The midsummer sky is blue and the yellow sun is shining brightly. The Mugello circuit located in Italy is full and crowded with many spectators who come to watch the international championship of MotoGP races.
Under the hot sun, riders have to deal with the 5.245 km long track. It has 13 slots of which 6 left-handers and 9 inverted corners with a 19m wide long straight. The crowd was on their feet watching them glide smoothly, speeding down the straight, swerving sharply around the corners, roaring forward.
An Indonesian rider wearing a racing suit kept his foot on the gas with his Monster Energy 1000cc Yamaha YZR-M1. Leading the way at the front with more laps completed than any other competitor. Initially the Yamaha had gone almost unnoticed until the last twenty minutes, when breaking through the field he reached tenth, then seventh, then fifth. And it continued to accelerate. The crowd was now watching as the Yamaha rider began to slip past the Repsol Honda ridden by another rider. Both bikes were traveling at 250km/h.
The green and black Yamaha tried to pass the Honda Repsol on the outside, and the red Ducati slid in to cover the Yamaha's move. They overtook the other bike on the track at high speed. Now they were side-by-side trying to slip by each other. The crowd held its breath watching the two riders so close together.
The last lap of the race was almost over, the Ducati rider was one step ahead of the Yamaha, victory almost within his grasp. As they reached the final corner the two riders leading the race tightened their grip on the handlebars. The red Ducati rider could see the Yamaha rider throwing speculative shots in his direction. The crowd's attention was immediately drawn to the Yamaha, roaring across the finish line towards the green prix.
The crowd cheered and screamed with excitement, some of the race staff ran towards him. The driver got off the bike and took off his helmet. The sun shone elegantly on his face. A man in his late twenties with firm facial lines and a strong jaw. Enveloped in charming good looks, there was a coldness to his expression.
While walking to the podium he waved to reporters, media and those who wanted to take his picture. At the same time, a beautiful woman hugged him.
She was wearing a knee-length high-waist dress that clearly highlighted her curves. Her black hair flowed freely until it reached her back, accompanied by graceful gestures. After the hug was released, the two kissed passionately right in front of the public.
The woman was Helena Rei Surendra, the driver's wife.
Austin stood at the very top of the rank spraying a bottle of champagne happily. The smile on his face gave off an air of arrogance and overconfidence. Once again, victory had come his way. Another trophy of honor, but that's not what he's after every time he wins a race, but satisfaction. The satisfaction of beating others, the satisfaction of being at the highest peak of popularity. And now, Austin had it all.
In his teenage years he was bold and modern. Certainly the man of many young girls' dreams. A man who easily earns a lot of money is also easy to spend a lot of money. And changing women was like changing clothes, because he was never short of beautiful, brave, millionaire, seducers. Of course Austin is also the target of jealousy and hatred from men who want to be like him. But couldn't. That was until Austin met Helena, a woman, with a pair of round eyes that always looked at him through a piercing gaze.
Helena Rei Surendra is the only daughter of renowned fashion brand entrepreneur Galen Roi Surendra. When Austin first met her at an inter-company press conference he was mesmerized by her looks, but what appealed to him more was her straightforward personality.
Helena never thought she would marry a man like Austin Indrayan Keano. She was always bored with that type of man. She didn't love Austin anyway. She wasn't even sure she liked the man she couldn't understand what Austin expected of her. So Helena ended up marrying Austin anyway on behalf of her father's nearly bankrupt company. Austin and Helena's wedding was one that was covered from the media.
Their wedding ceremony was grand, held in the United States. Only Austin's closest friends, relatives and a few media outlets were aware of the wedding. In fact, they didn't really know the identity of his wife. If Austin would choose to reveal to the media about his wife, Helena would not want to be known as the wife of Austin Indrayan Keano. Even after the wedding ceremony and having become the legal wife of Austin.
As time after time they built a household together in an arranged marriage, gradually a feeling called love also developed in them. Helena also began to love Austin, her husband.
***
The night was gray without a million glowing stars. The full moon was on its throne, shining its rays, illuminating the cracks of the dark alleyways untouched by light.
He stood alone in the darkness of the lightless night, his eyes staring blankly out of the slightly dusty windowpane, at the high-rise buildings underneath which motorized traffic, sometimes puddles of water after a rainfall, swirled. A familiar and inseparable scene from the city of Jakarta.
