My Handsome Uncle, please be mine!

Part 1

Joe Sebastian, a 35-year-old man, was feeling sad because of his wife's recent divorce petition in religious court. He continued to consume the alcoholic drinks in front of him.

One by one, the alcohol bottles became empty, but Joe still felt the emptiness in his heart. In an apartment unit, Joe isolated himself for two days, not going to work, not seeing his daughter, and even forgetting to send money to Clara.

Yes, Clara was a poor girl entrusted to Joe by her parents ten years ago. At that time, Joe was a colleague of Devano and Cella. Clara's parents had died in a multi-car accident. Since then, Joe felt responsible for Clara. For ten years, Joe had taken care of Clara, providing her education, pocket money, and buying her clothes. Not only that, Joe had promised himself to continue taking care of Clara until she married a man of her choice.

The doorbell rang.

Joe remained motionless.

The doorbell rang for the second time.

Joe had to get up from his seat. He walked wearily toward the door, feeling annoyed about who could be disturbing him.

"Who dares to disturb me?" Joe shouted as he pulled the door handle.

Clara fell silent, startled. This was the first time she had been scolded by Joe, someone she highly respected.

"I...I'm sorry, Uncle," Clara whispered, taking a step back.

"Oh, it's you. Come in!" Joe said, trying to control his emotions.

"No, Uncle, I can come back later or tomorrow," Clara said shakily, not expecting to receive such a scary shout from the authoritative man.

"Come in, don't argue. It's the beginning of the month, and you need to get your pocket money; otherwise, you'll go hungry during lunchtime!" Joe said flatly. He roughly rubbed his face, trying to refresh his vision.

Joe opened the door wide for Clara to enter.

Clara followed, walking slowly, tracking Joe's every step. She glanced around the room; it was still 2 p.m., but the curtains were closed. The room's lights were turned off, creating a gloomy atmosphere. Only a small amount of sunlight filtered through the slightly open curtains.

"Uncle, are you okay?" Clara asked softly, glancing at her wrist to confirm that it was still 2 p.m.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" Joe replied with his characteristic deep voice.

"Let me stay longer here; I'll clean up this place. After that, I'll leave," Clara said. She walked to the curtains, opening them one by one to allow more light to enter the room. She also opened the ventilation to reduce the stuffiness.

Joe took a quick look and saw no reason to object. He let Clara open all the curtains, revealing the messy and dirty state of the table in the middle of the room.

Joe went into the bedroom to find his wallet, took out some money, and put it in an envelope, the same amount as Clara's monthly allowance. Then, he returned to the living room.

"This is your pocket money," Joe said, placing the brown envelope on the table. Then, he reclined on the sofa.

Clara glanced at the cluttered table. There were several empty alcohol bottles scattered around, dirty and disordered glasses, many cigarette butts, and scattered matchsticks.

Clara swallowed her saliva and shook her head softly. She decided to clean the table.

"You can go home; I can handle it myself," Joe said firmly.

"No, Uncle, I'll leave after cleaning everything," Clara insisted. She started putting the empty bottles into the trash can and took the dirty glasses to the nearby kitchen.

Joe got up from his seat, supporting his face with both hands.

"My marriage is about to end, my dear Vivian! Why did you choose your career and Kimmy Olivia, our little daughter, over me?" Joe murmured, and tears began to moisten his cheeks. The impending divorce was a heavy burden for Joe, who still loved his wife deeply.

Meanwhile, Clara had finished washing all the glasses and had tidied up the table.

"Thank you, Uncle," she said while taking the envelope with her money. She saw the mature man sitting with his head hung low on the sofa.

Joe just nodded, his face showing no signs of relief.

"Wait a minute, is Uncle Joe crying?" Clara asked, walking over to Joe.

Joe didn't answer; he chose to look away. He felt weak in front of Clara, something he had always avoided.

"So, is what I read in the online media true?" Clara asked, sitting next to Joe. She didn't want to leave him alone.

"What do you know?" Joe stood up from his seat and walked to the balcony.

Clara followed, matching the steps of the mature man she admired so much. Even when he was just standing and breathing, Joe looked handsome.

"Aunt Vivian's divorce has been reported in the media, Uncle," Clara said, standing next to him and looking down, following Joe's gaze.

