TERTIPU CINTAMU

Alicia flung the door open jogging into the room excited, flushed and panting heavily, beads of sweat slicking her face. The moment her gaze fell on her husband, Ethan.

Ethan's face was gloomy because of a recent phone call—she broke into a radiant smile.

“Honey, I paid off half of the bank loan I took,” she announced, glowing with pride. “I told you I’d do it. I did it for us.”

But Ethan didn’t share her excitement. He tugged at his coat buttons, his gaze skimming over her dampened dress by sweats and to her fat cheeks with visible irritation. “What would really make me happy,” he said impatiently, “is if we land the contract from that auction I told you about.”

Alicia’s smile widened. She was confident—she had crafted a strong business proposal the moment he mentioned the opportunity abroad casually, an auction somewhere in the Caribbean, though he’d never specified the country.

“When are we going?” she asked.

“Tonight,” Ethan replied curtly, already turning away.

His cool dismissal couldn’t dim her buoyant mood. “Honey, what should I make for dinner? What would you like tonight?” she called after him.

He didn’t answer. He closed the door behind him and left the house.

Alicia packed quickly, humming to herself. When she finished, she checked the file holding her business proposal. It was intact. Satisfied, she set it aside and went to the kitchen to make dinner.

“My husband is handsome, my husband is handsome,” she sang under her breath as she cooked.

When the table was laid, she called Ethan—three times—before his cold voice crackled through the speaker. “I’m busy.” Then he hung up. Instead of being hurt, Alicia smiled, warmed just by the sound of his voice.

She dragged her suitcase downstairs herself, settled on the couch, and began scrolling through Ethan’s social media, enraptured by his photos. She didn’t notice him enter until his shadow fell over her. His expression collapsed into disgust.

“It’s time to go,” he said flatly.

She startled, jumping to her feet. Her phone slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. Flushed with embarrassment, she avoided his eyes. “You’re back… honey.”

If not for the fact that she had been the reason he’d climbed so high, Ethan might have cursed himself for marrying her. Instead, he only repeated, irritated, “We’re leaving,” and turned for the door.

“Honey, aren’t we having dinner?” she asked, panicked.

“There’s no need.”

She struggled with her suitcase until he snatched it from her. Her cheeks warmed, mistaking it for a tender gesture. “Thank you, honey,” she murmured.

He said nothing, stowed the suitcase in the trunk, and snapped, “Get in.”

They drove off. Halfway down the road, Alicia remembered she hadn’t told her parents. “Can I call them? Just to let them know we’re traveling?”

“There’s no need,” Ethan said curtly, eyes fixed on the road.

They headed toward the seaport. “If we fly, we’ll be faster…” she ventured.

“The auction is on the ship,” he said.

She fell silent. He exhaled, relieved—until she asked, “You didn’t mention the contract—”

“Shut up,” he said, icy.

Her eyes brimmed, bloodshot with hurt. He glanced over, then offered, as if tossing her a bone, “When we get back, we’ll start having babies.”

Alicia’s face softened. She went quiet, one palm drifting to her stomach, already imagining the children they might have.

By the time they reached the docks, night had thinned the light to a skeletal glow along the waterline. Ethan pulled in, cut the engine, and got out. Alicia blinked, pulled from her daydream to find the driver's seat empty.

“Ethan?” Panic clawed at her. “Don’t leave me—please, Ethan!” She scrambled out, scanning the towering cranes and hulks of ships. A figure stood near the control tower.

“Honey! Ethan!” she called, voice breaking.

From a distance, Ethan’s fists tightened. Her presence only deepened his annoyance. The man beside him asked, “Is she the one?”

“Yes,” Ethan said. “You know what to do. I don’t want her back.”

Then he strode toward her. Alicia ran to him, eyes swollen, cheeks wet with tears and snot. Whatever flicker of regret he’d felt vanished.

“The auction’s about to start,” he said coldly. “Let’s go.”

“What about our luggage?” she asked, falling into step behind him.

“No need.”

They boarded together. The ship groaned, shifted, and slipped from the dock into the dark.

Alicia looked around, wide-eyed at the ship’s interior. It was her first time on board, and she couldn’t help running her fingers over everything she passed, much to Ethan’s annoyance.

“Honey, let’s take pictures together—for memory’s sake,” Alicia said with a bright smile.

“Give me your phone,” Ethan said, holding out his hand.

She handed it over without question. He snapped a photo of them, careful to keep a little distance between them, then slipped her phone into his pocket.

“I want to rest. Don’t disturb me,” he said.

Alicia nodded dutifully. As she continued to explore the cabin with curious glances, a man stepped in and said to Ethan, “It’s time.”

Ethan turned to her. “Darling.”

The word made her blink, cheeks warming. “Yes, yes—darling,” she replied, flustered but thrilled.

Gesturing to the man, Ethan said, “You’re going to board a boat with him.”

Alicia nodded. She trusted Ethan completely. They left the cabin, and she joined three other men in a speedboat.

“Make me proud,” Ethan told her. “I’ll be expecting good news.”

Alicia clenched her fists, determined. She nodded, and as the boat was lowered to the water, she called back to him, joyful, “I love you!”

Ethan didn’t answer. He watched as the boat slipped into the dark water, then took out his phone and said, curtly, “I’ve sent her away.”

The iron door cracked and rattled as it opened. In the dim cell, a woman sat with her head bowed, unkempt hair veiling her face. Her slender arms—bare in the yellow jumpsuit—were a lattice of scars, and her feet were bare against the concrete.

“Catherine, you have a new cellmate,” a masked guard said, voice flat. “Try not to scare her off like the others.”

Catherine lifted her head. Beneath the tangle of hair, her features were exquisite—but her eyes held no light, only menace. A scar ringed her throat like a collar. She smiled, slow and eerie.

The guard didn’t care whether she answered or not. She stood at the entrance, while the doorways echoed with marching footsteps.

Soon, two guards flanked Alicia and escorted her toward the cell where Catherine was held. Alicia clutched her husband’s photo tightly to her chest.