Chapter 2: The Ghost of the Merak Port

The VIP suite at Medistra Hospital was filled with the scent of lilies, but to Arjuna Dirgantara, the air felt strangely thin. 

Siska lay on the bed, her face pale, her hand clutching his with a desperate strength. "Juna, thank you for coming," she whispered, her voice a fragile reed. "I was so scared. Being away for three years… I thought you’d forgotten me. I thought you’d truly fallen for Dira."

Arjuna looked at his childhood sweetheart. This was the moment he had waited for Siska, back in his arms, the "right" woman in the "right" place. But his mind was a battlefield. Every time he looked at Siska’s smile, he saw the image of Anindira’s trembling hands as she held that plastic stick.

*It’s a mistake.* His own words echoed in his head, cold and venomous.

Suddenly, the television in the corner of the room flickered with a "Breaking News" alert. The anchor's voice was grim, cutting through the silence of the room.

"Tragedy at the Merak-Bakauheni crossing tonight. The KMP Mutiara ferry, battling torrential rains and high waves, has reportedly suffered a massive engine failure and a subsequent fire. Authorities state that several passengers have been swept away by the current. Among the missing is the daughter of the Prawiro family, Anindira Prawiro, whose car was found abandoned at the port terminal after she reportedly boarded the ill-fated vessel..."

Arjuna’s heart didn't just skip a beat; it felt like it had been seized by a cold, iron fist. The phone in his pocket vibrated. A text from his head of security: “Sir, the Madam... she was on that ferry. We tracked the taxi. She didn't go to her parents. She headed for the port.”*

"Juna? What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Siska asked, her eyes wide with feigned innocence.

Arjuna didn't answer. He stood up, his chair screeching against the floor. Without a word to Siska, he turned and ran. 

He drove like a madman to the Dirgantara mansion. He burst into the master bedroom, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The room was exactly as he had left it, but the silence was deafening. He walked to the mahogany desk.

There, sitting on the cold wood, were the signed divorce papers. And beside them, a single sheet of stationary.

"You asked me to get rid of the mistake. I’ve decided to take your advice. I’m getting rid of you."

Arjuna felt a sharp, burning sensation in his throat. He looked at her signature it was steady, firm, and final. He walked to the window, looking out at the rain that had claimed her. 

"Dira?" he whispered to the empty room.

He thought he wanted her gone. He thought he wanted his freedom. But as he stood in the center of their home, looking at the wedding ring she had left on the table, Arjuna Dirgantara felt a void opening beneath his feet a void that would swallow him for the next five years.

---

Five Years Later: The Peak of Jakarta’s Skyscrapers

The boardroom of the Dirgantara Group was tense. Architects from across Southeast Asia had gathered to present their designs for the "Dirgantara Landmark," a project worth billions of dollars. 

Arjuna sat at the head of the table. He was thirty-five now, his features more angular, his eyes more cynical. The "Iron King of Jakarta" was more powerful than ever, but he was also more solitary. He had never married Siska. The "White Lotus" had been moved into a luxury apartment, but she had never been allowed to step foot in the Dirgantara mansion again.

"Sir, the final candidate is here," his secretary, Chandra, whispered. "The representative from 'A.P. Studio' in Singapore."

"Show them in," Arjuna said, not looking up from his tablet. He was tired of these designs. They were all the same glass, steel, no soul.

The heavy doors opened. The click of high heels on the marble floor was rhythmic and confident. 

"Good morning, Mr. Dirgantara. I hope we haven't kept you waiting."

Arjuna’s tablet slipped from his hand, clattering onto the table. That voice. It was lower, more velvety, and carried a sharp edge of authority, but he would know it anywhere.

He looked up. 

Standing at the end of the table was a woman who took his breath away. Her hair, once kept in a modest bun, was now a sleek, chestnut bob that framed a face of radiant, cold beauty. She wore a bespoke white power suit that accentuated her lean, elegant figure. Gone was the shy, submissive girl who used to wait for him with dinner. 

In her place stood a queen.

"Anindira?" Arjuna’s voice was a ghost of a sound.

The woman tilted her head, a small, mocking smile playing on her lips. "I go by 'Principal Architect Prawiro' in professional settings, Mr. Dirgantara. But it’s been a long time. Five years, wasn't it?"

The boardroom was dead silent. The board members looked between their boss and the stunning woman with confusion. 

"You're... you were dead," Arjuna stammered, standing up so quickly his chair toppled over.

"I was reborn," Dira replied coolly. She turned to the screen, clicking a remote. A breathtaking 3D render of a building appeared a structure that looked like it was made of light and liquid. "Shall we discuss the design, or would you like to continue reminiscing about the past? Because my time is very expensive, and I have two very demanding clients waiting for me at home."

Arjuna’s mind was spinning. Clients? Or was it someone else?

***

The Luxury Penthouse, Sunset Hours

Dira stepped into her penthouse overlooking the city. The coldness she had worn like armor in the boardroom melted the moment she heard the pitter-patter of feet.

"Bunda!" 

A small, sturdy boy with raven-black hair and a serious expression ran toward her. He was followed by another boy, identical in height, but with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Bumi, Langit! Slow down, you’ll knock your mother over!" their nanny called out.

Dira knelt, catching both boys in her arms. She inhaled the scent of baby powder and home. 

Bumi, the older twin by two minutes, pulled back and looked at her with eyes that were a startling, icy grey the exact same eyes as the man Dira had just seen in the boardroom. "Bunda, you’re late. I already finished my coding homework, and I helped Langit with his sketches."

"He didn't help, he criticized!" Langit pouted, holding up a drawing of a building. "Bunda, is the big bad man's office pretty?"

Dira’s heart tightened. She had never told them about their father, only that he was a "very busy man who lived in the clouds." 

"It’s just an office, Langit," Dira said, kissing his forehead. 

"Bunda," Bumi said, his voice unusually grave for a five-year-old. He held up a tablet he had been tinkering with. "I saw you on the news today. Entering the Dirgantara building."

Dira froze. Bumi was a genius, a trait he had inherited from the man who had called him a mistake. 

"The man in the suit," Bumi continued, his grey eyes narrowing. "He has my eyes, Bunda. Why does that stranger have my eyes?"

Dira looked at her son her "mistake" who was now the center of her universe. She knew the peace she had built for five years was over. Arjuna Dirgantara was coming. 

But this time, she wasn't the one who would be begging.