“Just keep defending him,” Matheo shot back, his eyes blazing.
“When exactly did I defend him? You’re all being too loud. I brought everyone together so we could get along as a family. Luna should be here too.”
Matheo pulled his lips into a mocking smile. “How noble of you, big brother!”
“I’m simply doing my duty as the eldest, and you’re being incredibly disrespectful to me.”
“Just figuring that out now?” Matheo kept throwing his words back at him. His psychotic streak never wavered against anyone. He didn't care who stood before him; Matheo was never afraid.
“Matheo!” The veins in Dimitriv's neck stood out, reflecting his fury at the youngest.
“What!?” Matheo stood and puffed out his chest.
In the end, Dimitriv really did crush the phone in his hand, until Raiden pulled it away from him. He rose and approached Matheo, intending to teach him a lesson. But Dimitriv let his guard down and was too slow—Matheo immediately grabbed a bottle of wine and smashed it against Dimitriv's head.
The sharp, agonizing crack stopped Harlette in her tracks as she had just arrived. Her eyes widened in disbelief at what she had just witnessed.
“Sis Harlette,” Seara hissed.
A middle-aged woman also appeared, struggling to make her legs carry her toward Dimitriv. Like Harlette, she had only just arrived, and instead she had witnessed something horrifying. Tears spilled from her eyes without warning, flowing freely.
“Rayne,” she whispered, clutching Dimitriv's head as fresh blood poured from it. She turned toward Matheo and screamed, “You miserable brat!” Her voice exploded as her body trembled.
“Mr. Dimitriv.” Harlette approached him slowly. “Oh my God, what do we do? Are you okay?”
The question came out spontaneously, without passing through her mind first. Dimitriv was clearly silent, enduring the pain gripping his head.
Raiden lowered his phone; he had just called an ambulance.
The chaos brought the rest of the household running in. Wijaya, who had been occupied with work, hurried over and dragged Matheo away. Who knew? Perhaps he would be punished in the disciplinary room.
Seara immediately led Parita away. If she stayed there, she might become even more unhinged at the sight of her beloved son crying out in pain.
Dimitriv's head throbbed violently. The sound of the glass bottle striking him still felt as though it had happened only a second ago. He began to stagger, his vision growing hazy as his ears filled with the many voices worrying over him.
The beautiful face of a woman appeared before him. Even through the haze, Dimitriv could clearly see that it was Harlette. Her expression revealed profound sorrow, though not a single tear fell.
“Lette,” Dimitriv called, his voice growing weaker.
“Yes, Mr. Dimitriv. Hang in there. The ambulance will be here soon.”
“Lette,” he called again, his voice heavy and barely audible. He reached for the woman's hand.