LOGINThree mates. Three rejections. But the last one didn’t just walk away—he paid to erase her. When Alpha Xavian transfers to her school, the whole campus worships him. But Avelyn knows the truth. He’s the mate who rejected her… and the secret she can never tell of the forbidden ritual. Now she’s his maid. His curse. His obsession. And no matter how much he hates her. He can’t let her go.
View More"Gantiin popok Bapak, Han!"
Glek!
Wanita 23 tahun yang kerap disapa Jihan tersebut menaik turunkan liur di kerongkongan. Bagaimana tidak? Mertua berjenis kelamin lelaki, yang bahkan baru dua hari tinggal seatap dengannya sudah berani minta dibuka-bukain.
Jihan menghentikan kegiatan potong memotong sayur di meja dapur. Menoleh ke belakang guna menengok pria paruh abad yang terduduk di atas kursi roda. Perempuan itu sontak bergidik ngerih. Sugiono namanya. Pria berkepala botak dan kumis ubanan tersebut memandangnya mulai dari bawah hingga atas, lalu ke bawah lagi. Tatapannya bak buaya hendak menerkam mangsa.
"Bapak sudah risih? Biar kutelepon Mas Azlin aja ya, Pak!" tukas Jihan mencari solusi lain. Sebagai seorang wanita, apalagi menantu, sungguh tak mungkin bagi Jihan mengganti popok lelaki lanjut usia tersebut, sudah pasti onderdil berharga di sana akan terlihat.
"Lama banget, kalau nunggu Azlin lagi. Belum tentu dia lapang juga. Kalau lagi banyak orderan gimana? Sudahlah, kamu saja, Han! Bapak betul-betul nggak tahan ini." Pria berjenggot itu menggoyang-goyangkan bokong di atas kursi roda.
"Bapak buang air besar di popok?" tanya menantu barunya penuh selidik.
"Ya, enggak, sih. Kencing doang, tetapi sama aja, rasanya popok ini sudah penuh dan berat."
Helaan napas Jihan terdengar banter. Menurutnya lelaki berambut hitam campur putih itu amat tak sabaran. Apa dia tidak malu dengan menantu perempuannya tersebut? Padahal jarak antara toko bunga Azlin-putranya cuma berkisar 30 menit. Masak sebegitu saja tak bisa menahan.
Wanita yang baru 48 jam dinikahi oleh Azlin sang pengusaha bunga plastik buru-buru mengambil telepon. Dengan gesit ia menghubungi sang suami agar segera balik ke rumah. Mertua perempuannya tidak bisa diganggu saat ini, sebab sedang arisan bersama teman-teman sebaya.
"Mas, pulanglah dulu! Bapak kamu minta ganti popok, nih," adu hawa berkerudung sage pada suaminya.
Belum juga tahu bagaimana respon Azlin, Jihan malah dikagetkan oleh sentuhan di kawasan pant*t. Ia menjerit, membuat ponsel genggam terhempas ke lantai.
"Heh! Ngapain pakai hubungi suamimu segala? Kan, ada kamu di sini. Kenapa bukan kamu aja sih yang bukain popok bapak?"
Semakin terkejutlah ia, tatkala yang menyenggol area kewanitaannya tadi adalah si bapak mertua. Wajah Jihan memerah. Giginya bergemelatuk.
"Pak! Jaga kesopanan, ya!" tutur Jihan sedikit kasar.
"Eh, kenapa bapakku dimarahin, Han?"
Tanpa diduga-duga, suami Jihan-Azlin sudah nongol saja di hadapan. Kakinya mendarat di ambang pintu dapur, bertepatan dengan sentakan Jihan terhadap bapak mertuanya.
Mulut Jihan ternganga. Sedikit gugup, sebab yang ditangkap Azlin adalah potongan kesalahan Jihan saja.
"Loh Mas? Kamu kok sudah sampai sini aja?" tanya wanita itu kebingungan.
"Pas kamu telepon, kebetulan aku memang sudah di depan pintu. Sengaja pulang cepat buat istirahat. Kamu Kenapa marahin bapak begitu?" Ekspresi Azlin seperti tidak senang. Meskipun menyayangi istrinya, akan tetapi ia bisa marah, kalau orang yang telah membesarkannya disenggol.
"Ini, Mas, bapak tadi-"
"Maafkan bapak, Zlin. Bapak sudah mengganggu istrimu memasak. Tadi bapak cuma minta telepon kamu supaya cepat pulang untuk mengganti popok, tetapi Jihan malah marah-marah."
