×Ask For Accountability×

Staylie was utterly shocked to find herself sharing a bed with the VIP guest of the hotel.

O.M.G!

"Aaaaaaaahhh.."

Staylie screamed hysterically.

She had no recollection of what happened last night—what the heck did she do with the VIP guest?!

"Miss, miss, calm down. Take it easy now..." Karel instructed her to take a deep breath in and slowly exhale through her mouth.

Staylie followed his instructions. Inhale, exhale, inhale again... exhale...

In a blink, she turned her face to look at the figure beside her. Her heartbeat went erratic—and so did her brain, unable to process what was really happening.

"Sir, what is the meaning of this?" Staylie demanded an explanation, shaking Karel’s arm that was within her reach.

"Miss, calm down first. I can explain everything," Karel tried to move away from her so she wouldn't be more frightened. He observed how badly her body was trembling.

Then Karel began to explain what happened last night...

Slap!

Karel, who had been disturbed in his sleep by Staylie's loud snoring, was now wide awake thanks to a slap on his face.

He sat up in bed and turned to face the culprit—who else if not Staylie, the supervisor of Atma Start Hotel.

"Miss, why were you rolling around so much in your sleep?" Karel grunted, pushing her back to her original position.

That should’ve ended the problem. Karel was about to go back to sleep—but—not even a minute after he closed his eyes, Staylie returned to his side.

And worse—she was using Karel as a human body pillow. Hugging him tightly, shamelessly.

Karel, unable to deal with her anymore, let it be. Just let her be.

And that’s how it went. By morning, Staylie was still hugging him.

Karel confirmed that nothing happened between them—aside from sleeping in the same bed.

"You don’t have to worry. If I did anything to you, we could go get a medical check-up to prove it, okay?" Karel offered a solution to this self-created drama.

Staylie swallowed hard, her expression still in shock. Her mind spun wildly, unsure of what to do now that this had happened...

"Sir, whatever happens, you must take responsibility if something bad happens to me." Staylie warned the VIP guest firmly.

"Of course, Miss, I’ll take responsibility." Karel’s gentleman aura emerged on its own.

---

Staylie kept imagining the worst-case scenarios. She was mentally spiraling. Completely frustrated.

"Arrrghhh!!"

She clawed at her hair at the front door of her house, wide open. Then crouched down.

Suddenly, she cried while bowing her head. And it got louder—this wasn’t sobbing. It was full-blown Bollywood-style wailing. As if her heart had shattered into pieces.

"God, forgive me..." Staylie mumbled, as if she'd committed the gravest sin.

She sprang up from her crouch—then dashed off dramatically, like a soap opera heroine tormented by guilt. Of course, there was a slow-motion scene in her imagination too.

"Sty, you're home?"

Lana, who had been chatting casually with their parents—Atmadja and Anindya—gaped as her little sister disappeared around the corner toward her room.

Lana, Atmadja, and Anindya had already been wondering who the heck had been crying so dramatically earlier. And now they knew...

"Dad, Mom, I’m going to check on Staylie in her room."

"Okay, sweetheart." That was Anindya’s reply.

"What’s wrong with that girl now... geez..." Atmadja muttered as he shook his head.

"Sty," Lana knocked on her sister’s bedroom door. "What’s wrong with you?"

After slamming her bedroom door, Staylie darted into the bathroom in the corner.

She was too ashamed to let the world know that she, Staylie, had become an immoral woman.

Ssshhhhhh...

The sound of the shower turning on.

Still crying dramatically, Staylie stepped into the water spray, slowly dropping to her knees—disgusted with herself. Letting the water run down her body as she sobbed, her lips trembling, emitting dramatic sobs.

Yes, folks, Staylie had a flair for the dramatic. Ehe :"D

She scrubbed her upper body harshly, flicked her hair like she was in a shampoo commercial—and started humming emotionally.

This was the song coming out of her mouth:

Aaaa aaa aaa...

Humko humise chura lo, dil mein kahin tum chhupa lo..

Humko humise chura lo, dil mein kahin tum chhupa lo..

Hum akele kho naa jaaye, door tumse ho naa jaaye..

Paas aao gale se lagaa lo..

Yes, the legendary song from India—"Humko Humise Chura Lo" from Mohabbatein. One of Bollywood’s best.

"Huwaaa... I can’t live with myself..."

Click.

Lana opened the door and approached the bathroom door. Just as she was about to knock, Staylie appeared, soaking wet.

"Hh.. Hu.. Huwaaa..." Staylie sobbed as she exited the bathroom, still dripping.

Reflexively, she tried to hug her sister—Lana instinctively stepped back a few paces.

