Ardi sat in his office chair on the 20th floor. The view of Jakarta city stretched before him, but he didn't see anything. His eyes were empty. His mind was far away.
Get married within 6 months.
That sentence kept spinning in his head like a song he couldn't get rid of. He took his father's letter again, reading it for the umpteenth time.
"Find someone you can love, Ardi."
Love. That word felt strange to Ardi's ears. He had already lived 35 years, and had never truly loved anyone. Love was something found in movies or novels. Not for someone like Ardi.
But now, his father was dead. And his father left all this as a final test.
Ardi knocked on his desk. Hard. Like trying to break a stone with bare hands.
He knew one thing: he had to get married. Not because of love. But because of money. Because of the company. Because he didn't want everything he had built all this time to become the property of the Indonesian Orphanage Social Institute.
So, who? Who would want to marry him?
Ardi thought about it. He tried to remember all the women in his life. There was Siska, an office friend who often flirted with him. There was Rina, an ex-girlfriend who still sent messages occasionally. There was Mirna, a friend from college who now worked at a bank.
But all of them... didn't fit. They would ask "why?", "what for?", "is Ardi serious?". And Ardi didn't have a good answer.
Ardi needed someone easy. Easy to ask. Easy to manage. Easy to... exploit.
He felt a little guilty thinking about that. But it was business reality. In business, everything is a transaction.
Ardi opened his laptop. He started making a mental list. Who could be a potential wife?
Ardi's office door opened. A woman entered carrying documents.
"Boss, the documents for the meeting with the Singapore client are ready," she said in a soft voice.
Ardi looked up. It was Fiya.
Fiya was his secretary for three years. A 25-year-old woman. Long-haired, small body, a face that always looked tired. But her smile was warm.
Fiya placed the documents on Ardi's desk. Fiya's hands moved quickly and efficiently. She had memorized every habit of Ardi's. She knew what Ardi needed before Ardi himself knew.
"Thank you, Fiya," said Ardi.
Fiya smiled. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Boss?"
Normally, Ardi would answer "no, that's all". But this time, he held Fiya back.
"Wait a moment," said Ardi.
Fiya stopped. She looked at Ardi with a curious gaze.
Ardi didn't know what he was doing. He just observed Fiya more carefully. Fiya's slightly pale face. Fiya's eyes visible behind her glasses. Fiya's body posture that always bent slightly, as if she lacked confidence.
But there was something in the way Fiya worked. Something solid. Reliable. Like... like a stepping stone.
"Ardi... Boss?" asked Fiya. "Is something wrong?"
Ardi realized he was daydreaming. "No, nothing's wrong. You can go."
Fiya left the room. The door closed gently.
Ardi kept staring at that door.
After Fiya left, Ardi opened his laptop again. He opened a special folder that contained data about all office employees.
He scrolled to the "Secretary Department" section.
There was Fiya's information:
Name: Fiya
Age: 25 years old
Marital Status: Single
Address: Jl. Srengseng, West Jakarta
Emergency Contact: Desi (Sister), No. 08xx-xxxx-xxxx
Ardi read that information over and over again.
Single. That was good.
He remembered that one time, Fiya had told him (without being asked) that she had a sick sister. The sister needed surgery. The surgery costs were huge. Fiya's family couldn't afford it.
Ardi knew this from a casual conversation in the elevator. Fiya hadn't meant to tell him. But she was tired enough that she started rambling about her problems.
Back then, Ardi just listened. He didn't offer a solution. He didn't offer help.
But now... now that information was useful.
Fiya needed money. Ardi needed a wife.
It was a perfect transaction.
Ardi spent the entire day thinking about Fiya. He observed her from behind his office glass.
Fiya worked hard. Very hard. She arrived earlier than other employees. Left later. Rarely took breaks.
Ardi saw Fiya talking with other female colleagues in a room. Fiya laughed, but her laughter wasn't wholehearted. It was like fake laughter.
Ardi saw Fiya checking her phone over and over again. Maybe waiting for news from her sick sister?
Ardi saw Fiya opening her lunch bag. Her food was simple. White rice with fried tempeh. No heavy side dishes. Economy food. The food of someone who counted every rupiah.
Everything fit.
Fiya was the perfect candidate.
She had no other options. She wouldn't have many demands. She would accept the offer because she needed money. She would do whatever Ardi asked.