Apa yang terjadi dan apa yang disampaikan oleh Sugiono si kepala botak betul-betul berbanding terbalik. Jihan terperangah. Sebentar saja tinggal di sana sudah bisa menebak bagaimana perangai bapak mertuanya tersebut. Sosok yang katanya kecelakaan dua tahun lalu, sampai membuatnya terduduk di kursi roda hingga sekarang, malah dengan senang hati membalikkan fakta, seakan-akan Jihanlah yang salah di sini.
Pancaran kekecewaan tergambar di muka Azlin. Dia menatap Jihan sambil menahan sesuatu di dada.
"Jangan pernah marahi orang tuaku, Han! Apalagi kita baru menikah dan kita menumpang hidup pula dengan mereka. Kamu bisa ngomong baik-baik sama bapak dan lain waktu."
"Mas, bukan begitu. Sebenarnya tadi-"
"Ah, nggak apa-apa. Bapak maklum. Mungkin Jihan perlu beradaptasi dengan keluarga kita lagi, terlebih dengan keadaan bapak yang cacat begini. Sudahlah, bapak ke kamar saja." Pria berkaos biru liris hitam tersebut menekan tombol pada kursi roda, sehingga benda itu dapat berjalan dengan sendirinya.
Azlin berdecak sebal, lalu melaju mengikuti langkah kursi roda bapaknya.
Jihan terpukul akan kebenaran ini. Ternyata perangai Sugiono saat Jihan masih proses lamaran dengan Azlin sangatlah berbeda, setelah mereka tinggal di bawah naungan atap yang sama. Jihan tak punya kuasa untuk mengatur suaminya agar mereka tinggal mandiri saja, meskipun sebenarnya Azlin mampu. Alasan orang tua tidak ada yang menjaga selalu suaminya kedepankan.
Jihan mengendus napas berat. Rumah yang megah ini akan terasa bak neraka, apabila didihidupi lelaki gatel dan tukang fitnah begitu.
***
Lelaki berkepala licin sudah stay di meja makan. Yang membantu untuk naik ke sana adalah putranya yang kini entah berada di mana.
Jihan mempersiapkan makan malam seorang diri. Satu per satu mangkuk berisi lauk ditata rapi.
"Kamu pinter juga masak ya, Han!" Vokal bapak mertua terdengar, memuji Jihan penuh tatapan kagum.
"Bapak sudah rasa dua hari ini. Semuanya pas! Memang cocok kamu dijadikan istri," tukasnya lagi.
Jihan bahkan tak berani melirik pasca kejadian tadi siang. Sekadar mengangguk agar disangka tidak angkuh saja.
Begitu meletakkan mangkuk terakhir, dengan gesit lengan Sugiono menyambar jemari halus milik menantunya. "Hati-hati, Han! Awas pecah. Kamu kekencengan narohnya."
Wushhh...
Berdebar rasanya dada Jihan. Darahnya berdesir deras. Jihan gegas menarik tangan dari atas meja. Ini bukan sentuhan biasa. Pria lanjut usia itu dengan enteng meletakkan telapaknya di atas punggung tangan Jihan untuk dielus-elus. Apa namanya kalau memang bukan sengaja memegang? Kalau sekadar menyenggol, maka bukan seperti itu.
"Pak! Jaga sikap, ya!" peringat Jihan geram. Ingin menyiram gulai ayam itu rasanya ke wajah Sugiono.
Lelaki yang katanya cacat itu hanya mesem-mesem di tempat. Jihan tak kuasa dengan semua ini. Bersumpah, kalau dia akan melapor pada sang suami.
"Mas! Bu! Ayo, makan dulu. Sudah selesai, nih."
Merasa disambar angin segar, tatkala suami serta mertua perempuan turut berkumpul di sana. Dengan begitu Sugiono tak akan bisa merecokinya lagi.
Mereka makan seperti biasa. Melakukan percakapan umum. Jihan yang mulai memahami sisi gelap bapak mertuanya spontan menoleh ke arah lelaki tersebut. Dia tampak anteng dan lugu. Apa yang ia lakukan terhadap Jihan tadi, tak lagi diperbuat.
"Jangan, Bu! Biar aku aja yang cuci piring. Ibu masuk saja ke kamar bawa bapak. Istirahat, soalnya udah malem." Jihan menepis tangan ibu mertua yang hendak merapikan piring kotor dan membawanya ke wastafel.
Sosok berambut sanggul itu mengangguk disertai satu simpul lebar. Menuruti perkataan si menanti dengan membawa suaminya merujuk ke bilik.
Setelah semua usai, Jihan bermaksud hendak ke kamar. Namun, langkahnya terhenti, tatkala melintasi sebuah bilik yang pintunya tak pernah dibuka selama ia berada di sana.
Perempuan berkerudung orange itu sengaja menarik handle pintu. Nahas! Seseorang malah memergokinya.
