Siska's venom-laced, lethal question triggered a total short circuit in Mira's central nervous system. Her brain, already heavily congested by layers of overthinking, prolonged starvation, leftover lemon dish soap suds, and the oppressive weight of her concrete updo, flatly refused to process logic anymore.

Standing right in front of her, Siska struck a pose of supreme, obnoxious triumph, waiting for Mira to surrender in absolute defeat and burst into humiliating tears right there on the carpeted hallway of Balai Sudirman.

"Where... is that wealthy businessman boyfriend or husband of yours? I don't see him anywhere," Siska repeated, pressing each syllable like a poisoned dagger driving straight into Mira's solar plexus.

Mira glared right back at Siska with wide, bulging eyes. She refused to lose. She couldn't let her arch-nemesis revel in her spiritual destruction. But her common sense had long since flown out the window, hitching a ride on the venue's aggressive air-conditioning drafts.

"My... hus... husband... I mean..." Mira stammered frantically, cold sweat breaking out across her temples once more.

Right as Siska parted her lips to deliver a second, even more devastating wave of mocking insults, Mira made the most reckless executive decision of her entire existence: tactical retreat at all costs!

"Oh, sweet Siska! Long time no see, but I'm so sorry—my hubby is currently stuck in the VIP restroom line changing the baby's diaper, so I have got to run and catch up with him right this second! Bye-bye!" Mira shrieked in a panic, offering a sloppy, frantic wave of her hand.

Without waiting for Siska's retort, Mira executed a high-speed pivot—an acrobatic maneuver that completely disregarded the brutal physics of her crippled heel and her dangerously lopsided concrete updo.

Thump!

Mira spun wildly like a broken top. She stumbled forward, charging blindly ahead straight through the restricted VIP entrance threshold framed by heavy red satin ribbons.

To her absolute horror, right on the other side of that velvet curtain stood two heavy-hitting, formal-wear-clad VIPs—a stiff-faced, thick-mustached gentleman clad in a sleek black velvet blazer and an impossibly dignified matron draped in a gold-embroidered songket kebaya.

Before either of them could step aside, Mira’s un-aerodynamic, out-of-control momentum slammed her chest-first right into the gentleman and sideswiped the matron with the force of a small truck.

Crash!

Unwilling to go down alone and kiss the carpet in isolated defeat, Mira’s panicked hands shot outward, wrapping themselves tightly into an enthusiastic, full-body death-grip around both elderly VIPs, burying her face squarely against the gentleman's velvet blazer, which reeked heavily of expensive cologne mixed with traditional eucalyptus oil.

The atmosphere right outside the VIP threshold instantly flash-froze.

Convinced she had just collided with Uncle Budi and Auntie Rina—her friendly relatives famous for slipping out thick red envelopes during holiday gatherings—Mira let out a theatrical, high-pitched screech of fake relief right into their embrace.

"Uncle! Auntie! Oh my god, I've missed you so much! I honestly thought you guys weren't going to make it to Satya's wedding! Thank goodness you guys are here to rescue me from the gold-draped alien stalker back there!" Mira blurted out obliviously, enthusiastically patting the velvet-clad gentleman's back with total familial abandon.

The gold-songket matron standing beside him blinked rapidly, her jaw dropping open as she stared down at the strange woman clinging for dear life to her husband.

The black-velvet-blazer gentleman stood completely rigid. He lowered his gaze, staring down at Mira, who was still buried deep against his chest, frantically trying to smooth down her Super Saiyan bangs, which were now plastered firmly against his designer buttons.

Several agonizing seconds bled by in absolute, suffocating silence. The distant orchestral music suddenly sounded like a solemn courtroom sentencing verdict.

"Ahem..." the velvet-clad gentleman cleared his throat. His voice was deep, resonant, and dripping with an authoritative gravity that sent an electric shiver straight down Mira's spine. "Pardon me, young lady... exactly who are you hugging, and precisely when did I get promoted to your uncle?"

Mira snapped her head up at lightning speed. She stared straight up into the face of the elderly gentleman she had just bear-hugged. Heavy eyebrows, a neatly trimmed mustache, chiseled facial features, and a piercing, razor-sharp gaze radiating top-tier institutional power.

That face belonged nowhere near friendly Uncle Budi. It belonged to the single most important human being in the entire building—the man whose official portrait loomed large across the grand welcome billboards in the main lobby.

That gentleman was H. Darmawan—Satya's biological father and Vanesha's father-in-law, a.k.a. the patriarch of the most heavily guarded, influential family inside the entire wedding venue that evening.

Instantly, every drop of blood in Mira’s body rushed violently down to her toes.

Her heart flatlined for three full, uninterrupted seconds.

"U... Uncle... I mean..." Mira's lips trembled violently, her eyes bulging with absolute, unmitigated horror as she stared up into the ice-cold, highly analytical glare of the groom's father.

Beside him, the matron in the gold-embroidered songket—who happened to be Satya's mother-in-law—let out a sharp huff, crossing her arms over her chest as she swept her eyes over Mira's ensemble, from the crown of her concrete updo down to the peanut-sauce disaster staining her baby pink dress, her face twisting into a mask of pure disgust and suspicion.

"That husband of yours in the VIP restroom... exactly what did he say to make you sprint through security like a wild animal and crash the core family's private sector, huh?" Mr. Darmawan demanded in a low, heavy voice that pierced straight through her soul, while Mira’s desperate arms remained locked tightly around his velvet jacket because her knees had officially lost all structural integrity to stand on their own.