Ardi felt a little uncomfortable with this thought. But he pushed that feeling to the back.
This was business. In business, there was no room for guilt.
That afternoon, Ardi called Fiya again.
"Fiya, can you see me for a moment?"
Fiya came in again. This time she brought a notebook and pen. Ready to write down what Ardi needed.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Boss?"
Ardi looked at Fiya. He saw a small worry on Fiya's face. As if Fiya was thinking about what mistake she had made to be called twice in one day.
Ardi almost changed his mind. Almost.
But then, he remembered. Remembered his father's letter. Remembered the 6-month deadline. Remembered how much money he would lose.
"Sit down," said Ardi, pointing to the chair in front of his desk.
Fiya sat down. Nervousness was clearly visible on her face.
"Fiya, there's something I want to ask you," said Ardi carefully. "About your family."
Fiya looked shocked. "My family, Boss? What's wrong?"
"You have a sick sister, right?"
Fiya froze. Fiya's eyes became watery. "How does Boss know?"
"I heard it in the elevator, before," said Ardi. "You were talking to Siska."
Fiya looked down. She looked embarrassed for having shared personal things with someone else. Embarrassed that her boss knew about her problems.
"Yes, Boss," whispered Fiya. "My sister is sick. She needs surgery. But... but the cost is too big. We can't afford it."
Fiya took a deep breath. Tears fell from her eyes, but she didn't cry. Just silent. Silent while tears fell.
"How much does it cost?" asked Ardi.
"150 million, Boss," answered Fiya with a voice that was barely audible. "We've tried borrowing from everywhere. But no one wants to help."
150 million rupiah. For Ardi, that money was like... nothing. He could get it in a few days from a small business deal.
But for Fiya, it was a fantastic amount. An impossible amount.
Ardi felt something in his chest. Something uncomfortable. But he ignored it again.
"Fiya," said Ardi. "Have you ever thought about... changing your situation?"
"Changing, Boss? How?"
Ardi stopped. He thought about the right words.
This was a crucial moment. This was when he would offer an unethical deal. This was when he would exploit someone's desperation.
But he had already made a decision. He had already chosen Fiya.
"There's a way," said Ardi carefully. "But... it's a bit complicated."
"Anything, Boss," said Fiya desperately. "I would do anything for my sister."
Ardi looked at Fiya. Fiya's eyes full of hope. Eyes filled with desperation. Eyes that would be willing to do anything.
And Ardi felt... a bit evil.
That night, Ardi went home with a jumbled mind.
His house was big. Too big for one person. A mansion in the Menteng area with 5 bedrooms, a private swimming pool, and a garage that could fit 10 cars.
Ardi walked to the refrigerator, took a bottle of mineral water. He drank it. The water was cold, but it didn't cool his mind.
He sat on a large sofa facing the TV. He didn't turn on the TV. He just sat. Alone. In a house that was too big.
Ardi imagined Fiya in this house. Fiya on this sofa. Fiya at this wide dining table.
Fiya smiled at him. Fiya cooked for him. Fiya slept next to him.
Ardi shook his head. Removing that image.
This was just business. Just a transaction.
Fiya was the solution. The solution to his problem. The solution to his father's deadline. The solution to money and the company.
But why did Ardi feel uneasy?
Why was there a voice inside his heart whispering: "This is wrong, Ardi. This is very wrong"?
Ardi picked up his phone. He opened Fiya's contact.
He typed a message: "Fiya, can you come to the office tomorrow afternoon after work is done? I want to talk about something important with you. Alone."
Ardi deleted the message before sending it.
He typed again: "Fiya, are you busy tomorrow? I want to meet with you for a discussion."
Ardi read it again. Too formal. Too strange.
He deleted it again.
Ardi finally just left his phone. He would talk to Fiya directly tomorrow. Face to face.
This would be the most important conversation in his life.
A conversation that would change everything.
Ardi couldn't sleep all night.
He lay in his bed. Feeling cold even though there was already a blanket. Feeling alone. Feeling... guilty.
He thought about Fiya working hard for her sister. He thought about Fiya's financial struggles. He thought about Fiya's desperation.
And he would exploit all of that.
Ardi knew this was wrong. But he would do it anyway.
Because his father demanded it. Because wealth demanded it. Because Ardi's sovereignty demanded it.
A long night. Very long. Until finally, dawn arrived.