Cake for My Husband's Engagement

Cake 1

"Miss, which side is your house on? I'm already at the complex junction," I said over the phone to Raisa, my customer.

"Just go straight, Miss. House number three on the left side, orange-colored paint. I'll wait for you in front. What vehicle are you using?" she asked.

"Okay. I'm in a white car, Miss. I'm on my way," I said as I drove slowly.

A beautiful woman with shoulder-length brown hair waved at me.

"Miss Dita!" she exclaimed.

I immediately parked my car right in front of her house. A not-so-large house with a charming porch and various beautiful flower plants decorating the surroundings. The building seemed new.

"Why did you seem confused, miss? I did share my location earlier," she said as I stepped out of the car.

"Just a little, Miss. Sometimes the location sharing can be a bit off. I thought I was close to you, but it turns out your house is quite far from where I thought," I said while opening the back of my car.

"Let me help you, Miss. Is Miss Dita new in this city?" she asked, assisting me in getting the cake and decorative pudding out of the car.

"Not exactly, Miss. I've been here for around two years. But I rarely leave the house," I said.

We entered her house, and she invited me to sit down. The minimalist living room was adorned with backdrops and various golden decorations, with the words "HAPPY ENGAGEMENT RAISA N WISNU," the same words I had written on the ordered pudding and cake.

"Please rest for a moment, Miss. Have some syrup. Must be tired, right? So, the free delivery worked out, didn't it?" she said, sitting next to me.

"Well, it was alright, Miss. And yes, of course, according to the initial agreement, the delivery was free," I said as I sipped from the glass of syrup she had served.

"Thank you, Miss. I'm so satisfied with ordering from Miss Dita. Everything is amazing, just as I expected!" she exclaimed.

"I'm glad you liked it. So, when is the event?" I asked.

"Next month."

"Where is the groom from, Miss? He's really lucky to have a beautiful fiancée like you, Raisa," I said.

My earlier remark wasn't just idle chatter. In reality, Raisa was indeed very beautiful, with her fair complexion, sharp nose, dimples, makeup skills, and a proportional body—simply perfect. A stark contrast to me, undoubtedly.

"He's from a place not too close, Miss. From the neighboring city. We've been together for quite a while now, over a year," she explained.

"Hope the event goes smoothly and leads to your wedding soon, Miss."

"Amen. And for my wedding, I plan to order all the cakes and snack boxes from you, Miss Dita. Oh, by the way, give me a moment. I'll get the money; I forgot," she said, smiling.

Then Raisa went inside the house. I sat alone on the sofa. I admired the minimalist room, slightly small due to its well-arranged layout, but it felt spacious and comfortable. As I glanced behind, my eyes fell on a photo that startled me.

The photo depicted Raisa wearing matching black T-shirts, hugging a man whose face bore an uncanny resemblance to my husband, Chandra. Negative thoughts instantly flooded my mind.

Once I deemed the surroundings safe, I quickly snapped a photo of it. I was convinced, the man in the photo was Chandra, my husband of three years. His name was Wisnu Chandra Mahardika.

"Here's the money, Miss Dita. Could you please count it?" she said, handing me the money.

"Is that a photo of her future husband, Miss?" I asked.

"Yes, exactly, miss. Do you know Wisnu, Miss Dita?"

"No, Miss. You two seem very compatible and well-suited. I'm sure he's also lucky to have a fiancée like you," I replied.

I was absolutely certain that the man was Chandra, but I needed more concrete proof.

I remembered what Chandra had said earlier, about working late at the office. Looking at my watch, it was already five in the afternoon, and the event was scheduled for after sunset. I decided not to go home but rather to observe the event up close.

I turned my car around and headed back to Raisa's house. I found a suitable spot to observe the scene. Eventually, I saw a white Mitsubishi Pajero parked right in front of Raisa's house. No doubt, it was Chandra's car, the wedding gift from my late father.

I began recording what was unfolding in front of me. Chandra stepped out of the car, dressed neatly in batik. He was accompanied by a man and a woman I didn't recognize, carrying some offerings.

You're truly wicked, Chandra. I couldn't believe that someone who had been kind and loving to me could do something like this. However, I was torn—should I ruin the engagement ceremony right now? Or should I confront this situation with grace and charm?