“I was curious,” Kala said, shortly after turning off the stove.
Risa’s head snapped up, her gaze fixed fiercely on the man she had loved for years. She didn’t offer a word in response. Kala turned and sat across from her, his face a blank canvas. Risa rested her hands in her lap, her fingers knotting together as she felt her heart being squeezed by the weight of his silence. Knowing he wouldn't stop there, she chose to wait.
Kala pressed his lips together before offering a faint, distant smile. “I was curious, Liefje. Curious about what it felt like to be loved that deeply. My life revolves around layovers and flight plans—sleeping in luxury hotels across the most beautiful cities in the world. I wanted to know what it felt like to be loved the way you loved Ardo.”
Tears began to track down Risa’s cheeks. She swallowed hard before finding her voice. “Don’t say that name.”
He shook his head, his gaze flat and steady. “It sounds harsh, doesn’t it? But I’m being honest—that’s what I wanted after I realized how far you’d come to the Netherlands, all on your own, on a shoestring budget. What shocked me most was... the breakup had happened ages ago. Three years, Liefje!” Kala smirked, running a hand through his hair. “No woman has ever thought about me for that long, unless it was because I’m a pilot they wanted to show off to their friends. I was jealous. Yes, I was an arrogant man back then—that’s why I got suspended for defying my captain. I thought if I could conquer the skies, a woman would be easy. But you... you were difficult. You required strategy.”
Hearing his confession felt like standing in the rain with her face tilted upward, letting it sting her eyes; the honesty pricked like needles. Kala was a man with a certain ego, but she hadn't expected it to hurt this much to hear it stated so plainly. She pulled a tissue and began to dab at her eyes, noting from the corner of her vision that Kala made no move to offer a sweet, hollow comfort.
Risa blew her nose, past the point of caring about appearances. “If it was that hard for you, we should’ve ended things in the first year. I was... I was busy then, and we rarely saw each other. I wasn't even that in love with you yet, though I’ll admit you were interesting. For the first two years, we were really just friends.”
Kala looked deep into her eyes. “I knew you needed time. That’s why I agreed to read those books—I wanted to be someone you could actually talk to. I didn’t want the kind of women I usually met during layovers. We talked for a whole month in Amsterdam when you still thought I was just some strange tour guide. I wanted a woman I could really speak with, someone who wouldn't complain when I’m unreachable for hours on duty.”
“You forced yourself?” Risa countered, her brows knitting together.
Those Dublin-set thrillers were gruesome, filled with far too many murder scenes. Risa had read them to build her vocabulary and because she was bored with traditional romance. Though she’d been happy he’d started the series, she sometimes feared he had only been ‘kind’ or ‘polite’ to spare her feelings. Frankly, she hated the idea; it would make all their subsequent depth feel like a lie.
Kala shook his head slowly. “No. I was trying to understand you. Truly. As it happens, I ended up liking those stories, but... I won’t deny I was trying to get into your head. I wanted you to like me. I was working toward a goal I’d set for myself. I’m sorry if that’s confusing.”
Risa gave a wide, watery smile and looked down at the tissue in her hand. “Actually, I’ve been waiting for a man like that.” She looked back at him, her expression brightening. “A man with a sexy mind.”
“Liefje,” Kala grumbled, though his lips curved into a shy smile. “Can I get back to cooking? The pasta’s practically crying because I’m neglecting it. Its tears are far more precious than my future wife suddenly turning this into a melodrama.”
Kala returned to his cooking while Risa worked on steadying herself. She didn't need false comfort. Kala’s honesty had been painful, but it was exactly the answer she needed to be certain he had chosen her. It wasn't just because it was time to marry or because he had run out of options. This realization was worth more than anything. Now, all that remained was to see how he would officially ask for her hand with a ring.
She could draw so many conclusions from his confession. There was nothing wrong with the way she had loved Ardo; that relationship simply had to end because they had grown apart. Even though Risa had once closed her heart, a man like Kala had existed out there, craving her affection. For a man whose life was a constant cycle of movement, it felt extraordinary to be wanted that much.
With one last wipe of her eyes, Risa rose from her chair to toss the tissue. She hugged him from behind, a silent thank you for his honesty. “He always sat with me while I read, but you actually read what I read.”
Kala let out an amused snort, focused on their dinner. “Every library in Jakarta probably bore witness to that,” he teased without turning around. “Don’t compare us, Liefje. I know my worth. I’ll let him be your first love, but I’ll make damn sure I’m your last.”
Risa laughed, closing her eyes as she breathed in his scent. She would love him even if his favorite fragrance was something as mystical as jasmine or frangipani. “The absolute confidence of this man. I get it—as a former professional playboy, Kala Dirk is utterly shameless. Thick-skinned.”
Now Risa understood why no one had caught her attention after Ardo; no one else had been willing to try and understand her. Men would mistake her for being too fierce or defensive, even calling her arrogant or 'hard to get.' In reality, she was like a kitten who had lost its mother—prone to running and hiding whenever a hand reached out to stroke its head.
“Hey! I was a playboy by circumstance, not because I went out looking for multiple girlfriends,” he complained, reaching for a plate. “Can you help me with the other plate, Liefje? The pasta’s almost done. You must be hungry after all that crying. I guarantee this will fill you up and help you sleep soundly.”
Risa let go and did as she was told. “Dea mentioned there were a lot of women from Uzbekistan. Good grief, Kala Willem Dirk is the definition of ‘a man with taste,’ and he doesn’t play around.” She felt a prickle of annoyance mentioning it, but it was far too much fun watching him get flustered.
“I was in my early twenties when I dated women like that; my priorities were a bit shallow. If I’d met you when I was twenty-one or twenty-two, I would have snatched you away from Ardo by any means necessary and laughed in his face. So, what did you expect?” Kala smiled broadly, then offered Risa a bite of the meat.
“You would have been a demon if you didn't believe in God or have a religion, Mas,” she teased before she began chewing. “Wow, this is delicious! Maybe I should be the one working to support us instead.”
Kala pulled her into a hug, his laughter bright as he kissed the top of her head. “You’re unbelievable. Honestly, you are.”