Regret After Wife Wants Divorce
“Madam, are you sure this is wise? He’s your only son—”
“Enough,” she cut him off, voice sharp as glass. “He made his choice. Now he must live with it.”
The assistant bowed quickly and left, leaving her alone in the heavy silence. But once the door closed, Ny. Wiratama’s mask cracked—just a little. She pressed her palm to her forehead, whispering to the empty room, “Why do you make me the villain in your story, Arga?”
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Meanwhile, across town, Arga sat in a small apartment far removed from the marble and chandeliers of his old home. He was still wearing his work shirt, sleeves rolled up, hair damp from a recent shower. He looked… free, but tired.
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