"Mom, I'm really hungry," Arkan said with an adorably pouty face.
"Did you eat your lunch?" I asked while helping him into the car.
"I ate everything," he answered cheerfully. How could I forget about Axel when his mini version was right in front of me?
I gently ruffled his curly hair and pretended to think hard.
"How about we eat udon?" I offered, and he immediately beamed.
"Yes... Yes...! I want udon, Mom!" he replied excitedly. I kissed his cheek before starting the car.
Having Arkan is a blessing I've never regretted. He came into my life after Axel filed for divorce. My pregnancy didn't make Axel change his mind, even though he originally divorced me because he thought I couldn't have children. Instead, he accused me of carrying another man's child. His mother and siblings supported his accusations.
Only after I found out that Axel had gotten a coworker pregnant did I finally understand why he was so eager to divorce me and refused to acknowledge Arkan.
Just look at him now—there's no denying it. Arkan inherited everything from his father: his curly hair, big eyes, and even the way he talks.
Since our divorce, and now with Arkan already four years old, I've never seen Axel again and have no intention of finding out anything about him. After our separation, I left Bandung and started a new life in Jakarta.
"I'll take you straight home later. Aunt Rere is at home, so if you get bored, you can ask her to play with you. I need to stop by the store first, but I'll be back by evening," I said as I helped him out of the car in front of a Japanese restaurant.
"Can I come with you, Mom?" he pleaded with puppy eyes.
"Aunt Rere is probably busy," he added, his face looking even more pitiful.
I sighed, unable to resist his request. "Alright, but let's eat first."
I let Arkan choose whatever he wanted, and as expected, he picked udon with his favorite toppings. I ordered the same to save myself the trouble of reading the menu. As for Mbok Rasti, I had already asked Rere to buy her lunch—she definitely wouldn't like udon.
Arkan loved adding a ridiculous amount of green onions to his udon, just like Axel used to. Oh, God! Stop thinking about Axel!
I smiled as I watched Arkan eat. Since he was still young, he had never asked about his father. If he ever did, I had my answer ready : his father had passed away. That was the best response for a man who refused to acknowledge his own child.
Since Arkan didn't like matcha, I ordered him fresh orange juice instead. Just watching him eat made me happy.
"Excuse me, may I sit here?" A man with a tray in his hand asked.
I glanced around and saw plenty of empty tables nearby, so why did he want to sit here?
"Oh, sure, go ahead," I replied politely, wanting to set a good example for Arkan—to always be polite, even when feeling annoyed like I was now.
A man, likely around my age, confidently sat across from us. Before he started eating, he smiled at me, and I instantly knew what kind of smile that was—the kind meant for charming women. Unfortunately for him, I wasn't just any woman.
I returned his gaze with a slight smile. His face seemed familiar. Had I met him before?
"Nice to meet the owner of Bee's Kitchen," he said, still flashing that charming smile.
My eyes widened in surprise. Usually, when I was recognized in public, it was by women—young moms or older ladies—but never by a man like this.
Did he enjoy watching my cooking channel? No, I was overthinking it. Maybe his wife watched my videos, and he simply recognized my face from them.
"Thank you. Nice to meet you too," I replied, maintaining the friendly demeanor I always had when people greeted me in public. Ever since my content gained popularity, I often got recognized outside, which I found delightful. I always tried to be polite to my viewers.
"I'm Kalandra, but you can call me Kala," he introduced himself.
"Ah! No need to tell me your name—I already know it. Binar, but you usually go by Bee, right?" he asked with a knowing smile.
Normally, if a man acted like this, I would leave immediately. But this time, I didn't. Instead, I smiled, amused that he got my name right.
"I'm one of your fans," he added.
"Thank you, Kala," I said sincerely.
His eyes shifted to Arkan, and I could tell he was curious.
"Arkan, say hi to Mom's friend," I prompted my son, who was too focused on his meal to care about anything else.
"Hello, Mister," Arkan greeted briefly before returning to his food. I held back a chuckle at his indifferent attitude toward Kala.
"Your son?" Kala asked, and I nodded.
From experience, this was the point where most men would lose interest and leave. But not Kala. Instead, he continued the conversation with lighthearted topics, and before I knew it, my meal was finished.
"Well, Kala, I think it's time for us to go," I said, glancing at Arkan, who was now engrossed in a racing game on my phone. He was always too focused when playing that game.
"See you again," Kala said with a wide grin. That smile was probably meant for Arkan, not for me.
I quickly drove to Kebayoran Lama, where my baking supply store was located. When I decided to start a business alongside my career as a content creator, opening a baking supply store was my top choice.
The two-unit shop looked busy as I parked my car.
"Stay close to me, okay?" I told Arkan, who tended to wander off when I got distracted with inventory checks.
"I want to stay with Aunt Oci," he said, pointing to the cashier. Of course—he wanted to continue playing his game, which was why he asked to sit there.
"Alright, but just for thirty minutes," I reminded him. He immediately ran to sit beside Oci, eyes glued to the screen.
I was about to head to the stockroom when my phone rang. It was Rere.
"Did you read the offer from Boga Rasa?" Rere asked.
"Yes, I was just about to call you to accept the deal," I replied.
"But I thought you already said yes to them," she said, sounding confused.
"That's impossible. You always handle these things," I answered.
"Then why did their director message you directly on Instagram? Do you know him?" Rere asked, making me frown. Besides managing my partnerships, Rere also handled all my social media accounts since I rarely had time to check them myself.
"What do you mean? I don't get it."
"The director of Boga Rasa sent you a message, saying they're waiting for your cooking demo at their company," Rere explained.
"Who? I don't even know their director's name."
Silence fell as I processed her words.
"Kalandra Kusumaatmaja, CEO of Boga Rasa. Son of Hendra Kusumaatmaja, the sixth richest person in Indonesia," Rere continued without pause.
Oh, God! Could the man I just met be the same Kalandra she was talking about?(*)