Chapter 72: Chapter 72

Both Fathia and Sebastian choose not to talk during the ride back from Laras's residence. The file Laras gave her was carefully placed in Fathia's bag. She glanced briefly at Sebastian, who seemed incredibly focused on the road around him. Their destination was still the same as Sebastian had mentioned earlier in the morning. After visiting Laras's house, they would head to Ronald Nasution's office.

Only the music playing from the car's audio accompanied Fathia now. She actually wanted to ask, but in the end, she held back. Sebastian's face wasn't as relaxed as before. She wondered what was going on in his mind.

Meanwhile, on the other side, Sebastian felt that everything the middle-aged woman had said was true. How could he let his guard down and let Fathia end up like this? He had promised to Protect and take care of the girl beside him.

Sebastian was truly thankful to Laras for helping him look after Fathia. He hadn't prepared for Clara to be someone deliberately planted to Protect Fathia too. Oh... what had he been thinking all this time? And why couldn't he have seen it?

He kept thinking about Ronald's words that had been bothering him. If Fathia... was off-limits. But no matter how hard he tried, he failed. Fathia had taken control in her own way in Sebastian's heart. Blocking all access and existence of Clara from her.

"But it's okay. Aunt is happy that you finally came here. Didn't Clara say anything about Aunt's plans?"

Laras's question snapped him out of his reverie, including Fathia's straightforward answer, which Sebastian knew she couldn't be lying about.

"Plans? What plans, Aunt? Fathia doesn't understand."

And then, the disbelief on Laras's face. Sebastian concluded that Clara was indeed right, she had different intentions and took advantage of the situation where Fathia was supposed to be hidden.

"You... you're not joking, right, Fathia?" Laras asked at that moment.

"Why would I joke? Is there... something Aunt is planning? Fathia doesn't know."

Sebastian never stopped observing their interaction. Now, Laras shook her head slightly. "Never mind. It's not important anymore. Right now, the most important thing is that you're safe and okay."

The conversation flowed lightly again, but Sebastian didn't take it as lightly as their talk. After meeting with Ronald and gathering evidence that they would study together, he had to deal with Clara on his own.

He had to. Her dishonesty. The betrayal of the trust he had given her. And... oh God! He had tried to learn to like everything related to Clara. It was really difficult, but he had tried. And what had he gained? Massive deception.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His jaw suddenly tensed. The sound of grinding teeth added to the growing frustration he felt now.

"Sebastian," Fathia calls softly. Her voice carries a hint of uncertainty. All the things Sebastian feels can just evaporate upon hearing his name called by Fathia. He turns to find Fathia looking at him with doubt. "What's up with you? Are you mad at me?"

Sebastian pushes aside all the anger that had dominated him earlier. He gives a small smile and takes Fathia's hand again, intertwining their fingers. He briefly kisses the back of her hand. Then he holds it while using his other hand to keep the car steady. "No other questions except whether I'm mad at you?"

From the corner of his eye, Sebastian catches a soft sigh from the girl. "You're usually more often mad at me, though."

"Not now, right?"

"Who knows?" Fathia shrugs, which oddly enough, irritates Sebastian.

"Is it a hobby of mine in your eyes, being angry? You should know what my real hobby is."

Fathia responds with a teasing chuckle. "Cooking. I know you love cooking. And the kitchen is a favorite area that shouldn't be a mess at all."

"Well, at least you know that."

"Also, scolding me. Remember how I always got scolded for little mistakes?"

Sebastian laughs. "Can you explain one of those little mistakes you've made?"

Then Fathia's lips smoothly explain so many things they've been through together. Where Fathia always found Sebastian annoyed or angry. What Sebastian actually did was to hide the turmoil within him. And often, Ronald's words echoed in his head as an early warning that only pushed him farther away from Fathia.

And when he faced the terrifying incident at Fathia's campus, Sebastian truly regretted the many days when he presented himself as someone else in Fathia's eyes. Not the Sebastian he knew. Not the Sebastian she could lean on or joke around with, like they did in the early days of their relationship.

"Sorry." Sebastian could only say that, but in his heart, he promised that this would be the last time Fathia would see the cold and distant version of him. "I'm sorry," he says sincerely.

Fathia blinks slowly. "What are you apologizing for?"

"My behavior towards you, Fathia."

The girl looks at Sebastian for quite a while, even though her gaze isn't met by his as he remains concentrated on the steering wheel. He doesn't want to lose focus, which could put them in danger. No, there have been enough dangers Fathia has faced, with or without him.

"Actually, thinking about it, Sebastian is right, I guess. You do get mad at me. Sometimes... I deserve it. Sorry for making things difficult for you."

Sebastian can't help but turn to her. Then he chuckles softly. "You called me a suspect earlier. Now?"

Fathia pouts.

"Well, we're almost there. Are you ready?"

Fathia knows the kind of question Sebastian means. At Ronald's office, they will discuss everything that has happened and the steps they'll take. Meanwhile, Sebastian will decide what to do about Clara.

"Ready."

Suddenly, there's a sense of loss as Sebastian releases the hand that had been entwined with his. However, that loss is replaced by a gentle, affectionate stroke he gives to the top of her head.

"You're truly grown up now."

Fathia scrunches her nose again. "I'm twenty-three, Sebastian."

"Yeah. I know. When do I not remember your age?"

The girl's hands fold together. "So, why does being grown up matter?"

"Being wiser to see a problem."

"It's not getting wiser if you just get mad at me. It's so common that it feels like being loved in your snappiness."