"Jihan! Jangan dibuka!" seru Azlin dari haluan lain.
Hawa bermata lentik menoleh. Dahinya berkedut mendengar larangan tersebut. Dengan tangan yang masih tergantung di knock pintu, ia membalas, "Kenapa? Memangnya ruangan apa ini, Mas? Apa sebuah bilik rahasia?"
“Do you have a death wish?”The words were small in the room and enormous in my skull. He said them like a fact you could trip over something both courtly and deadly.My body moved before I decided it should. I stepped back and my shoulder slammed into the cold metal partition. The hook bit into the soft place beneath my scapula. I wanted to laugh because it hurt and because the world had become a bad joke I hadn’t auditioned for. Instead my hands went up, useless.He kept coming.It wasn’t a run or a lunge; it was a steady taking of space, a deliberate swallowing of inches until his shadow filled the stall and my chest felt too small. His scent was like rain on pavement, cedar wood, something like iron rolled over me and made my wolf pop to attention. She whimpered, quiet and animal, and I wanted to sink through the tile at how exposed that sound made me feel.His fingers landed at my throat. Not violent enough to stop me breathing. Not soft enough to be anything but a warning. The g
Instinct took me by the throat. I slapped my palm over his mouth, my other hand flying up with a finger to my lips. “Shhh,” I breathed, not even daring to look straight at him. My eyes were fixed on the gap under the door, to the thin line of light where footsteps were passing.The air tasted like disinfectant and damp cotton. I could hear the boys’ voices getting closer. Laughter, the thud of a gym bag against a bench, the squeak of rubber soles on tile.A heartbeat of stunned quiet was all I needed to notice his breath warmed my skin, his lashes lowered. I felt, more than saw, the way his gaze traveled. First to my hand on his mouth, then to my face, then to the pathetic T‑shirt I’d twisted backward to hide the hole.Outside, a voice rang out. “Yo, Cap? You in here?”Another laugh, closer to the row of sinks. “You better be. Coach’ll murder you if you skip the media meet again.”Xavian’s fingers wrapped my wrist cool, in an unhurried manner. He peeled my hand from his mouth like I
If the first week of school was meant to be a “fresh start,” then the Moon clearly forgot to CC me on the memo.I finally found my amphitheater hall after walking in circles so many times I could’ve been mistaken for a lost freshman. I’d just slipped into a seat when the room suddenly shifted into chaos, chairs screeched, sneakers squeaked, and half the class bolted toward the wide glass windows like moths to a flame.“He’s here!” someone squealed.“He looks even better in person,” another gushed.Curiosity won. I should’ve known better but I found my legs leading me to the window and I even dared crane my neck to look.Outside, the campus courtyard was a war zone of flashing cameras and screaming girls. Journalists jogged to keep up with the tall, broad-shouldered figure stepping out of a sleek black car. His blonde hair caught the sunlight, his movements so sure and commanding it made sense why half the world apparently adored him.Xavian Blackridge.I gripped the edge of the desk.
It had been five days since the Blood Moon.Five days of lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to decide whether the ache in my chest was from heartbreak, soul-deep rejection, or the fact that my father’s cooking was slowly poisoning me.Not that I’d been eating much.I was half-dozing when my phone started buzzing violently on the nightstand. I groaned, dragged myself up, and squinted at the screen.Darcy: I’m outside. If you’re not out in ten minutes, I’m dragging you out in your pajamas.Right. First day of sophomore year. The one day of the year you’re supposed to look alive, not like you’ve been auditioning for a zombie film.I looked down at my ratty sweatpants and decided I had, in fact, nailed the zombie look. All that’s missing is death but maybe that already happened under the blood moon.~oo~Darcy’s voice hit me the moment I stepped out. “Aves, you look—” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Pale. You’ve lost weight. And not in the cute summer-girl way.”I gave her my m
The first thing I heard was the low purr of engines. Not just any cars, expensive ones, the kind that glide rather than rumble, carrying the smell of polished leather and wealth in their wake.My eyes snapped open.For a second, I thought it was another dream. Omegas like me didn’t wake up to the scent of luxury. We woke up to stale bread, cold rooms, and the knowledge that we’d spend the day serving someone else’s comfort. But… the sound was real. Growing closer.Hope flickered in my chest. I knew it was stupid because hope was fragile.But maybe…Maybe the Moon was done playing games with me. Maybe this time, the mate the Goddess chose would actually keep me.But doubt settled just as quickly. Three times I’d been rejected. Once in front of an entire pack. Each rejection was its own brand of humiliation, and the scars weren’t just emotional. The mate bond didn’t heal easily.I threw on the first dress I could find, almost calling for a maid before the memory cut sharp. The house was






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