Saturday Morning — The Baxter Household
Artemis stirred beneath the blanket as morning sunlight slipped through the curtains of Patra's bedroom. When her gaze drifted downward, she found Patra still curled up on the pull-out mattress beneath the bed, wrapped in a Snoopy blanket far thinner than hers.
The girl—one year younger—lifted the thick blue-striped fabric and tucked it tighter around her stepbrother who was… shivering.
Artemis frowned when she noticed beads of sweat forming along Patra's temples and the tip of his nose. Instinctively, her hand pressed against his neck. His skin wasn't warm—just cold. The sound of Patra's teeth chattering made her immediately grab the AC remote.
Strange. The temperature still read twenty-four degrees.
"Pat! Patra! Hey!" Artemis panicked, shaking his shoulders like a possessed person.
The almost-twenty-three-year-old jolted awake from whatever half-dream he was trapped in.
Patra's heart-shaped face looked sunken, miserable. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes, the whites reddened like someone who hadn't slept at all. Artemis asked if he'd stayed up late terrorizing Birgit's friends again.
Patra shook his head slowly, pulling back the two layers of blankets covering half his body.
Artemis followed his gaze—down there.
Her step-sister, still kneeling in front of him, gave an awkward smile and stood up, ready to crawl back onto the bed—until Patra's voice stopped her.
"What time did Polo get home?" Patra asked.
Artemis stared at him, confused.
"I went to sleep first, remember? You said it was fine as long as I locked the door," she replied defensively.
Her eyes followed Patra as he stood and walked toward the door. His steps were… off. Still, Artemis watched as his hand reached for the doorknob and pulled hard.
Locked. She'd done exactly what he asked last night, but Patra's mind kept spiraling—directionless, unhinged—driving him insane with impossible scenarios. His hips and anal area throbbed with soreness.
There was no way Artemis had done anything to him. She was way too *bent* for that—too far from hetero desire. Charlie and Charissa? His new dad and mom were hopelessly in love. They didn't even care if Patra and Apollo stayed out or slept over.
That left one possibility.
Apollo. But why? The thought screamed inside the head of Charlie Baxter's only son.
"Patra," Artemis called, snapping him out of the ugly ideas he'd built around Apollo. "You gonna keep standing there? I'm showering in fifteen."
Patra left the door and headed to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth.
Artemis stayed behind, unsettled by his expression—and that question.
Around Apollo, Patra was always gentle. Caring. Just like Charissa. But moments ago, he'd shown another side of himself—one that seemed… uncomfortable with Apollo's presence.
*Should I ask Polo to go back to Grandma's place?* Artemis thought.
Not a bad plan. Actually—brilliant.
Luca and Robert's attention would shift to Apollo. Not her.
"What time's your interview, Art?" Patra asked, returning with a small white towel pressed to his sharp jaw.
Artemis lifted all ten fingers and silently mouthed, Morning.
Patra glanced at the wall clock—the short hand already pointing to nine.
"Hurry up. I'll make breakfast downstairs," he said.
Artemis answered with a lazy groan.
Applying for a contract job while finishing her thesis conclusion felt like walking on clouds. Artemis couldn't tell whether she was excited, sad about leaving behind the weirdos in her class, or angry that her ex-crush now worked for a cigarette company—a business that never stopped being a moral dilemma in Indonesia.
Call her stupid for swiping right on Birgit—and matching—just because that butch woman shared a name with her friend.
Could Artemis even still call Brigitta her friend?
To this day, Artemis struggled to regret choosing to hang out with the kids who once bullied her—after her sexual orientation spread like gossip wildfire. She enjoyed watching the same people who once cornered her now beg for her presence.
Even if it meant she no longer got to share a room, movies, and late-night cartoons with Brigitta.
The storm of anxiety and curiosity inside Artemis's head evaporated when she checked her phone.
9:07 a.m.
Patra's voice echoed loudly from downstairs, yelling that she'd be late if he had to drive her.
Artemis shouted back that she only needed a ride to Dukuh Atas MRT—while her mind still circled the fact that exposing Birgit's sexuality hadn't brought Brigitta back to her.
