6 a.m.
Inside a small hotel room on Taman Sari Road, Adrian stirred awake.
His head throbbed from the alcohol.
Beside him, his mistress, Kyla, lay fast asleep.
He reached for his phone — it had been off all night, intentionally.
When he turned it on, notifications flooded the screen.
30 missed calls from “Wife 
.” Several from his mother-in-law. Dozens of messages.
The last one froze him in place: “Adrian… it hurts… help me…”A moment later, a new message appeared — from an unknown number: “The owner of this phone was in a serious accident and is being treated at Jakarta General Hospital. Family members, please come immediately.”
Adrian bolted upright as if struck by lightning.
He threw on his clothes and sprinted out of the hotel like a madman.
When he reached the hospital, Clara’s parents were already there — pale, trembling, devastated.
Her father, usually a gentle man, walked up and slapped him hard across the face.
“You don’t deserve to call yourself my daughter’s husband!”
