“Ma, what kind of amulet is this?” Aldo asked after his mother finally picked up the call.
Aldo came from an upper-class Chinese family, and it was customary for everyone to at least be fluent in Mandarin. He wasn’t as multilingual as Giska, who could speak Hokkien, Cantonese, and Mandarin, but he could understand both Hokkien and Cantonese fairly well, even if he couldn’t reply using the same structure. Mandarin was his strongest language, though he wasn’t particularly skilled at writing Chinese characters.
“That’s an amulet to ward off evil spirits,” his mother replied.
“Huh?” Aldo examined the small yellow rectangular paper covered with red symbols.
He had already searched online to understand its meaning but wasn’t entirely sure, so he ended up calling his mother for confirmation. Tonight was the day after that ridiculous incident—being asked to pay an illegal parking fee of five thousand rupiah in front of Giska’s apartment. He had hoped that Giska would soften a little, maybe even forgive him, but it seemed he had to start everything over from zero.
“Where are you right now, Do?” his mother asked.
“In front of your future daughter-in-law’s apartment,” Aldo replied, letting out an intentionally annoying laugh.
“What?!” His mother sounded shocked.
“Oh, come on, Ma. Don’t tell me you still don’t know who your son’s been in love with all this time? The most beautiful girl I ever brought home—ring any bells?” he teased.
“Giska? You’re unbelievable, Aldo. I love her like a daughter, but you know her background is… unclear. Who knows what kind of woman her mother was—maybe not a good person,” his mother said bluntly.
Aldo sighed and nodded to himself, defeated. Parents were all the same. They never saw what truly mattered. Giska was kind, gentle, and hardworking. If only people knew how deeply the world judged her for something beyond her control—being born to a mother who wasn’t rich or respected—they might think twice before treating her that way.
“Ma, I have a plan B,” Aldo said flatly. “If you and Dad still object, maybe you’ll just have to accept having a grandchild before the wedding.”
“Are you out of your mind? You can date, but don’t even think about marriage!”
“Whatever, Ma.”
Aldo ended the call, annoyed. He muttered under his breath, tired of how judgmental his mother could be—always caring about family background instead of character.
“Giska’s still Uncle Hendy’s daughter,” he whispered bitterly.
He knocked on Giska’s door again, calling her name, but there was still no response. A security guard happened to pass by. The heavyset man recognized Aldo right away—the same guy who had asked him to deliver food and flowers the night before.
“Oh, Ko Aldo? Still not on good terms with Miss Giska?”
Aldo turned to him, smiling wryly. He remembered the guard’s friendly face and simply nodded. “I saw her leaving earlier after changing clothes. Maybe she went out with some friends—there was a car that picked her up,” the guard said kindly.
Friends? Who? Giska’s only close friend was Nadia, and that chatterbox was currently in Singapore. Aldo scratched his temple, chuckling at his own foolishness. He had come here because of Giska’s recent post online—something about feeling tired and needing a distraction.
“Seriously, sir? Thanks,” Aldo said, and then headed back to his car.
He had no choice but to leave; Giska wasn’t home. It was the weekend anyway—maybe she had plans with an old friend or one of her coworkers. Aldo started driving toward a live music lounge, a place he often visited either to hang out or perform.
He had been a vocalist since high school and sometimes needed the thrill of performing in front of a crowd—to let out his stress and calm the chaos in his heart. Each time he went on stage, he felt alive again, as if music poured energy back into his veins.
When he arrived, Rey showed up just a few minutes later. The man was about to go abroad soon, and they had been talking about his upcoming trip for weeks.
“You look rough, man,” Rey said.
“Same old—just got off work. Spent the whole day in front of a screen and an air conditioner,” Aldo replied.
They walked backstage, greeting the crew and checking equipment. Aldo chatted for a bit with the sound engineer, but before he knew it, Ardo and Tomi pulled him aside, with Rey following behind. Tonight’s spotlight was on Aldo—he was the frontman, and being the vocalist wasn’t just about having a handsome face. It was about charisma, the ability to make a song feel alive. Aldo was good at that—too good, some might say. Maybe being a natural flirt and a poet gave him that edge.
“Working hard for once?” Aldo teased the two most mischievous members of the group.
“Just wanted to check your voice, man. It’s probably rusty. Been ages since you last sang in front of a crowd,” Tomi shot back.
Tomi had been born into a family of musicians, which explained his perfectionism when it came to sound. If Indra was the leader of their group overall, then Tomi was the leader of the band—the one who took full responsibility for how good or bad their performances turned out.
“Giska’s gone who-knows-where,” Aldo complained.
“Dude, she’s not your girlfriend. Don’t act like such a possessive idiot,” Tomi replied without missing a beat.
“Screw you,” Aldo said, chuckling.
Then they began vocal warm-ups, preparing for the songs they would perform on stage later that night. The atmosphere in Indra’s club was already electric, and by the time they started playing, Aldo knew they were about to set the whole place on fire.