×Headlines×
Knock. Knock.
"Sty, come on, let’s have lunch. You haven’t eaten anything since morning."
Lana stood outside Staylie’s bedroom door, trying to coax her little sister into coming out and eating with her.
After the chaos Staylie caused the night before—humiliating herself at their father Atmadja Pradipta’s birthday party—her name had become the talk of the town. Everyone had snapped photos of her without permission, and the media had caught wind of the disaster. It was highly likely she’d end up on tomorrow’s gossip headlines.
"Sty... my prettiest little sister... let’s eat, come on," Lana tried sweet-talking her one last time, still being the ever-patient older sister.
She had already knocked two, three times, even tried sweet words—but nope. Staylie wasn’t budging. She didn’t even respond, let alone open the door.
“Staylie!” Lana called more firmly this time, pounding on the door. “I’m counting to five. If you still don’t open this door or at least say something, I’m calling Jamal to bust it open!”
And Lana wasn’t joking.
She had already called Jamal to stand by, ready to break open her sister’s door if needed.
“Okay, I’m starting!”
“One...”
“Two...”
“Three...”
“Four...”
Beside her, Jamal had taken position, bracing himself to kick the door open at her command.
“Fi—”
Click. Click.
Creaaak...
THUD!
Staylie unlocked and slowly turned the door handle—just as Jamal was about to bust it open.
And, well... the poor guy fell flat on his face.
Yup. Face-first to the floor. Oof. You okay, Jamal?
Lana stepped inside, scanning the room for her sister. She couldn’t see her anywhere. Walking further in, she called out,
“Sty?”
“Hic... Hic...”
A soft sobbing sound came from beneath a huge lump on the bed—clearly someone was hiding under a massive comforter.
Lana made her way over to the large bed.
“Sty, is that you?” She sat at the edge of the mattress.
“Huwaaaa!”
Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around her from the side.
“Kak Lana...” It was her baby sister, buried under the blanket.
“What’s wrong, Sty?” Lana returned the hug, though Staylie still refused to come out from her comfort cocoon.
“Kak, I’ve lost all dignity. I can’t show my face to the public ever again. I’m so embarrassed... Hic, hic...”
Hearing her sister's misery, Lana gently stroked the top of her head through the thick blanket.
“Sty, listen to me,” Lana said softly, staying by her sister’s side. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, sure, you brought it on yourself, but honestly? You’ve got real potential as a comedian.”
“HUWAAAAA!”
Staylie burst into louder sobs.
Instead of comforting her, Lana just told her she could make a career out of being a clown?! Is she even sane?!
“Aww, sorry! I didn’t mean it like that,” Lana tried to fix her words. She was only trying to cheer her up, not insult her.
“Okay, no more crying, beautiful.” She pulled her sister closer and gently patted her arm. “Let’s go eat. Your stomach’s gonna start throwing a tantrum if you keep starving it.”
And she was right. Staylie had once been hospitalized for severe acid reflux, and she was not about to relive that trauma again.
Finally, Staylie gave a small nod. She sniffled and wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand before slowly crawling out from under the comforter.
“Kak, I’m gonna wipe my snot on you now,” Staylie teased, rubbing both of her sleeves on Lana’s clothes.
“EW, STAYLIE, THAT’S DISGUSTING!!” Lana screamed, flailing her arms to block her.
And just like that, the sisters were running around the house in a chaotic game of tag.
As for Jamal? Where’d he go after that epic faceplant?
Well... after groaning on the floor, nursing his aching nose, Jamal tried to get up—only to be toppled again by Lana, who barged past him like a runaway train.
THUD!
Flat on his face again. Poor guy.
Grumbling under his breath, Jamal finally stood and stormed out of the room, muttering in Sundanese:
“Sabodo teuing... sabodo teuing, badé kamana teu kaop!”
(Whatever! I’m outta here—I’m done!)
---
“Top news this morning covers the outrageous stunt pulled by a certain director’s daughter during her father’s birthday celebration. A ridiculous act by none other than Staylie Frastyana Pradipta—known as Staylie—who brought a clown doll to the party, causing a total disaster...”
Click.
The voice of the radio host was abruptly cut off as Lana turned down the volume in her car.
She was currently driving the person mentioned in the broadcast—Staylie herself—to their father’s hotel, where she worked.
Lana nearly laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but barely managed to hold it in. A tiny sound escaped her mouth, like a small bubble of laughter.
Staylie, who knew full well what her sister was trying to suppress, said nothing. She was too exhausted from the non-stop scolding she’d received from their father all day yesterday.
According to Papa, the whole fiasco had made him beg his high-profile guests for forgiveness. He said the embarrassment was so severe, he’d be ashamed for seven generations.
Thunk!
Staylie got out of the car and leaned through the window to say goodbye.
“Kak, I’m off to work. Don’t go anywhere without telling me again, or I’ll sulk.”
Lana smiled and nodded.
“Okay, my dearest Staylie.” She pinched her sister’s cheek affectionately.
Staylie’s pout turned into a wide smile, cheeks lighting up once again.
After waving her off, it was time for Staylie to return to her duties as a hotel slave—well, supervisor, technically—at her father’s luxurious hotel.
As a Supervisor, Staylie had the critical task of keeping the hotel’s VIP guests happy—especially those staying in the top-tier suite rooms.
The moment she stepped into the hotel lobby, the atmosphere shifted.
People stared at her as they passed by, trying hard not to laugh.
Staylie could feel it.
Everyone knew.
Still, she didn’t care. She walked faster, heading straight to the staff area.
“Please let today be scandal-free... Amen,” she whispered, clasping her hands together like a silent prayer.