6

"Is it laundry day?" My sister, Dian teases me in Indonesian as she munches on her snack while watching me button the tweed jacket I've just put on.

"No, no, no. Wrong question. Is it pay day?"

Oh I know what she meant by that.

Being sisters means we share our clothes despite the difference in our size; she's two sizes smaller so she can wear mine but I can never fit into hers. That also means she knows every article of clothing I own, and this two-piece skirt suit is too obvious for being a brand new expensive-looking item I just owned.

"Whose is it?"

"Not mine."

"Yeaaaaa I know it's not yours, obviously," she rolls her eyes at the last word, "But who's the designer? How much is it?"

To be honest, I have no idea how much does this skirt suit cost. All I know is Drey specifically asked me to wear this on my first meeting with Mr Gunn.

Uhh, I mean Honey.

"Uhm let me check," I walk to my bed and grab the skirt I laid there, wanting to inspect the tag at the back to which she gasps, "You don't knowww? You don't even know who's the designer? Oh my God, where is my sister? This is not Alya! You're not Alya! Hey, give me back my sister!"

I laugh at her dramatic outburst as I hear Mama's voice next, "Alya? Is that you?"

I turn around to look at my phone screen that shows my mother who's walking towards me. Oh how I miss this woman! Eventhough this would be our third time talking this week.

Her eyes widen upon seeing me slip into the circle cut skirt that reaches way above my knee instead of stopping at my feet, "Why are you dressing up at home?"

She sure knows me too well that I normally wear shorts and tank top instead of being all dressy. Being a hijabis, there is no way I'm going out in this either.

Guess it's time for the revelation? Because I'm always honest with them. They're not only my family but my best friends as well. We're THAT close.

"I'm going out in half an hour." I tell her as I fix the pantyhose underneath the skirt.

"Whaaaaaaaat?" They are totally shocked with their jaw dropped right on the floor.

I'd be surprised too if my hijabis sister/daughter who's been dressing modestly since the past ten years suddenly tells me she's going out in a Chanel tweed skirt suit.

"Dian, is that my daughter?" She asks my younger sister in a serious tone.

"I already asked her where the real Alya is."

Both of them stop conversing to each other and look at me again, "Is there something you're not telling us?"

Their puzzled look is adorable but I only have a few minutes left so I need to make this quick instead of dilly-dallying further.

"I swear this is not culture shock or peer pressure," because last week they suspected those were the reasons why my hair color went from black to blonde without me even hinting that I wanna do something to my hair, for the fact I always share my thoughts with them, "I still wear hijab at work but erm, I've decided to dive deeper, to figure out if that's really what I want or I did it because of him."

They nod in sync, totally getting who ‘him’ is. The douchebag boyfriend.

"I'm trying to fix this doubt I've been having. It doesn't feel right to keep on guessing if I'm doing this for God or anyone else. So I guess, since nobody knows me here, maybe I should try for like a few weeks, to figure things out."

***

This is so not me; donning a non-modest designer outfit, putting on a pair of four inches Jimmy Choo's, holding a Birkin, face scribbled with make up and this bright red lipstick, with my blonde hair tucked nicely in a low bun for the whole world to see.

This, is Scarlett Monroe.

It's a quarter to seven and my side job that gives me way more money than what I earn monthly is about to start.

I walk straight to the entrance of this fancy building which the doorman nods to me knowingly as if he's seen me before that he allows me to walk straight to the main lobby.

"Mrs Gunn," a man dressed in a similar uniform as the doorman greets me with a smile when I seem to be lost in finding my way for the elevator that will bring me to my sugar daddy's penthouse, "Good evening."

Okay. I can see that I'm not the only one who is highly trained to be in Mr Gunn little fantasy.

"Good evening," I smile back at him, "Eric." And say his name once I see his name tag.

"Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh yes," Thank God I remember to act like a Scarlett Monroe instead of the chaotic Alya, "May I know where is the elevator?"

"Yes, I can bring you to the elevator, Mrs Gunn."

Drey would kill me if he knew I forgot the layout of this lobby that lead to Mr Gunn's private elevator because he kept reminding me that's the first thing I've gotta memorise since it sets the scene of this entire charade.

Uhh, let us pray that he'll never find out about this little mishap.

Eric helps me getting to the private elevator and from there on, I go up to level 75 on my own.

Drey also made me learn by heart the floor plan of this penthouse for me to know what is where but I still can't help myself from being fascinated once the elevator door opens that I was greeted with an infinity swimming pool. He really is ‘rich’ rich to have one built in here.

"You're early." The voice startles me as I turn around to find its owner.

Damn it, Drey must be disappointed with me right now. First with the elevator, now showing the first sign of how un-Scarlett I am.

Because Scarlett doesn't startle. She's a very composed, calculative woman. She hides her feelings very well.

Perhaps that's the reason Honey can’t move on since she didn't reject him properly? Or harsh enough.

"Y-yeah." That all I managed to say upon seeing my pretend husband.

He is a VERY tall man. And huge too. Not like fat-huge but huge-huge. Captain America huge. Superman huge. Wolverine huge. Okay I think you get what I mean. But his smiley face radiates friendliness despite his figure being the total opposite.

"I'm gonna grab my phone then we can go?" He walks towards me, still maintaining the smile on his face that seems to grow wider as he comes nearer.

My palms start to sweat as my heart beats faster, oh shit. I'm nervous. I'm sorry Drey, I really am trying to calm down but he's fucking gorgeous. And he smells good too.

Just like that his lips touch the left side of my head, but removes it instantly as fast as he attacked me with that impromptu kiss.

"Gonna get that phone now," he says softly with his lips less than an inch away from the spot he attached it to.

I remain immobile, still dumbfounded when he strides to the stairs in his pressed black suit as his smell still lingers in the air I'm breathing.

Uhh what just happened..? Did he just kissed my hair? I mean, uhh, head? What?