The phone's sharp ring cut through the silence of Alina's tiny apartment like a knife. She jolted awake, her heart already racing before she was fully conscious. Another nightmare about drowning in bills and debt had plagued her sleep.
Her eyes felt like sandpaper as she squinted at the unknown number flashing on her cracked phone screen. Probably another debt collector, she thought bitterly. She'd been dodging their calls for weeks now. But something—maybe desperation, maybe intuition—made her swipe to answer.
"Good morning, is this Alina Sari?" The woman's voice was crisp and professional.
Alina's heart slammed against her chest. "Yes, that's me."
"This is Melissa from HR at TechNova Corp. We've reviewed your application and would like to invite you for an interview. Are you available tomorrow morning at ten?"
The room spun around her. Alina gripped the phone so hard her knuckles went white. *This can't be real. This has to be another cruel dream.* She held her breath, waiting to wake up on her lumpy mattress with nothing but disappointment.
"I—yes! Absolutely! I'd love to come in!"
"Perfect. I'll email you the address and details. See you tomorrow, Miss Sari."
The line went dead. Alina sat frozen on the edge of her bed, staring at the phone like it might disappear. Then the tears came—not the bitter tears of despair she'd shed so many nights, but tears of pure, overwhelming relief.
"Mom! MOM!" She burst out of her room, hair a mess, practically bouncing off the walls. Her mother was in their excuse for a kitchen, stirring a pot of plain rice—their breakfast, lunch, and probably dinner.
"TechNova Corp called! They want to interview me!"
Her mother dropped the wooden spoon, her eyes immediately filling with tears. "Are you sure, sweetheart? Are you absolutely sure?"
"Yes! Tomorrow morning!" Alina threw herself into her mother's arms, and they both cried happy tears in their cramped kitchen that was nothing like the spacious home they'd lost.
But reality hit her like a slap. Alina pulled back, panic flooding her features. "Oh God, Mom. I have to interview tomorrow, but I don't have anything to wear! Nothing professional, nothing that doesn't look like..."
"Like we're broke?" her mother finished gently, wiping her tears. "We'll figure it out, honey. We always do."
Alina spent the rest of the day glued to their ancient laptop, researching everything she could about TechNova Corp. The more she read, the more amazed she became.
TechNova Corp had exploded onto Southeast Asia's tech scene in just five years. They created apps and platforms used by millions of people. Their starting salaries were three times what other companies offered. Their headquarters was a gleaming tower in Jakarta's fanciest business district—the kind of place Alina used to shop without thinking twice about prices.
But their CEO fascinated her most. James Leonhart, only twenty-eight years old, had built this tech empire from scratch. Every photo on the company website showed him from behind or in shadow, like he was deliberately hiding his face. His bio was frustratingly vague: top of his class at some prestigious university, founded TechNova right after graduation, became insanely successful almost overnight.
"What's with all the mystery?" Alina muttered, squinting at a blurry photo of him giving a presentation. "Why does it feel like he's hiding something?"
That evening, she and her mother ventured to the nearest mall with their last bit of money. Store after store, price tag after price tag—everything felt impossibly expensive when you were counting every rupiah.
Finally, in a discount store having a clearance sale, they found a charcoal gray blazer they could actually afford. It wasn't the designer clothes Alina used to wear without thinking, but it was decent enough. With a simple white blouse, black pants, and secondhand dress shoes that weren't too scuffed, it would have to work.
"You look beautiful and professional," her mother said, watching Alina try on the outfit in the store mirror. "Confidence is what matters most."
Alina stared at her reflection. The girl looking back at her was still pretty, but different. There was something harder in her eyes now, something that hadn't been there before all the pain and struggle. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. Maybe this version of herself was stronger.
That night, Alina practiced in front of their tiny bedroom mirror until her throat was sore. She rehearsed answers to every possible interview question, practiced her handshake, worked on making eye contact without looking desperate.
"Good morning, I'm Alina Sari. I'm very excited about the opportunity to join TechNova Corp because of your reputation for innovation..." She repeated it over and over until it sounded natural instead of robotic.
Her mother knocked and came in with hot tea. "It's getting late, sweetheart. You need sleep."
"Just a few more minutes, Mom. I have to get this perfect." Alina accepted the tea with shaking hands. "This is our shot. Our only shot to get our lives back. I can't screw this up."
"You won't screw it up. You're smart and you're a fighter. Any company would be lucky to have you."
Alina hugged her mother tight, breathing in the familiar comfort that always made her feel safer. "I'm terrified, Mom. What if they find out about Dad's scandal? What if they reject me because of what happened to our family?"
"If it's meant to be, it'll happen. If not, something better is waiting." Her mother stroked her hair the way she had when Alina was little. "All that matters is you're trying your best."
After her mother left, Alina sat on her bed staring at her interview outfit hanging in their makeshift closet. Her mind drifted to the past—to days when she could buy expensive clothes without even looking at the price, when the idea of needing a job seemed ridiculous because she'd never imagined her pampered life could disappear.
Now, one job interview felt like her lifeline to a decent future.
She opened her phone's photo gallery, scrolling through old college pictures. One made her stop cold—her graduation day, beaming with pride, surrounded by friends, wearing a dress that probably cost more than their rent. In the background, barely visible, was a figure with thick glasses standing alone with his parents.
Leon.
Alina zoomed in on the awkward young man she'd once treated like dirt. She remembered how he always sat in the front row, always had his hand up when professors asked questions, always got perfect grades but was invisible to everyone. She remembered how he used to look at her with those hopeful, admiring eyes—and how she'd crushed him with public humiliation just because she could.
"I'm sorry, Leon," she whispered to the photo. "If I ever see you again, I'll give you the apology you deserved."
But what were the chances? Jakarta was huge, and Leon had probably moved somewhere else by now. Maybe he had a great life now—successful career, loving family. Maybe he'd forgotten all about the spoiled brat who'd made his college years hell.
Alina closed the photos and set her phone aside. Tomorrow would change everything, one way or another. She had to focus on the future, not get trapped in guilt about the past.
But before sleep took her, she whispered one more time: "I hope you're happy wherever you are, Leon. And I hope I can be better than the person I used to be."
That night, Alina dreamed of gleaming office buildings, important meetings, and herself sitting at a real desk with a real job, finally able to take care of her mother. In the dream, she made it. She clawed her way back from rock bottom and proved she deserved a second chance.
She had no idea how close to reality that dream would be—just not in the way she expected.
---
Across the city, in a luxury penthouse with a view that stretched across all of Jakarta, James Leonhart stood at floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a tablet displaying Alina Sari's resume. His face was calm, but his dark eyes burned with emotions no one else would ever see.
"Alina Sari," he murmured, studying the photo on her CV. Still beautiful, but the arrogance was gone now. "Finally. Time for round two."
He set the tablet down and picked up a glass of wine, taking a slow sip while gazing out at the city lights below.
"This time, you'll learn what it feels like to be played with," he whispered, his smile cold as winter. "Welcome to the game I've been planning for years, Alina."
The night breeze whispered through the windows, carrying with it the weight of revenge that had been growing in his heart for far too long.
Two people, both scarred by their past, were about to collide again. One hoping for redemption and a fresh start. The other hungry for payback that had been years in the making.
Tomorrow, the real game would begin.
Aksara