The man had a calmness that controlled his body and feelings. An Asian man with good looks and a touch of sweetness on the other side. He had charcoal-black hair with touching lines on his face that were firm, yet filled with gentleness-if he wanted to be seen. He was one hundred and seventy-five centimeters tall with a slender body. The lights in the room were on, and the man turned his head towards the bed. His eyes were momentarily dazzled by the light.
"You're still not asleep?"
Freya Anatasia, the woman who was with Kenan Pradipta at the hotel tonight. A twenty-five-year-old woman with an alluring face. She implicitly told Kenan that she was always willing to give him the pleasure he wanted, whenever he wanted it. As long as he stays with her, stays by her side.
Freya moved closer to Kenan. She wrapped her arms around his waist so she could hug him more easily from behind. Freya asked, "What were you thinking about?"
Without intending to turn around, Kenan replied, "Nothing."
However, she knew exactly what he was thinking. After getting his answer, Freya added, "Are you bored? If you have something on your mind, you can tell me your problem."
Kenan closed his eyes as he exhaled in boredom, trying to ignore Freya.
She added, "You can also tell me about other topics, like... about your family, maybe?"
Kenan's eyelids opened at the mention of the word 'family'.
"My family? Family ... family ..."
Kenan repeated the word family several times, as his gaze continued to look out the window.
Kenan Pradipta was born and raised in Bandung. Kenan's father—Yahya Pradipta—had worked at the city hall. He was Assistant Head of Finance when he disappeared, just after it was revealed that four hundred and fifty million rupiah in public funds had been reported missing.
Kenan still vaguely remembers the small family celebration when his father received his promotion. He was only about four years old at the time. And at that time, who could have predicted that his father's position would one day be plastered in headlines proclaiming his father's crime of embezzlement. After his father disappeared, Kenan and Ladia Nirmala—his mother, were ostracized in their hometown and moved to Jakarta. And three years later, Ladia died suddenly of a heart attack due to overwork.
There was one thing Kenan never knew until the day his mother died; When he disappeared, his father left behind divorce papers. His name was on it, and she had crossed out her signature. All Ladia had to do was sign and then submit it to the registry, but Ladia never did. There were rumors Kenan had heard that his father had another woman. Now, for the first time, Kenan let his mind drift to a memory in his life that he had shoved out of his mind, that he had always avoided thinking about. Over the past fifteen years, no one had ever been interested in learning about his family, until today. It was this woman named Freya who was curious about his past.
"When I was three years old, my father left me. And three years later my mother followed. The only difference was that she left by saying goodbye," Kenan said with a cloudy expression. Then he turned away, looked her in the eyes and said, "My father left my mother and her responsibilities behind, he abandoned us both."
After the words, he extended his hand, lifting her chin to look at her more intensely, but the look in his eyes was cold. "A jerk who can easily come and go as he pleases. And a jerk is likely to produce a jerk as well."
Freya's eyes glazed over. "Are you going to leave me too?" she asked hoarsely, as if the sound was stuck in her throat.
Kenan smiled wryly, his eyes looking into Freya's sarcastically. "You think?" He wanted her to try to guess for herself.
Freya's tears spilled over as she said, "You're evil!"
"You know that," Kenan smiled a little as he admitted it quietly.
Kenan then released the pair of hands still wrapped around his waist and walked over to the white sofa not far from where he was standing to pick up and put on his coat that had been lying around.
Kenan felt that there was nothing more to do with this woman. Hence he did not want to continue to linger beside her.
"Don't leave me, please! I'll do anything for you. Kenan, I love you...," Freya pleaded as she held on tightly to one of Kenan's hands, but the man slapped it away rather roughly. Stepping away left Freya drowning in wordless sobs.
She knew that the end would be like this, but Freya kept trying to keep Kenan by her side, even if it meant giving up her honor to him.
There are two types of women most easily found in this world, namely; women who love a man because they are comfortable with his attitude and gentle treatment. And the second is a woman who loves a scoundrel and ignores the one who gives sincerity. Someone once said, If you fall in love, you will close your eyes and open your heart. Maybe that's why love is said to be blind, neither seeing nor hearing. It will eventually cause one to become stupid, regardless of one's IQ and EQ levels. Once they fall in love too deeply, that person will become stupid if they find the wrong person and continue to love them.
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