House of Love

Vincent truly didn’t care. He left the house on his big motorcycle without greeting Citra, who had just gotten out of a taxi with two large shopping bags from the market. Although the girl waved her hands while shouting, "I will cook a lot! Come over tonight!"

"Why is he like that?" Citra thought, confused. Ever since she caught him making out with Damar, Vincent had been acting unfriendly.

"Vincent is always like that, Miss. He’s indifferent," said Parti, the helper who worked for Damar at the house. Her job was to clean up in the mornings and leave before lunch.

Citra looked at the old woman wearily, sipping her milk, feeling restless at the dining table. "He’s like that with other people, not with me, who he has known since childhood."

Parti nodded, quickly chopping potatoes. "But people can change, right?"

"Because of what?"

"Circumstances."

Citra shrugged and took another sip of her milk. "I don’t care."

Damar was filming until the evening, so Citra thought about making chicken soup for dinner. She felt happier focusing on her romantic plans for the night with her boyfriend. Parti also helped her prepare everything. But suddenly, the door was knocked, and Parti quickly ran to answer it.

"It’s Vincent’s mom, Miss Citra!" Parti shouted.

Citra jumped joyfully as Mami Vincent entered the kitchen with two bags of oranges, which Parti received with great respect.

"One bag is for your child, Ti," said the short-haired woman with glasses.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Virna," Parti smiled happily.

"Aunt Virnaaa..." Citra ran closer.

Citra's warm hug made Virna smile. She often visited Damar, meeting the young man who had long been friends with her son Vincent but had also grown close to Parti.

As Virna and Citra continued to sit in the living room, Parti returned with two large glasses of jasmine iced tea and oranges arranged on a fruit plate.

"Are you happy living here? You must be comfortable with Parti," said Virna as Parti excused herself to go back to chopping potatoes in the kitchen.

Citra shrugged. "But Parti doesn't want to stay over, even though Damar sometimes comes home in the early morning because of filming schedules."

"Is this the life you’ve chosen?" Virna asked sharply. "Leaving your teenage years for a man—is that worth it for you?"

Citra looked at Virna. "What do you mean, Aunt?"

"You’re only fifteen. Kids your age are just going to school, having fun, eating, sleeping, shopping, trying out the latest cosmetics, and hanging out with friends their age. Not living in a man’s house and acting as if they’re already his wife. Being a housewife is not easy, Citra..."

"Do you think I’ve been that happy as a teenager? No, Aunt. I'm just a second-year high school student abandoned by my parents. I live with my former senior, scrimping on the money my parents send, which they contribute to with the reason of 'responsibility'..."

"Citra..."

"Your thinking is very unfair to me!"

"I just wants you to continue your education. Because I believe, deep down, you don’t actually want this situation. Somewhere in your heart, you must have a dream..."

"My dream is just to be happy. To have someone who cares, someone who loves, and to live in a comfortable home."

"That was also your mother, Marybeth’s dream when she met your father, Eko. Even back then, she was still in the second year of junior high when she was pregnant with you. But look at her now. She’s been married twice..."

"Three times," Citra corrected. "She just married an old foreigner from America!"

"Well," Virna leaned back on the sofa. "You see? If Mary..."

"If she continued to study and became a lecturer like you?" Citra cut in quickly.

Virna sighed, "It doesn’t have to be that way. She could have been much better than me."

"That doesn't guarantee anything," Citra shook her head. "Many people graduate and end up useless!"

"You’re right. But more often, their lives are better. At least they can take care of and educate their children."

"Are you saying I’m a product's failure?" Citra threw a glance at the large framed photo in the living room, where Damar and his brother Jaka were posing affectionately with their parents.

But that wasn’t a real family photo, as the affection was fake. Both of their parents were not divorced, but the father, a religious council member, had many other wives. The mother was busy with social events and pilgrimages rather than caring for Damar and Jaka. Damar was reluctant to attend college, preoccupied with his film career, while Jaka preferred to adventure from mountain to mountain, leaving his studies hanging.

They all did not communicate with each other. In fact, they even hated each other. Despite receiving abundant money transfers from their parents, they didn’t see it as a form of love. Even after two years of living in this house, their parents and brother had never once visited.

"Damar and I are victims, Aunt. He’s the same; wealthy and educated parents who don’t care about their children, even though they wear the mask of being religious. I just hope to fill in each other’s emptiness created by our parents."

Virna patted Citra’s shoulder. "I understands. Damar is actually a good child. I would prefer you with him than with Kencana, who clearly acts like a man. It’s very scary. But I hope you can listen, please continue your education..."

Citra did not respond, making Virna get up and walk away. She was actually tired of dealing with that stubborn girl. But Vincent cared for her like a sister and felt guilty for bringing Citra and Damar closer together. Virna was just trying to help Vincent alleviate his guilt, but it turned out that Citra was indeed hard to advise.

In the kitchen, Citra was busy cooking, taught by Parti. Chicken soup, she believed, would be a special dinner menu for her beloved Damar. Even though it wasn’t the main dish. While admiring her sexy body in front of the large mirror in the living room, Citra winked at herself.

So, when Parti left, Citra soaked herself in a bathtub filled with rose water. She wanted to please Damar thoroughly in a room that now smelled so good; she even giggled at the sight of the enticing red lingerie hanging nearby.

But until late at night, Damar hadn’t returned. Even his phone was unreachable.

At 1 AM, Citra warmed the chicken soup and ate it with rice. Tears streamed down her face, filled with fear and worry. After eating, she couldn’t sleep. Instead, she sat alone in the garden wearing only her lingerie, feeling cold.

At exactly 3 AM, Damar sent a message, informing her that he had to continue filming until the following night. Citra did not reply; she hurried into the house, ran to her room, and fell onto her bed crying.

Suddenly, she felt Aunt Virna’s words were true. She realized she wasn’t ready to be a wife, let alone a housewife!

She understood that she was still young. She still needed to be understood, not yet ready to comprehend why a man had to work or why communication could be difficult, and why they often misunderstood a woman’s feelings.

At 6 AM, Citra woke up. She took a shower, had breakfast, and put on her school uniform. She packed her books into her bag, then opened the drawer of the bedside table where Damar had left a lot of money for her. She took a few bills, then put on her shoes and left the house with mixed feelings.