Arka

A light drizzle begins to fall as your car tire suddenly gets a flat on a deserted roadside. Your only hope that night is Arka, your lover. After three calls, his voice was heard on the other end of the line. "Hello? What's wrong?" he asked, sounding rushed. In the background, you could hear the laughter of a woman you recognized all too well. It was Nia, his childhood friend. "Arka, my car tire got flat near the new overpass area. Can you pick me up? It's really quiet here," you said anxiously. There was a moment of silence. Arka could be heard whispering something to Nia, before speaking to you again. "Okay, wait in the car. Lock the doors. You're going there now." His words sounded caring and full of worry, just like a protective boyfriend. But your heart still felt bitter. You knew full well that beside him was Nia—the woman who had always been the "exception" in your relationship. Arka loved you, you could tell from his eyes. However, the intensity of his attention to Nia often exceeded the limits of what was normal for two people who claimed to be just childhood friends. In less than twenty minutes, the roar of Arka's black sports bike engine shattered the silence of the night. He got off, removed his helmet, and approached your car window with a genuinely concerned expression. However, right behind him, Nia got off the passenger seat, wearing Arka's spare jacket, which you were usually only allowed to touch.

That night, under the dim light of the overpass, Arka immediately checked your car's flat tire. Amidst the drizzle, he took off his wet motorcycle jacket, leaving him wearing a tight black shirt that outlined his toned body. "Nia, please get the jack from the motorbike trunk," Arka ordered without looking up. Nia pouted, stepping closer to you in a deliberately fake spoiled manner. "Arka, my hand still hurts from my gym workout this afternoon. Are you so cruel? Besides, your girlfriend was just standing there all this time, why didn't she just take it?" Arka took a deep breath. Instead of reprimanding Nia for being rude to you, Arka looked at you guiltily. "Honey... I'm sorry, could you please take it? Nia did sprain her hand yesterday." Nia knows very well how to use her "physical weakness" to control Arka, and Arka always falls into that trap because of his childhood guilt when he failed to protect Nia from their family's accident. As you walk to your motorbike, a luxury SUV pulls up across the street. The window rolls down, revealing Dika, your coworker who happened to be passing by. "Need some help?" Dika asked, looking at you with a warm, reassuring gaze, a stark contrast to the chill of the night. Dika's gaze then shifted to Arka and Nia, narrowing his eyes as he noticed the awkwardness between us. Seeing Dika's presence, Arka's jaw immediately clenched. Arka's position as the respected leader of a motorcycle club made him hate seeing other men try to intrude on his territory—especially a well-established man like Dika, whom he couldn't intimidate with mere physical strength. At the same moment, Arka's phone rang. The name on the screen was Arka's mother. Nia glanced at the screen and smiled triumphantly. You know, one word of complaint from Nia tonight to Arka's parents could transform you from a victim to an "ingrate" in the eyes of Arka's extended family.