"So, you already know, Clara,"

"Yes, Uncle, I hope you won't be too sad,"

"I'm not sad; it's just that I still love Vivian very much," Joe lamented honestly.

"Stay strong, Uncle," Clara consoled him.

Hearing Joe's lament, Clara felt sad as well. Even though she had felt relieved when she heard about the divorce, she realized that this was her chance to get closer to Joe.

"I'm going to see my daughter. You should go back to the dorm now," Joe instructed.

"Alright, Uncle," Clara complied, turning and leaving the room. She was looking forward to her monthly meetings with Joe, even though they only happened once a month.

"Uncle, don't be sad. If Aunt Vivian doesn't want to live with you until old age, maybe one day you'll meet another woman who loves you sincerely," Clara said firmly.

"I am that woman, Uncle. I love you sincerely. Wait for me, Uncle; I will grow up and become a beautiful woman for you. There's no doubt; I also have genuine love for you," Clara thought to herself as she walked out of the room. At some point, she didn't know when, but at the age of 17, she realized one thing: she missed her meetings with Joe Sebastian, even though they only happened once a month.

To be continued

Part 2

After Clara's departure, Joe took a moment to shower. Cold water always managed to reinvigorate him. He put on his best clothes and prepared to return home to his little daughter, Kimmy.

From his marriage to Vivian four years ago, they had been blessed with a daughter. Kimmy, the little girl who was now three and a half years old.

Joe walked toward the elevator, pressed the ground floor button, and waited for the elevator to reach the lobby. When the elevator doors opened, he walked into the underground parking area and got into his black Lamborghini. He drove to South Residence, a luxurious housing complex owned by the upper-middle class, where his parents' wealthy family resided.

Joe drove his car at full speed, his parents would be furious about the divorce lawsuit that had been spreading in various media. However, the truth was, and as the man, Joe was ready to take responsibility for it all.

Navigating a marriage was like sailing a ship. If the ship sank, the captain was to blame. Joe didn't want to blame Vivian; it was all his fault.

After 20 minutes of driving, Joe arrived at the main entrance of his parents' residence. He parked his car in the garage, alongside other luxurious vehicles.

He stepped out of the car and walked to the front porch, hesitating to ring the doorbell. In reality, when Joe's car reached the main gate, the security guard had already informed his parents, Mr. Bond and Mrs. Linn, that their son had returned.

Joe let out a slow breath and pressed the doorbell. A female servant opened the door for him.

His hunch was right, his mom and dad were sitting in the living room, their faces showing curiosity and concern. Joe could sense their sadness regarding the news of his divorce with Vivian, which had already spread.

Joe approached his parents and sat next to his mother. The room fell silent. Mr. Bond looked at his son, while Joe couldn't bring himself to return their gazes.

"Rest! Meet your daughter, and we can discuss this issue another time," Mr. Bond said.

The middle-aged man was angry, sad, frustrated, and disappointed to hear about his son's divorce. But there was something more important; Joe still looked okay. He would do whatever it took to support and uplift his son's spirits.

"She's been waiting for you; Kimmy has asked several times where her daddy is since last night," Mrs. Linn added. She gently patted her son's shoulder, seeing that his eyes were moist and teary.

"Alright, Mom, Dad, I'm going to sleep now," Joe said. He got up from his chair, walked up the stairs to the second floor, and opened the door to the room nearest to the stairs. It was Kimmy's room, and she was a three-and-a-half-year-old girl.

"Papa!" Kimmy shouted when she saw her daddy standing at the doorway. She opened her arms wide for a hug.

Joe quickly approached his daughter and embraced her tightly. The hug was emotional and long, prompting Kimmy's caretaker to leave the room.

Joe finally let go of the hug and cupped Kimmy's face with his hands. Unmistakably, Kimmy bore a striking resemblance to Vivian, her mother.

"Where's Papa been?" Kimmy asked in her soft voice.

"Papa's been working, my love," he replied. Joe led his daughter to her bed, where he tucked her in. Tonight, he just wanted to be by Kimmy's side to comfort her.

Joe adjusted the blanket to keep Kimmy warm. He kissed her forehead several times, feeling guilty for not being able to keep his family together with Vivian.

After making sure Kimmy had fallen asleep, Joe left her room. He walked to the room next to Kimmy's.

