SLOW DOWN BABY

Zavira froze.

The words hit her harder than any slap ever could.

"A kept wife?" she repeated softly, her voice trembling between disbelief and fury.

She looked up, meeting Xafier's gaze with red-rimmed eyes. There was rage in them. There was hurt. And there was disgust at being degraded like this. Her chest felt tight.

"Sir, what do you think I am?" Zavira's voice rose. "Some cheap woman you can just buy?"

Her hands clutched the blanket tighter, as if it were the only shield she had left. "I'm not a whore," she said firmly, even though her voice shook at the end.

Xafier only raised the corner of his lips, a thin smile that looked more like mockery.

"Relax," he said, cold and flat. "I never called you a whore."

Zavira let out a short, bitter laugh. "But you're offering me a position even worse than that."

Silence hung between them for a moment. The only sound was the faint hum of the air conditioner - so alien to Zavira's ears, which were still ringing with the storm inside her.

Her eyes fell, unknowingly, on the black ATM card lying on the sheets. The small object looked so out of place. Slowly, with trembling hands, Zavira reached for it.

The moment her fingertips touched the card, her chest ached.

She hated it. She hated this situation. She hated herself for being forced to take it.

But the image of her little brother crying, her mother's choked sobs, and the debt threatening to take their home all came crashing back into her mind without mercy.

"Damn it, why does poverty make me this low," Zavira murmured.

Xafier scoffed.

"There," he said sarcastically. "Still acting all high and mighty, but you took it anyway."

Zavira clenched the card in her fist. Her jaw hardened. "I'm taking this not because I want to. But because I have to."

"Reasons don't matter," Xafier replied coldly. "What matters is the result. And you took it."

He stepped closer, keeping a safe distance, as if everything was already back under his control.

"If you agree to be my kept wife, your life will change. Monthly allowance. A decent place to live. Luxury facilities. You won't have to stand trembling in front of a nightclub like last night ever again."

Zavira stared at him sharply. "And in return?"

Xafier looked at her without blinking. "You have to be ready whenever I need you. To accompany me. To follow me. And yes, to fulfill my biological needs."

Those words made Zavira's stomach churn.

She swallowed hard. "Why me?" she asked finally. "Out of all the women, why me?"

Xafier was silent for a moment, then answered simply, as if it were the most obvious reason in the world.

"Because I was the first to touch you."

Zavira's heart pounded.

"I don't like loose ends," Xafier continued. "We'll get married. Under the table. But only for one year."

"What?" Zavira almost shot up from the bed.

"One year," he repeated flatly. "After that, you're free. You leave with enough compensation to live peacefully. But during that time, don't expect anything more."

He looked straight at her. "Don't fall in love with me. I still have a legal wife."

The question that had been bothering her finally slipped from Zavira's lips.

"If you have a wife, why look for another woman? Why not with her?"

Xafier's expression hardened for a second.

"My marriage to Shiena is just business and family," he said coldly. "There's no love there. And if you're curious, she's the one who gave me that drug."

Zavira gasped.

"Because I've never touched her," Xafier went on. "And she hates it. I'm not interested in touching her either."

Silence fell over the room again.

Zavira lowered her head, tears falling silently. "I... I need time to think."

Xafier immediately shook his head. "I don't like waiting. And I don't like drama."

He grabbed his suit jacket. "Tonight, my driver will pick you up. Be ready."

Without waiting for an answer, Xafier walked out. The door closed with a soft but firm click, like it was locking Zavira's fate inside that room.

Zavira collapsed onto the bed, the black ATM card still clutched tightly in her hand.

Her sobs broke free.

Between the pain, the anger, and the shattering of her pride, she could only mourn one thing - that her life was now at a crossroads she had never imagined.

Zavira shut the bathroom door with trembling hands.

Water poured down from the shower, striking her skin mercilessly. She stood under it, letting the warm water mix with tears that wouldn't stop falling. Her hands scrubbed repeatedly at her neck, shoulders, and body, as if trying to wash away the traces of a night that felt so dirty and painful.

"Go away, go away!" she whispered, her voice breaking.

But the feeling didn't go away. It only pressed harder against her chest until breathing felt heavy. She slid down slowly, sitting on the bathroom floor, hugging her knees. The image of Xafier, the words about being a kept wife, and that black ATM card spun around in her head without mercy.

After what felt like forever, Zavira finally stood. She put on whatever clothes were at hand, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were swollen. Her face was pale.

"I have to go home," she whispered.

The moment she stepped out of that cursed place, the morning air greeted her cold. Her phone buzzed again. Once, twice, over and over. Mom's and Zikri's names kept flashing on the screen. Her chest throbbed.

"I know, I know," she whispered, holding back tears. She couldn't bring herself to answer now.

Her steps led her to an ATM on a street corner. Zavira's hands shook as she inserted the black card. She held her breath when the screen showed the balance.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh God," she whispered, breath catching.

The number was far beyond anything she'd imagined. Her heart raced, torn between relief and fear. She withdrew just enough money, no more, then immediately left, as if afraid the machine might change its mind.

There was no motorbike she could ride. She'd pawned her only vehicle long ago just to eat and survive. So Zavira took an intercity bus, sitting by the window, watching the streets slowly turn into rice fields and modest houses.

Throughout the ride, her phone kept ringing. This time she answered.

"Sis!" Zikri's voice sounded hoarse and panicked. "They're throwing our things out of the house!"

Zavira's heart dropped to her stomach. "I'm on my way, Ki. Hold on, okay? I have the money."

The moment she got off the bus and ran to her house, Zavira saw a sight that nearly made her knees buckle. Their furniture was scattered across the yard. Wardrobe, chairs, mattress all thrown out by force.

"Stop!" Zavira shouted, her voice echoing among the crowd.

Herman sat on the ground, his face wet with tears. Farida was crying hysterically, hugging Zikri who trembled in fear. Neighbors stood around, crying too, but none dared to step forward.

Wulan turned around, a mocking smile clearly etched on her face.

"Oh, look who finally decided to come home. The runaway," she sneered. "Thought you'd run off somewhere."

Zavira stepped forward, eyes blazing. Her hand gripped the ATM card tightly.

She threw it straight at Mrs. Winda's face.

"I didn't run away!" Zavira yelled in fury. "I went to get money! To pay the debt and free my family from a filthy leech like you!"

Everyone fell silent.

"Take your money," Zavira continued, her voice shaking but firm. "And get out of our house. Now!"

Mrs. Winda smirked. "If it's not enough,"she said coldly, "I'll be back."

"Get out!" Zavira snapped.

After they were finally gone, Zavira ran and threw her arms around her family. Mrs. Farida cried out, hugging her daughter tightly. Herman sobbed, patting Zavira's shoulder with trembling hands.

Zikri cried in his sister's arms.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Zavira whispered over and over.

Suddenly her body felt light. Her vision blurred. The world spun before everything went dark.

---

On the other side of the city, a driver stood in front of Zavira's boarding house with a worried look. He dialed the number he'd been instructed to call.

"Sir, the girl isn't here," he reported.

On the other end, Xafier was silent for a moment.

"Her hometown," he said coldly. "We'll go get her ourselves."

"Get the car ready."