It happened again—the same fucking cycle, same as in the UK, repeatedly, smothering me from the inside. My hands shook, the heat rose, and it felt like fire under my skin.
Why couldn’t people let me breathe?!
Then I noticed it, at the end of the corridor, a door half-hidden. A plain white door with a metal handle, markedStaff Only. I was about to push it open when a waiter appeared behind me, hand reaching out.
“Sir, sorry, but you can’t go in there,” he said, watching me. His eyes were flicking over me like I was under a microscope.
That look.Shit.
Grinding my teeth and chest still heaving, I turned back and strode away, heading again towards the VIP room. I swallowed hard, saliva thick in my throat.
Dad had gone too far. I would—
I stared ahead, unmoving.
At the slightly open door, I caught sight of him inside. A man I hadn’t seen in so long. He looked the same, except taller and broader.
Same as his sister, he hadn’t changed.
Perhaps because they had no reason to. Not like us.
My eyes flicked between him and Natasha, and something about her was off. The way she looked at Tsabinu—eyes sparkling as if she’d stumbled upon treasure—was odd. I had never seen her like that before.
Her face lit with delight, eyes sparkling as she watched him. And Tsabinu, still… typical of him, answered with the same gentle, warm smile he’d always worn, speaking with her as if conversation flowed naturally between them, as if they’d known each other for ages.
He answered every question of hers with grace, never breaking his gaze, and that pulled Natasha deeper in. I stared harder at Tsabinu. His face was so like Tshabina’s, and he still wore glasses; his voice was as soft as I remembered.
I sneered. Even his meek, gentle demeanour remained.
Then he laughed, and an odd feeling stirred in my chest. I tugged my jacket, hoping it would vanish.
Releasing a tense breath, I stepped into the room. As our eyes met, he went still, frozen in place. Whatever he’d been saying to Natasha cut off before he could finish. His lips shut, and his gaze locked on me.
His face stayed expressionless, but his eyes flickered. At least his reaction wasn’t as violent as Tshabina’s when she first saw me. Still, it lasted seconds. By the time I sat back in my seat opposite him, he had already relaxed his shoulders, forcing his face into calm composure.
A career mask, and I’d seen it all my life.
Good effort.
The three of us sat in silence. Tsabinu looked almost too stunned to speak, his eyes fixed on me. For a moment, we both turned to stone.
I tried to search myself, to dig for what I felt, but only fog came. My breath felt heavy, but my brain didn’t give me anything, not one single clear direction. A part of me screamed this was wrong. But most of me screamed that everything had already been wrong from the start.
And damn it, just like with Tshabina days ago, my heart twisted in my chest. Memories burst across my mind, sweet at first but bitter within minutes.
The storm made my mind heavy, and my hands tightened into fists.
Hold it. Press it down. Breathe.
Natasha. Food. Drinks. Chair. Tsabinu—
“Good afternoon, sir. I’m Tsabinu.” His voice broke the silence, pulling me back to the present, and I was about to explode.
I wanted to press my palms to my ears!
He spoke again: “I’m the deputy head of the legal advisor team, sent by Mr. Bakti and Mr. Zaeem to assist you with your work here in Indonesia. If there’s anything I can help you with, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” His words came polished, so elegant.
Voice, face, expression—everything about him was rehearsed.A bloody robot.
