Page 70 of Well, That Was Unexpected

Eighth Aunt throws her head back and gives a mirthless laugh. “Oh, you ambitious, stupid child.” Even though I’m not the subject of Eighth Aunt’s wrath, my skin breaks out into gooseflesh as she takes a step toward Rina. I notice that even the guards shrink back a little. “Nobody comes after my family and gets away unscathed, my dear. Now off you go. I expect you’ll be hearing from your boss in about—”

As if on cue, Rina must have detected her phone buzzing, because her eyes widen and she reaches into her back pocket and pulls it out. Her face visibly pales when she looks at the screen.

“Ah, that’s probably her.” Eighth Aunt nods at the guards and they nudge Rina toward the exit once more. This time, her head’s hung low as she walks, no longer a proud warrior but a defeated one. I don’t know why, but I take no pleasure in seeing her leave. All I feel is exhausted and empty. I don’t even know how Sharlot must be feeling right now. I don’t know how to make it okay for her, how to make anything okay for anyone.

“Papa,” I say, or try to, anyway. My voice breaks on the first syllable, and I feel so tiny and stupid and helpless and so utterly awful in every way possible. Papa comes toward me and engulfs me in a fierce hug—none of the awkward Asian hugs he usuallygives—and Eleanor throws her arms around the two of us, holding us together like she always does.

“It’s okay, son, we’ll make it okay. It’ll be okay,” Papa murmurs.

I don’t see how it could ever be okay, but just for the moment, I close my eyes and let myself believe in his lies. Just for a little while. Just until everything stops falling apart.

A crowd has already gathered at the exit from the wings. Rina must have live-streamed her explosive reveal to the whole country, and now it feels like everyone is here, calling out my name and shouting all sorts of shit.

“Sharlot, is it true that you’re pregnant?” someone cries.

“You whore!” someone else shouts.

“Shut up!” Mama shouts back, only for them to get louder.

“Did you know your daughter was sleeping around?”

“You’re a bad mother!”

“Shut the fuck up, you trolls!” Kiki screams.

It’s suffocating. I feel as though the air has been sucked out of the atmosphere. I think I’m gasping, or maybe I’m crying, or I don’t know what. Something’s happening with my lungs, anyway. Like they’ve forgotten how to lung. Kiki strides ahead of us, clearing a path until we break free from the growing crowd. We half walk, half jog all the way back to the villa as best as we can in our high heels and floor-length gowns.

It’s only after we go inside and lock the front door that I’mable to take a proper breath. I sag against the wall and close my eyes, but once I do, I see flashes of awful images. George looking at me with shock and disappointment. Rina’s horribly triumphant face. Everyone else’s expressions, a mixture of gleeful, scandalized looks. I can’t. I can’t do this. I open my eyes again and see Mama approaching me with a glass of water.

“Drink,” she says. I take it from her and drink gratefully.

“I need to talk to Bradley. I need to—Rina got ahold of those pictures, and I need to know how.”

Mama sighs. “Are you sure?”

I nod.

“Are you okay?” Mama says.

No, of course not, I want to say. But I have a feeling if I said that, I’d end up bursting into tears and crying forever. So I just give a shrug before taking out my phone and saying, “I’ll be a minute.”

Mama and Kiki nod, and for once, neither one has anything to say. No smart-ass remarks from Kiki, no strict advice from Mama. I’m so unbelievably grateful to them for this small kindness, for everything they’ve done. But first, Bradley.

After they’ve left, I take a deep breath and call Bradley on WhatsApp. The dial tone rings and rings for what seems like ages, though in reality it’s only like four rings. When he finally picks up, my throat closes up and my eyes fill at the sound of his familiar voice.

“Shar? Hey, what’s up? I’ve been texting and calling and—”

“I know, I’m sorry. I just—stop talking, Bradley!” I blurt out.

He stops. I take a big gulp of air. “Uh. Did you…did a reporter from Indonesia contact you asking about me?”

“What? No. Wait, what?”

The confusion in his voice is palpable. Then the realization hits me. Of course he hadn’t talked to Rina about me. Rina didn’t have to reach out to him. All she had to do was look at his Insta profile. “Did you ever take down the photos of you and me from your Instagram?” I say.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t think I had to? I mean, I knew you’d broken up with me, but they were good memories.” There’s a pause, then Bradley says, “Wait, please tell me what’s going on, Shar. Are you in trouble?”

“I’m…” I sigh. “It’s hard to explain.” I close my eyes. God, how could I have been so stupid? I thought that deleting the photos from my account would’ve been enough. Of course it wasn’t. Of course Rina, being an actual professional journalist, would’ve found out the truth. “I’ve fucked everything up,” I whisper brokenly.

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