The guy just bursts into laughter. "You really can talk like that?"

"Well, I'm right, aren't I? Jess says to consider getting scolded by you as if I'm being loved by Uncle for it. As long as my allowance is not— " Fathia stops herself without hesitation. She curses inwardly that her words could be misconstrued by Sebastian.

"Why is the allowance so important, Fathia?" Sebastian asks, suspicious.

Fathia quickly shakes her head. "Nothing. There's nothing, Sebastian."

Did Sebastian give up? No. He caught the continuation of her words quite clearly. Fathia's sudden shift in attitude made an intriguing idea pop into his head. He had parked the car in a slot close to Ronald's office, one he was sure Fathia didn't notice. When he pulled the handbrake, he leaned towards the girl.

Fathia widens her eyes. It's the immediate reaction to Sebastian's sudden move.

"What's Sebastian up to?" she whispers softly, growing uneasy in her seat. Sebastian wasn't ready to let Fathia go just yet.

"What did you say earlier? I couldn't hear clearly." His breath fans over Fathia's face, who suddenly blushes. Her hand has been trying to stop Sebastian from coming any closer, but it's been in vain. "Say it, Fathia."

"Sebastian," Fathia groans in exasperation. "I'm not saying anything."

"Are you sure?"

Although hesitant, Fathia nods.

"Jess says to consider getting scolded by you as if I'm being loved by Uncle for it. As long as my allowance is flowing smoothly? Is that it?" Sebastian repeats, completing Fathia's unfinished sentence. "So, I'm like a sugar daddy having a side girl?"

Fathia loses the color in her face.

"But it seems fun if you were the side girl."

"Sebastian!"

Sebastian laughs.

"I'm not a side girl! Don't laugh like that!"

Sebastian's laughter only intensifies.

"I'm so annoyed with you. Okay, I'm getting out first."

Before Fathia can fully open the door next to her, Sebastian stops her again. He holds Fathia closer, reducing the gap between them. He erases the laughter that filled the car a moment ago. When Fathia looks, Sebastian's face is very close.

"You're definitely not my side girl." With the softest and lightest touch, Sebastian brushes his fingers against Fathia's right cheek. The girl's eyes widen in response. "You're my heart's ruler now, Fathia."

****

Confidently, the tall, beautiful woman steps out of her red sedan. She takes off her sunglasses, smiling as she retrieves a gift from the bag she intentionally brought. She's making sure she looks perfect, as usual.

"Miss, you've been waited for," one of the servants approaches her, stopping her from adjusting her ash-brown hair. She pauses, thinking. It's not usual for her to be waited for like this. When she contacted the owner of this luxurious mansion, she was allowed to come at any time as long as it wasn't close to evening.

"Okay." Without hesitation, she hands the paper bag to the servant. She walks confidently, as if a red carpet is laid out just for her, as if she's stepping into the world, she's conquered. The sound of her high heels hitting the ground creates a proud yet sexy rhythm. She can feel it, and she's proud of her achievements.

Several visits to the mansion have taught Clara where in this expansive place she can meet the owner. The backyard. She glances at the Michael Kors on her right wrist, realizing she still has a few hours left to exchange stories before she eventually retreats into her lover's embrace.

A bright smile adorns her face as she walks toward the backyard. Her anticipation heightens when she catches sight of the person she's here to meet: Larasati Claire.

"Hello, Aunt," she greets warmly. Her lips maintain their best smile. The servant places the specially prepared paper bag for the graceful middle-aged woman, dressed elegantly in a batik tunic paired with trousers. She never forgets that this woman adores the elegant bun hairstyle. She's wearing a hairpin, simple in design, but it’s worth isn't lost on her.

That's why she's turned a pearl-studded hairpin into a gift for her during the photoshoot in Singapore.

"For you, Aunt."

The woman turns, briefly locking eyes with the woman seated with an unyielding smile. Then her gaze shifts to the paper bag that's just been handed to her.

"Thank you."

There's a subtle hesitation, a trace of surprise in the woman's demeanor. Her smile fades into the air. And then, the warmth and cheer that usually accompany their greetings suddenly dissipate. It's only now that she realizes this bun-adorned woman doesn't speak much. She seems absorbed in staring at the garden that serves as their backdrop.

"Aunt... Is there a problem?" Clara, the woman, asks cautiously. She met Larasati at a charity event four years ago and has encountered her in many other activities since. Larasati runs a foundation for the differently-abled, a fact she keeps hidden from the public eye. Clara was taken aback and impressed by Larasati's warm personality behind her frugal smile. Larasati has also contributed significantly to Clara's rise in the modeling world, even helping her lobby various parties when she was just starting out. Back then, Clara's name was nowhere near as illustrious as it is now. Clara feels indebted to this beautiful woman, whose age has not dimmed her radiance. They've shared stories and grown close. And now?

"A problem?" Larasati repeats softly. She places her teacup down gently. Her gaze, unflinching, challenges her conversation partner. The tension around them thickens. "I don't really have a problem, but..."

The dangling statement only fuels Clara's growing curiosity. What's really going on? She chooses to wait for Larasati to continue speaking.

"But I've been given a problem by someone I trusted."

Instantly, Clara feels like a bucket of cold water has been poured over her. Various speculations flood her mind, along with her own plans. But her negative thoughts dissipate quickly as she realizes that Larasati has no knowledge of her actions behind the scenes.

"What do you mean, Aunt?" Clara asks with hidden interest. Her mind races, considering the various possibilities of what Larasati might be thinking.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk about what you've done to Fathia?"