IN THE LIMOUSINE: A SECRET CONVERSATION
The heavy door of the black limousine closed tightly, sealing out all the noise and the scornful gazes from the jewelry store.
The atmosphere inside instantly transformed into a silent, luxurious oasis. Cool air, scented with high-quality leather, enveloped them, and the interior, lined with soft fabric and polished wood, reflected the dim light of the cabin lamps.
Joni Lunggana, whose figure seemed larger and more authoritative in this confined space, let out a sigh of relief. He deftly took two crystal glasses and poured an amber drink into them from a permanently installed wooden box, not from an ordinary minibar.
"Davin," Joni said, his voice low and meaningful, far different from his formal tone in the store earlier. Now it held a deep familiarity, like an uncle speaking to a beloved nephew. He handed one glass to Davin. "It's been almost three years."
Davin accepted the glass. His movement was smooth and natural, his long fingers elegantly holding the crystal stem. He nodded slowly, his sharp eyes gazing at the shimmering liquid. "Feels like a lifetime, Joni," he murmured, his tone flat yet holding a wave of restrained emotion.
"Your grandfather... He is impatiently waiting for you," Joni continued, taking a sip of his drink. "Your period of 'exile', or whatever you call it, is almost over. Exactly three years next month. He wants you to return to the capital immediately. Everything has been prepared. You will be one of the main candidates to succeed him, to inherit the Laguna Company." He uttered the name of the giant corporation with reverence.
Davin remained silent, sipping his drink. The taste was smooth and familiar, reminding him of a past he had deliberately left behind.
"He sent me specifically," Joni went on, looking seriously at Davin. "To assist with all your needs. Anything you require to prepare for your return to the Tanjaya family. Cars, a private jet, unlimited funds... you name it."
The Tanjaya family—a name so mighty and respected in the business world—was Davin's true identity, buried deep for the past three years.
Davin put down his glass. He looked at Joni, his eyes filled with firm resolve. "I agree with Grandfather's arrangement. I will return."
Joni's face lit up. "Good! That's what I wanted—"
"But," Davin interjected, his firm voice cutting through Joni's enthusiasm. "On one condition. Keep everything secret. My identity, your presence here, everything. No one must know, especially the Santosa family."
Joni frowned, confused. "But, Davin—"
"For these three years," Davin interrupted again, his voice softer yet full of conviction, "I have lived among them as the poor, orphaned Davin, who has no one. That was Grandfather's command. And I want to finish this 'exile' on my own terms. Until the time comes, until I decide to reveal everything. Not anyone else."
He looked at Joni Lunggana, searching for signs of refusal. Instead, he saw deep respect. Joni nodded slowly, understanding the depth of the request. He knew the stubborn, principled young Davin.
"Alright," Joni finally replied. "I respect your decision. The secret is safe with me. No one will hear it from me." He extended his hand. "Welcome back, Davin Tanjaya."
Davin shook the hand, a silent agreement formed between them. However, he did not acknowledge the "Tanjaya" name. For now, he was still just Davin.
After the handshake, Davin nodded at Joni, then opened the limousine door.
The noisy, judgmental world welcomed him back. He stepped out, leaving behind the luxury and comfort that had almost made him forget.
He walked towards his old, dusty motorcycle, parked not far from the gleaming limousine.
The contrast was so extreme it almost felt like a joke. With a movement born of habit, he put on his worn-out helmet, started the vibrating engine, and sped away from the place.
He had one destination: The Hotel Flexing. Vania's grandmother's 80th birthday party awaited. And there, the role of "Davin the poor" had to be played one last time, before everything changed forever. A faint smile spread on his lips, hidden behind the opaque visor of his helmet. The game was almost over.
He leaned back on his faithful old motorcycle, its engine humming softly as if understanding the turmoil within its owner.
Three years. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to be "Davin Tanjaya," a member of the wealthiest family in the country and one of the richest in the world. But it would all end soon. Or perhaps the cycle was just beginning anew.
With the shabby helmet on his head, he weaved through the increasingly heavy traffic towards the Hotel Flexing, one of the most luxurious hotels in the city, which also happened to be part of his family's business empire.
His thoughts drifted to Vania. The woman forced to become his wife, who for three years had looked at him with a mix of pity, disgust, and perhaps—a flicker of hope—a little warmth.
---
In the grand ballroom of the Hotel Flexing, the atmosphere was already festive. The crystals on the chandeliers reflected golden light, illuminating guests dressed in silk and diamonds.
Amidst this opulence, Vania stood restlessly near the entrance. Her elegant evening gown felt torturous.
Every passing second made her chest feel tighter.
Davin was late. And his lateness today, at her grandmother Heidi's 80th birthday, would be new ammunition for her extended family to shower them with sneers and insults.
Vania took a deep breath. Her memory drifted back three years. Her grandfather, Albert Santosa, the head of one of the city's respected families, had suddenly brought a shabbily dressed young man into an important family meeting.
The young man looked calm, his eyes sharp even though his clothes were ragged.
Without preamble, Grandpa Albert pointed at him and said, "Vania, you will marry this young man. His name is Davin. And you must not divorce him for three years. That is my will."
Vania's world collapsed at that moment. The marriage felt like a punishment.
There was no party, no joy, only the cold signing of marriage documents. From that day on, Davin lived with her. But in their room, an invisible barrier always existed. Vania slept in the soft, canopied bed, while Davin—obediently and without complaint—slept on the floor on a thin mattress. He never protested, never asked for more.
Five months after the forced marriage, Grandpa Albert passed away. And with the death of the patriarch, the thin protection Davin had also vanished.
The Santosa family made him an easy target. Every family dinner became a session of verbal torture.
Her cousins, Kevin and Dennis, always started with taunts about his tacky clothes.
Aunt Laura and Aunt Grace slipped in cutting remarks about "low-class blood" polluting the family.
Her own mother, Sri, never stopped whispering poison, urging her to divorce Davin as soon as possible.
Only Grandma Heidi was sometimes silent, looking at Davin with a strange gaze. However, she never defended him.
The one thing Grandma Heidi did was vehemently oppose any suggestion of divorcing Davin before the three years were up. "That was Albert's will," she said in a soft but authoritative voice. "We must respect it." Vania often wondered, what had her grandfather seen in this poor Davin with no past?
Right now, in the luxurious ballroom, the insults were already starting to hiss. Kevin, her arrogant cousin, had already thrown out a few cheap jokes about "a ride-hailing driver lost at a party for classy people".
Vania closed her eyes, trying to gather her patience.
Then, she saw him.