Unable to hug her sister, Staylie hugged herself instead, sobbing.

"What happened, Sty? Is it work? Or something else, hmm?" Lana comforted her, gently rubbing her soaked back.

Staylie just shook her head, refusing to speak.

"Alright, if you don’t want to talk, that’s okay," Lana said, smoothing out Staylie’s messy bangs. "Now go change, then come to the living room, okay?"

"The living room?" Staylie frowned. "Who’s there?"

"Papa and Mama. They’ve been here since this morning. Said they missed us, so they came to visit."

What?? Papa and Mama are here??

Staylie, who had run into the house earlier without checking her surroundings... was mortified. Especially with her foster mother, Anindya, there too. Her dignity was ruined. Her modesty—shattered.

"Why didn’t you tell me they were here?!" Staylie sulked, shoving her sister’s shoulder.

"How should I know? I didn’t even know they were coming either!" Lana pushed her back.

Then began an all-out war of shoulder shoving. Neither willing to give in. Childish chaos.

---

Lunch at the Pradipta household was filled with various delicious dishes prepared by the family chef—Mbo Ajeng.

Atmadja and Anindya had planned this visit for a long time but only managed to come today.

Being in the house of Staylie’s late mother, Fristy Christina, brought back many memories for Atmadja. His youngest daughter resembled Fristy so much—in face and childish behavior. It always made him emotional.

Strangely, Staylie was uncharacteristically quiet, barely speaking even when others were deep in conversation.

"Lan,"

"Yes, Dad?"

They spoke mid-meal.

"Where have you been these past few months, Lan?"

Lana didn’t answer right away. She scooped rice into her parents' plates first. Meanwhile, Staylie, who usually preferred brown rice, was quietly scooping from her separate container—looking pale and lifeless.

Lana finally sat back down and responded.

"Oh, that... I had a big project related to work. Usual stuff—film production again." She answered without looking at her father, focused on her plate.

Atmadja exhaled. "Lan, how many times do I have to tell you... quit the job that doesn’t help you grow."

"Dad, being a filmmaker has always been my passion. I can’t just walk away from it."

He sighed again. "Lan," he looked directly at her. "Okay, you can continue your passion, but..."

Lana already knew what was coming next. The same line repeated over and over until she got sick of hearing it.

"I want you to help manage our family hotel. Help Staylie with the hotel’s management, okay, Lan? Can you?"

That request weighed heavily on Lana. She had been torn for months, and her recent disappearance was because of her father. She just wanted her own choice. Period.

"I’ll consider it, Dad," she replied with a forced smile.

Atmadja simply smiled back.

"Hello... can anyone show a little empathy for me?" Staylie suddenly muttered, mouth full of brown rice.

Everyone turned to her.

"What’s wrong with you, hmm?" Atmadja asked with folded arms.

"Yes, dear, what is it, Staylie?" Anindya added.

Lana, knowing the root of her sister’s distress, leaned toward their father and whispered the whole thing in his ear.

"What? Are you serious, Lan?!" Atmadja’s gaze snapped to his youngest daughter.

"He-em." Lana nodded.

"Staylie!" His eyes blazed as he grabbed her wrist.

Staylie realized Lana had betrayed her. Her sister told their father about the hotel incident.

"You're dead to me, sis!" she mentally cursed at Lana.

Lana, caught spilling the tea, just continued eating like nothing happened.

"What did you do last night, huh?! Who were you with?!" Atmadja demanded as he yanked her to her feet.

Gulp.

Staylie swallowed harshly, shaking her head weakly.

"Answer me, Staylie!" Atmadja yelled.

Staylie collapsed to her knees, crying dramatically again, hugging her father’s leg, begging for forgiveness.

Anindya, used to her stepdaughter and husband’s endless drama, was already tired of watching the same cycle play out.

"Mbo Ajeng, the food is amazing, really," Anindya turned to their chef, who was still around the table.

"Thank you, Madam. So happy to hear that."

"You should cook at my house sometime for our social gatherings. Your dishes are perfect for those events."

Mbo Ajeng just nodded. "Of course, Madam."

Meanwhile, Atmadja and Staylie were still in the middle of their drama, which Anindya let play out however it would.

"Staylie! Come with me. We’re going to make that man take responsibility!"

"Dad.. no.. I’m not ready yet..." She was dragged across the floor, too distraught to stand.

Lana could only rub her temples—trying to stay sane amidst all the madness her family kept dragging her into.

"Dear God, can You please bless me with a peaceful life?" Lana’s inner voice echoed, praying it would reach the heavens. Amen.