Joe inserted the key, turned the doorknob, and entered the room. It was his and Vivian's bedroom. It was spacious and warm, with several photos of them together on the wall, prominently featuring their large wedding photo above the bed.

In four months, it would have been their 5th wedding anniversary. All the photos and beautiful memories inside only represented the past. So did the romance that had once blossomed in this room. The first night, the warmth of their touches, their smiles, their tears, and all the events in this room would now just make Joe sad, knowing they were all memories.

Joe sat at the edge of the bed. His hands ran over the bedsheet. It was cold and lonely. There were several photos of him and Vivian on the wall, with the most prominent being their large wedding photo above the bed.

His marriage to Vivian began to unravel after their fourth wedding anniversary. Vivian became obsessed with resuming her modeling career. Since then, she was no longer content at home and kept accepting job offers.

Joe had tried various ways to keep her from leaving him. He increased the money he gave her, surprised her frequently, but all in vain. Vivian wanted to break free from her marriage to Joe.

All of it had been his fault from the beginning. Joe had put Vivian on a pedestal when she was a rising model. However, Vivian had accepted Joe's proposal not out of love but because Joe was the son of one of the wealthiest people in the city.

Joe looked up at the wedding photo. Tears began to flow down his cheeks. On this quiet and cold night, he was crying alone. He had missed Vivian for three months, hoping his beloved wife would come home and give up her dreams and career. But he was wrong; what he received was a divorce lawsuit.

In this moment, he realized one thing. For Vivian, her dreams and career were more important than her marriage and her daughter. Tears continued to flow, moistening Joe's cheeks. When a man cried, his tears revealed the honesty behind the sadness that ran deep.

Joe wiped away his tears. He concluded his sorrow for the night. He would return to his daughter's room, curl up under the covers. It wasn't that he was weak; he just had never imagined he would divorce the woman he loved so much.

To be continued.

Part 3

After returning from Uncle Joe's apartment, Clara ordered an online motorcycle taxi to take her to the dormitory. Throughout the ride, she couldn't muster any enthusiasm. She was torn between feeling sad and happy about what had befallen Uncle Joe.

On one hand, she was happy, but on the other, Clara couldn't help but cry for Uncle Joe's sadness.

Once she got off the motorcycle taxi, Clara paid the fare and made her way slowly to her dorm room on the third floor.

The time on the clock showed it was 4:00 PM. All the school activities had ended, and the resident students were in their rooms, preparing for dinner and evening study.

Clara climbed the stairs, one step at a time, reaching the end where her room was. The door was open, revealing a room with six beds. There were both upper and lower bunks, making it a total of 12 girls sharing the room.

Clara was closest to Nadia. Nadia slept in the upper bunk while Clara was in the lower one.

Both of them were intelligent students, but Nadia was luckier because she had both of her parents, whereas Clara was alone, except for Uncle Joe.

"What happened? Did you not meet Uncle Joe? Or did he reject your love?" Nadia asked. Clara's expression was different than usual. She used to be cheerful and enthusiastic when talking about Uncle Joe. Her eyes would light up as she recounted how handsome he was and what they had talked about. But now, Clara looked unusually downcast.

Could it be that she didn't meet Uncle Joe, or did he get angry with her?

Nadia could only guess and waited for Clara's response. However, Clara didn't answer. She swiftly grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom located on the ground floor. Living in the dormitory was exhausting, as all activities like meals and showers were located on the ground floor while their rooms were on the third floor, making Clara have to go up and down more than five times a day.

Arriving at the bathroom, Clara began to undress, one piece at a time. She started to wet her body with cold water, closing her eyes and feeling the sensation of every water molecule passing through her pores. The refreshing cold water didn't manage to reinvigorate her this time.

Clara felt the need to do something to help Uncle Joe, to bring happiness back into his life and put a smile on his handsome face.

An idea crossed Clara's mind. Tomorrow, she wanted to find and meet Vivian to talk to her, to do something to help Uncle Joe.

After some time, Clara started to lather soap on her body, cleaning off germs and sweat. The fragrant aroma of the jasmine soap couldn't lift her mood, which had already turned sour.

If you were to ask how Joe influenced Clara's life and mood, the answer was that he had a significant impact. When Joe was sad, Clara would cry with him. But when Joe was happy, Clara would be in sync with his happiness. She'd smile when he did, even though Joe's smiles weren't meant for her.

