I'M YOURS, Mr. CEO!

One afternoon in Mr. Ganendra’s family living room, Menteng area, Central Jakarta.

The orange sky blossomed beyond the large windows of the living room. The cool air from the AC blended with the fragrance of jasmine tea, filling the classic room layered with teak wood. On the table, the family’s favorite snacks were served, including fried pastel, pandan steamed cake, and slices of sweet watermelon.

In the middle of the room, Sebastian Ronaldo sat leaning against an old brown leather sofa. His suit had been removed; he was only wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

Sebastian let out a sigh as he sipped tea from a porcelain cup. In front of him, Mr. Ganendra, a middle aged man with neatly graying hair and gold rimmed glasses, sat calmly, occasionally flipping through a business newspaper. Beside him, Mrs. Rasmi, an elegant and beautiful woman, busily arranged the pastels onto a plate while occasionally glancing at her son.

Mrs. Rasmi then said,

“Sebastian, my Son, you keep working all the time. When will you have time for your own life?”

Sebastian gave a tired smile. It was not the first time that question had come from either his mother or father.

Sebastian then replied,

“Mom, I’m very busy. Every day I’m at the office, attending meetings and doing many business presentations.”

Mr. Ganendra put down the newspaper.

“That’s not a life, Bas. That’s a routine. How old are you now?”

Sebastian sighed.

“I’ll be thirty next month, Dad.”

Mrs. Rasmi, in a dramatic tone, spoke again,

“Well, that’s the point! You’re almost thirty, My Son! When I was your age, you were already two years old. Your father was already a dad!”

Sebastian could only lower his head, staring at the untouched pastel.

“I know. But Mom, Dad, I haven’t found the right woman. There’s no one who really connects with me, let alone someone who can handle my lifestyle,” he said.

Mr. Ganendra spoke up,

“That’s why your mother and I will help you.”

Sebastian immediately turned to his father.

“How will you help, Dad?”

Mrs. Rasmi smiled meaningfully.

“We have an acquaintance, the daughter of your father’s colleague. Her name is Diandra Areta. She graduated from overseas, well mannered, from a good family. Her age is just right, twenty five. And she’s beautiful too.”

Sebastian frowned immediately.

“Mom, don’t tell me this is an arranged marriage.”

Mr. Ganendra, calm yet firm, replied,

“Sebastian, this isn’t about forcing you. Your mother and I won’t force you. But we’re giving you an opportunity. Diandra is Mr. Pratama’s daughter, your father’s business colleague. You know his reputation. If you’re compatible, then continue. If not, that’s fine. But, please at least try.”

Sebastian responded,

“I’m not against marriage, Dad. But being set up like this isn’t the solution.”

Mrs. Rasmi gently interrupted,

“But you’re not trying to find someone yourself either.”

Sebastian fell silent. That was true. His life was almost entirely devoted to SR Corp. He woke up before sunrise and returned home when even the stars were too tired to shine. He had many friends, but all of them were business associates. Personal relationships? A big zero.

Sebastian spoke softly,

“I’m afraid of failing, Mom. I’m too busy. What if that woman ends up getting hurt because I don’t have much time for her?”

Mr. Ganendra looked deeply at his son.

“Sebastian, you’re too hard on yourself. No human is perfect. But marriage isn’t about having free time; it’s about commitment.”

Mrs. Rasmi added,

“We’re not pressuring you, my son. Your father and I just want to see you happy. To have someone by your side. We also want to hold our grandchildren before all our hair turns completely gray.”

The atmosphere fell silent for a moment. Sebastian leaned his head back against the sofa, staring at the ceiling.

He then spoke quietly,

“Do I really look that lonely?”

Mrs. Rasmi smiled wistfully.

“Not exactly, Bas. We just want what’s best for you.”

Mr. Ganendra continued,

“You’re not the only one carrying the burden as a CEO, Bas. I was once young too. I used to think career was everything. But time goes on. When you were born, I realized that a home is not just a building, but about who is waiting for us inside it.”

Sebastian lowered his head. His father’s words touched his heart.

“When do I have to meet this girl?”

Mrs. Rasmi answered enthusiastically,

“This weekend, dinner at your father’s colleague’s house. It won’t be a formal meeting. You two can talk privately, while the parents just greet each other. How about it?”

Sebastian paused, weighing his thoughts. His heart resisted, but his logic agreed. He was nearly thirty, and none of his relationships had lasted more than three months. Maybe it was time to try a different path.

Sebastian nodded slowly.

“Alright. But I’m not promising anything.”

Mr. Ganendra smiled with satisfaction.

“That’s enough.”

Mrs. Rasmi gently held her son’s hand.

“Thank you, my son. Who knows, this might be the beginning of something beautiful for you.”

