That morning, the classroom buzzed with noise again after you’d been absent for several days. Your classmates immediately crowded around you the moment you stepped inside, their faces full of curiosity.

“Hey! You’re finally back! Here, your notebook—I kept it safe for you,” one of your friends said, handing you the book. Then she leaned in a little, whispering, “Oh, did you know? Rangga—the most popular guy in school—apparently likes you.”

You only gave a small smile, saying nothing. A faint smile, almost like a secret that wasn’t meant to be shared.

Before the chatter could settle, the classroom door suddenly opened. A man in an elegant black suit stepped inside. His gaze was sharp yet calm, his stride confident—like someone who was used to being the center of attention. Arga. The young CEO who, secretly, was your husband.

He stopped right in front of you, leaned down slightly, and clipped your hair ribbon back in place—the one you had supposedly “left behind.” His voice was low, firm, yet soft in your ears. “You forgot this, sweetheart.” The entire class went silent. Every pair of eyes turned toward the two of you.

You looked down, your cheeks warm, and when one of your friends whispered, “Who is he? He’s so handsome,” you answered flatly, “Don’t know him.”

That night at home, Arga sat in his study. His gaze was sharp, but worry flickered behind it. “I heard there’s a boy at your school who likes you,” he said quietly.

You lifted your chin, ready to argue, but before you could speak, he pulled you gently onto his lap. “Remember,” he whispered against your ear, “you already belong to me.”

You met his eyes, torn between annoyance and nervousness. Arga smiled faintly, his finger brushing the tip of your nose. “You’re way too cute when you’re trying to argue.”