Chapter 4

“You dared to push Revania, Devia?!”

That deep voice shook the entire room. The office door slammed open, and Argantara stood at the threshold, his face flushed with rage, his gaze as sharp as a blade.

I froze mid-motion, still holding the files I had been arranging. My heart instantly pounded in my chest. I knew exactly who had run crying to him—Revania.

I rose to my feet and faced him squarely. “You believe her words just like that?”

He strode forward, slamming his palm on the desk between us so hard it trembled. “She came to me pale and in tears! She said you pushed her to the floor!”

A bitter laugh almost escaped me. “Those tears were nothing but an act, Argan. You’re a fool if you believe every bit of her drama.”

“You’re calling me a fool?” His glare grew darker.

I stepped closer, leaving barely any space between us. “If you take the word of a mistress over your own wife without proof… yes, that makes you a fool.”

His jaw tightened. “Watch your mouth…”

“What?!” I snapped, my voice rising, my chest burning with indignation. “You expect me to stay silent while your mistress humiliates me again and again? You don’t want me to touch her? Then make sure she stays out of my way!”

For a split second, his expression faltered, then hardened again. “You don’t have the right to speak like that.”

My eyes stung, but my voice remained firm. “I’m your wife, Argan! I have more right than anyone. But somehow, all this time, it’s only Revania you protect, while I—Devia, your wife—am the one you trample.”

Silence pressed between us, broken only by the sound of our ragged breaths.

I grabbed my bag from the chair and straightened my shoulders. “Oh, and Argan… starting today, I’m leaving your house.”

His brows shot up. “What did you just say?”

“I said I’m leaving. You want a divorce? Fine. But remember, you’ll face the consequences once your parents know our marriage is over.”

“Devia…” His voice softened, but I had already turned away.

Before I could reach the door, his phone rang. He sighed heavily and answered. The voice on the other end froze him in place.

“Mother…” he whispered.

I stopped, narrowing my eyes at him. He listened quietly for a long moment, tension etched into his face. Then his gaze shifted to me.

“Yes, Mother. Alright. We’ll come home.”

He hung up.

“What is it?” I asked sharply.

He swallowed, stepping closer. For the first time, his tone carried a trace of pleading. “Devia… Mother just called. She wants us to come to the main house tonight. To stay over.”

I blinked. “Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. But she sounded serious. It must be important.”

I crossed my arms. “And why are you telling me this?”

His jaw flexed. “Because she asked for you specifically. She insisted you be there. Please, Devia… come with me.”

I let out a dry laugh. “You’re begging me? Just minutes ago you accused me of attacking your mistress, and now you expect me to obey?”

“Devia, please…” His voice dropped, almost a whisper.

I stepped closer, my eyes like daggers. “Why should I? You’ve never defended me. You’ve always believed Revania. Do you really think I’ll just bow my head because your mother summoned me?”

He didn’t answer. His eyes glistened, as though he was holding back words. Then, quietly, he said, “I know I was wrong… But I’m begging you, Devia. Just for tonight. Don’t cause a bigger scene in front of Mother.”

The admission caught me off guard. Argantara never admitted fault—let alone pleaded. But my heart, already shattered, refused to bend.

“If I go,” I said coldly, “it’s not for you. It’s out of respect for your mother.”

Relief swept across his face. “Thank you…”

I shot him a sharp look. “Don’t thank me. Remember this, Argan—when I decide to leave, nothing will stop me. Not even your mother.”

He stood silent, no words left.

---

That night, we returned together. The ride was suffocating in its silence—only the hum of the engine and the ticking clock on the dashboard filled the air.

I kept my gaze fixed on the blur of city lights outside the window, while Argantara gripped the steering wheel, his jaw tense, his silence heavy.

When we arrived at the Bagaskara family estate, Madam Dirgantara welcomed us warmly. Her smile was radiant, as though no storm hovered over our marriage.

“Devia, my dear. Argan,” she greeted us with relief. “Thank you for coming. Tonight… I want us all together under this roof. A family must stay united, no matter what.”

Her words struck me like a whip. Family? How could I feel like I had one, when my husband had reduced me to nothing?

Argantara cast me a sidelong glance, silently pleading again for me to play along.

I lifted my chin. “Of course, Mother. I’ll stay here tonight.”

Her smile softened as she patted my hand. “Good. You both must be tired. Rest for now. Tomorrow, we’ll talk.”

I excused myself and headed toward the guest room, Argantara trailing after me.

“Devia…” he called softly.

I stopped, but didn’t turn. “What now?”

“Thank you for coming.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, then replied quietly, “Don’t misunderstand. I didn’t do it for you. I did it because I still respect your mother.”

With that, I entered the room and shut the door firmly.

Outside, I heard his heavy sigh.

And that night, though we shared the same house, we lived in two different worlds—divided by lies, wounds, and a love that had never been mine.