Sebastian smiled faintly.

“Or the beginning of a diplomatic disaster.”

“Ha-ha-ha.”

Everyone laughed.

The tension melted, although uneasiness still lingered in Sebastian’s heart. But one thing was certain, that night, he realized life was not only about stocks, mergers, and board meetings. There was a space in his heart that had long been empty, and perhaps this arranged meeting would fill it.

Evening at the Pratama family residence, an elite area in Pondok Indah, South Jakarta.

The evening breeze gently swayed the white linen curtains in the spacious living room. Cream colored walls combined with modern batik paintings decorated the neat and classy interior. Diandra Areta sat cross legged on a soft salmon colored sofa, still wearing a white blouse and jeans. Her long hair flowed naturally, but her face looked restless. She hugged a small pillow, her gaze fixed sharply on her parents sitting in front of her.

“So what does this mean, Dad?” Diandra asked with confusion.

Mr. Pratama replied calmly but firmly,

“We’ve decided. The Ganendra family will come to our house this weekend for a visit and introduction.”

Diandra raised her voice,

“An introduction? A visit? Is this an arranged marriage, Dad? I just got back from the Netherlands a week ago!”

Mrs. Sekar smiled gently,

“That’s exactly why, dear. This is the right time. You’re already twenty five, Diandra. An age mature enough to build a household.”

Diandra stood up in panic.

“Mature? I just finished my master’s degree, Mom! I don’t even have a job or any experience yet. I’m not ready to get married!”

Mr. Pratama crossed his arms.

“Do you think marriage waits until you’re ready? Readiness doesn’t come from time, but from a decision.”

Diandra frowned, looking at her mother pleadingly.

“Mom, please. You understand me, right? I’ve never even met this man. I just heard his name today.”

Mrs. Sekar said gently but firmly,

“His name is Sebastian Ronaldo. A young CEO, well mannered, from a respectable family. Your father and I know his family well. You’ll surely be a good match.”

Diandra’s voice trembled.

“A good match? How do you know? I haven’t even seen his face.”

Mr. Pratama spoke flatly but with pressure,

“You will meet him this weekend. There is no further discussion. You are our daughter, Diandra. You’ve had enough freedom while in Europe. Now it’s time to return to your family.”

Diandra grew angry.

“Freedom? I went to the Netherlands to study, Dad! I didn’t waste my time having fun!”

“We know you’re smart, dear. But intelligence also needs direction. We just want you to have a stable future. You’re a woman. The world isn’t always kind to independent women,” her mother added.

Diandra was stunned, tears beginning to well up.

“So this is all about control? I have to submit for the sake of family stability?”

Mr. Pratama responded sharply,

“This is about family honor, Diandra. You’re our only child. I won’t let you wander aimlessly. If you still consider us your parents, you will accept this introduction.”

The atmosphere grew tense. Diandra walked quickly toward the window, looking at the yard that was growing dim. Her voice softened.

“While I was in the Netherlands, I was always proud to say my parents were modern and open-minded. But now you sound like parents from the old Siti Nurbaya era!”

Mrs. Sekar slowly stood up, approached her, and held her shoulders.

“This is not about old or modern times, dear. This is about love born from a parent’s blessing. We only want what’s best for you.”

Diandra turned to her mother, disappointed.

“But if I feel this isn’t what’s best for me, why can’t you listen?”

Mr. Pratama stood firmly, his voice still resolute.

“Because we know you are still too young to understand what you truly need in life. And I don’t want any more arguments. This weekend, you must be home. That’s final.”

Diandra tried to hold back her tears.

“And if I’m not?”

Mr. Pratama looked at his only daughter coldly.

“Then from that moment on, all your expenses will be cut off. Your car, all the cards you use under your name will be blocked. The choice is yours, Diandra.”

Silence lingered for a long time. Diandra felt her stomach twist, as if the world she had just begun to build had collapsed. She looked at her mother once more, hoping for a final chance.

“Mom, if I say I can’t do this, will you still push me?”

Mrs. Sekar looked at her gently but with conviction.

“Sometimes what we think we cannot go through is exactly what brings us happiness later. I know this is hard for you. But just try. No one is asking you to get married next week.”

Diandra cried softly.

“But this isn’t the life I planned. This isn’t my dream, Mom.”

Mrs. Sekar hugged Diandra tightly, while Mr. Pratama remained silent, returning to his seat and opening his laptop as if the matter was settled. Diandra knew there would be no negotiation. Everything had been decided by her father.

That night, in Diandra’s room,

The room was dimly lit. Diandra sat by the window, her laptop displaying photos from her college days in the Netherlands. Her laughter was bright, her face full of dreams. But now, that face was overshadowed by doubt and disappointment.