Fifteen minutes into the journey, Rica managed to get information about Amri, and they quickly became acquainted. He initially wanted to work in a company relevant to his degree, but Indra forbade him and asked him to remain employed at the bar as a permanent staff member.
Rica admired how Amri managed to maintain his integrity despite working in an environment surrounded by alcohol. In his new role, Amri focused more on the bar’s financial management but occasionally served VIP guests and trained new staff.
Indra was undeniably the ideal "Big Boss" type and perfectly matched with Priska, who was graceful and gentle. Rica had once been drawn to men like Indra, but now she was smitten with Bisma—a calm, reserved man who was utterly unaffected by physical beauty. It made sense since Bisma had been in love with Priska for a long time, and Rica suspected he still was. What was Rica compared to that? Maybe Indra was right: Rica truly embodied a "Princess Syndrome," spoiled like a little princess who couldn’t bear even a scratch or a drop of sunlight.
"What time should I pick you up, Miss?" Amri asked.
"Ugh, don’t call me ‘Miss.’ Just call me by my name," Rica replied, sitting in the back seat, lost in thoughts of Bisma. She had no enthusiasm for her classes and just wanted to laze around at home.
Amri glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "I wouldn’t dare, Miss. Mr. Indra is my boss."
"Fine, whatever," Rica said dismissively.
Since she had no power to oppose her brother in law, Rica's mind swirled with plans to get rid of her overly polite chauffeur. Perhaps she could start by dressing up and distracting him.
The next day, Rica chose to sit beside Amri. She wore a long dress but casually lifted her legs so that her thighs peeked out. Initially, Amri seemed indifferent, but Rica noticed him stealing glances and swallowing hard now and then. Mission accomplished—Amri looked uncomfortable.
The following day, Rica wore skinny jeans and a floral blouse, leaving three top buttons undone during the drive. She constantly chatted to force Amri to look at her. Sometimes, on their way back from campus, Rica would even loop her arm around his, making him mutter prayers under his breath.
Three days passed quickly. Amri faithfully drove Rica to and from her classes. But on the fourth day, a peaceful afternoon turned into an opportunity for Rica to eavesdrop from upstairs. Amri was in the living room, visibly relieved to see Indra, who had come home early to spend time with his wife.
Rica crept upstairs and caught bits of their conversation. She nearly burst out laughing when she heard Amri explaining why he wanted to quit.
"Sir, honestly, I can resist touching alcohol even though we have so many tempting drinks at the bar. But your sister-in-law is testing my faith," Amri confessed.
"She’s been flirting with you?" Indra asked, scratching his temple.
He called Priska from the kitchen. Shortly after, she joined them in the living room, and Amri exchanged pleasantries before getting to the point.
In the end, Amri admitted defeat. He preferred to work overtime at the bar without pay rather than endure Rica's antics. With Indra’s permission, Amri said his goodbyes and left.
Meanwhile, Rica hurriedly changed into modest clothes, fearing Indra’s wrath. Unlike Priska, who couldn’t stay angry at Rica for long, Indra had little tolerance for her behavior. Fifteen minutes later, Rica came downstairs, pretending nothing had happened, and grabbed a juice box from the fridge.
"Rica, didn’t I tell you not to mess with him?" Indra scolded.
"Hmm? What did I do?" Rica feigned innocence.
Indra ignored her and went upstairs, leaving Rica to turn toward Priska, who was washing glasses. Her sister rolled her eyes as Rica hugged her from behind, acting clingy.
"Why is your husband so grumpy? His wife’s pregnant, but he’s always scolding me," Rica complained, leaning on Priska’s shoulder and caressing her growing belly. Rica couldn’t wait to see the baby.
Priska chuckled, drying a glass and teasing her sister. "Trust me, he’s much scarier when he’s genuinely angry, and I don’t want to see that again."
"That bad?" Rica asked curiously.
"Something like that," Priska replied with a small smile.
As they put dishes away, a mischievous thought crossed Rica’s mind. She couldn’t resist asking, "By the way, wasn’t he’s super impatient when you were pregnant? How did you two even handle it?"
Rica vividly remembered catching Indra cradling Priska on his lap, kissing her like he’d just run a marathon. It left an impression on Rica’s memory.
"What do you mean?" Priska asked, drying her hands with a tissue.
"You know, the, um, sex part," Rica blurted out.
Priska’s jaw dropped in shock. "Oh my gosh, Rica! That’s private!"
"I’m just curious, Sis. I mean, he’s kind of, you know, intense, right? And you’re even cuter when you’re pregnant. You were skinnier when we first met," Rica teased, gesturing toward Priska’s fuller figure thanks to pregnancy hormones.
"The doctor gave us advice, of course. But do I need to discuss this with you? Not appropriate," Priska scolded, hands on her hips.
Shortly after, Indra came downstairs, dressed casually, his hair damp and smelling of soap. He embraced Priska and groaned, clearly stressed. Priska giggled, patting his back and head.
"I’m already stressed with work, and your sister is making it worse," Indra complained.
"She’s young and has a lot of energy," Priska said in Rica’s defense.
"I wasn’t this much of a handful at her age, Pris. And you were nothing like her at 21. Rica’s spoiled and dramatic—Princess Syndrome to the core."
Rica rolled her eyes, pretending not to hear as she rummaged through the freezer for ice cream.
"Pris, I’m pretty sure your lil sister knows every position in the world even if she’s never tried them. As innocent as you were in your early 20s, you’ve got nothing on Rica," Indra said, pointing at Rica. "Bet she’s done all sorts of stuff with Ethan."
"Know-it-all," Rica muttered, irritated.