She snatched her phone from Patra's study desk and stepped into the bathroom, blasting the song One Week of Danger by The Virgins.
It felt good—laughing at Birgit, choking on the very advice she'd smugly given Artemis, Don't trust people too easily.
Funny how Artemis used it to strike back at that toxic butch.
Bundaran HI MRT — 9:30 a.m.
After swallowing her embarrassment as Patra kept repeating 'be careful' and 'don't forget to eat your lunch' at the entrance of Dukuh Atas station, Artemis finally felt calm again once the cold air hit her face—and the long hair Patra had half-tied for her.
Her stepbrother really was different from the only children she'd met. Most of them were indifferent to their families, desperate for attention elsewhere. If only they showed a little understanding, they wouldn't have to beg for warmth outside.
Artemis's chest ached as her mind plotted another quiet, online revenge against Birgit—ghosting her the same way she'd been ghosted.
But Patra's absent-minded face and gentle concern dulled her darker impulses. Speaking of work…. Her heart raced with excitement at the thought of explaining her ambition—writing about psychology and personality traits people loved to discuss these days, across all ages.
She was applying as a full-time copywriter for a matchmaking consulting and coaching company.
Artemis noticed a woman on the MRT opening her laptop, one hand answering a call while her eyes stayed glued to the screen. Forget emotional romance—even jobs taken out of desperation still haunted Artemis's thoughts.
Working at an art gallery meant weekends on duty. Stress relief spots always crowded on Saturdays and Sundays.
But after letting her only real skill be belittled by a high school girl—who somehow held a senior position there—Artemis knew she didn't need to fight for experience in the same place.
I'm sorry for pressuring you to use your first paycheck to cover Mom and Dad's personal needs. Apollo's words after Artemis was officially let go from her first full-time job.
She'd wanted to reply,You didn't even give them money until your third paycheck, but stopped herself. Apollo—the justice-obsessed Libra with a stubborn streak—would never accept her defense. Instead, Artemis had said, I really should work in a field I actually like.
---
"Zodiac…? MBTI…? Ugh!" Artemis groaned inside the restroom.
Forty minutes of confidently explaining her copywriting experience—from campus projects to nonprofit work. Then came the final question, from the company's owner and matchmaker.
"What makes you feel suited for this job?"
"I've been understanding myself through zodiac signs since I was little—so articles and social media content can make people feel like they're not alone—" Artemis faltered, surprised she was repeating her own words.
The last question clearly tested her niche and marketing ability. For a company rooted in psychological services, she tried to show genuine care.
"Zodiac, MBTI," she laughed awkwardly.
She rinsed her face, checking the time.
11:30 a.m.
Maybe sushi would restore her optimism. Hunger propelled her steps—fast, eager—even as she rounded the wall dividing the women's and men's restrooms.
And then—collision. Another woman. Just as rushed. One hand clutching a red marker.
The only thing that snapped Artemis back was the marker streaking across the fabric of her knitted vest—right shoulder.
The magma of anger instantly cooled when she saw the woman's face.
Beautiful. Even with her brows and nose scrunched, eyes narrowed, holding back tears.
"It's okay," Artemis said gently. "I'm done with my interview anyway. I've got no business here anymore."
She stopped the woman's frantic rummaging for tissues.
Trying not to stare, Artemis pulled a pack of wet wipes from her sling bag.
"I got this covered," she whispered, offering her sweetest smile.
Hoping the woman felt calmer—even after ruining her vest.
When Artemis reached the lobby, she glanced back toward the corridor leading to the restroom.
"Feels like I've seen her before," she murmured before stepping outside.
Crossing the zebra crossing toward the mall for lunch, her phone buzzed in her pocket.
A name she'd buried along with all the memories of helping someone come to terms with their sexuality.
Strangely, the bitter reality she'd faced at nineteen hadn't driven her to study psychology.
The call stopped.
A message followed.
from: Serial Dater Lacy
Gonna see you next week^^ Tashi has her own plan tho