Clara turned on the showerhead, letting the soapy foam wash over her body. Even though she managed to regain a little bit of energy and enthusiasm, she was sure that she would go looking for Vivian the next day and do something to help Joe.

The next morning, along with the other students, Clara and Nadia walked down the hallway towards their classroom. Their steps were in sync, supporting each other.

"I'm going to ask for permission this afternoon. I can't attend the last class because I have something to do," Clara said. It was rare for her to ask for permission to skip any class, no matter the subject, or even when she was sick. She didn't have any family members pushing her to attend.

"Where are you going?" Nadia asked. The last class was the Indonesian language, which was Clara's favorite.

"I'm going to look for Aunt Vivian. There's something I want to discuss," Clara said confidently. A smile formed on her lips as she felt that her idea was a good one.

"Clara, please understand. Don't get too involved in Uncle Joe's life; he has his privacy, and you shouldn't interfere. You're overstepping boundaries by getting involved," Nadia disagreed.

"Quiet! I can find Vivian on my own, with or without your help," Clara asserted. She then quickened her pace, not wanting to debate with Nadia any longer.

Throughout the morning, from the first class to the fifth, Clara and Nadia remained silent, and neither gave in to apologize first.

When it was time for the last class to change, Clara was packing her writing materials, and getting ready to stand up. She had her bag slung over her left arm.

Nadia, without warning, was already walking alongside her. "I'll treat you to lobster bakso. Let's ask for permission together," she said, not wanting Clara to go alone.

Clara smiled; Nadia was always so kind. Finally, the two of them asked for permission and ordered an online motorcycle taxi to an outdoor photoshoot location.

Clara had done her homework. She knew Vivian's work schedule for today, and it happened to be close to their school.

Upon getting out of the motorcycle taxi, Nadia followed Clara. They sneaked into a hotel building, where Clara had gathered information about Vivian's manager, and agency, and even located the makeup room for today's event.

"Wait here; I'll go inside alone," Clara told Nadia. She didn't want Nadia to witness her daring move.

"Okay," Nadia replied, following Clara's lead and waiting patiently.

Identifying herself as Vivian's niece, Clara was granted access to the makeup room of the renowned model. There, she met Vivian, a stunning, elegant, and flawless woman like no other. For a moment, Clara's aura dimmed as she trembled. She forgot her purpose and why she had come to see Vivian.

"Excuse me," Clara said, and Vivian turned around, looking at Clara with curiosity.

Their eyes locked for a moment.

"Hello, Aunt Vivian, let me introduce myself. My name is Clara. The reason I came here is that I disagree with you filing for divorce from your husband," Clara said, her voice trembling and her breath unsteady.

Vivian looked puzzled and asked, "Why? What is your reason for not wanting me to get a divorce?"

Clara faltered, her lips quivering. The strong presence of the woman before her shook her confidence, making her second-guess her purpose.

"Speak! Why do you oppose my divorce?" Vivian insisted, fixing her gaze sharply on Clara.

"I...I don't want to see Uncle Joe sad," Clara finally managed to say, stammering out the real reason due to her fear.

"Come, sit here, and don't leave until I allow you to," Vivian ordered.

She immediately picked up her phone and dialed Joe's number, which she had stored in her phone.

"You coward! You sent a little rat to beg for my love! Come here, or I won't let her out in one piece!" Vivian yelled on the other side of the phone, her voice stern.

Clara stood still, her trembling lips quivering. The powerful presence of the woman in front of her made her shrink, taking away all her determination and self-confidence.

"Speak! What is your reason for opposing my divorce?" Vivian demanded, intensifying her gaze.

"Um... um...," that was all that came out of Clara's lips.

"Speak!" Vivian insisted forcefully.

"I... I don't want to see Uncle Joe sad," Clara stammered, finally uttering the real reason, albeit with hesitation due to her fear.

"Come, sit here, and don't leave until I allow you to," Vivian commanded.

She promptly reached for her phone, dialing Joe's number still stored in her phone.

"You coward! Sending a little mouse to beg for my love! Come here, or I won't let her leave in one piece!" Vivian berated over the phone.

Clara winced; she was sure the person on the other end of the call was Joe.

To be Continued.