The twilight in Sukamaju Village always brought serenity to others, but not to Amara. The nineteen-year-old girl sat kneeling on a dilapidated wooden couch. Her hands clutched at the hem of her baju kurung, which felt increasingly tight across her chest. There was a throbbing pain, as if something were pressing to get out of her body.

For the past month, Amara's body had been undergoing strange changes. Although she was still pure and had never been touched by any man, the glands in her chest continued to produce the liquid of life. Every morning, she had to secretly change the covering on her chest, which was soaked through. She felt like an anomaly, a medical secret she kept closely guarded for fear of being considered strange by the villagers.

However, the physical pain was nothing compared to the heartache she felt seeing her mother, Sumiyati, crying in the kitchen. The debts left behind by her late father had piled up, and the debt collectors were beginning to arrive with harsh threats. Amara watched her two younger siblings, Sekar and Bimo, sharing a single plate of corn rice without any side dishes. Amara's heart shattered into pieces at the sight.

"Mother, I will leave for Jakarta tomorrow," she said, her voice trembling but firm. She knew that her innocent beauty and lush body might be a burden in the village, but in the big city, she hoped it could be a way to earn a decent living.

The journey to the capital felt like a long nightmare. Amara sat inside the crowded economy bus, clutching her backpack tightly. All the way, she could only look out the window, watching green rice fields turn into rows of factories, and finally into arrogant skyscrapers. Jakarta greeted her with stifling heat and noise.

Arriving at a magnificent mansion in an elite area, Amara felt very small. The building was so large, it seemed as if it could swallow her whole. There she met Arlan Aditama, a man who had everything except happiness. Arlan was a cold figure, with eyes as hard as steel and a heart that had turned to stone since his wife left him for another man.

In that luxurious house, the atmosphere was chilling. The cries of a three-month-old baby, Kenzo, echoed in every corner of the corridor. The unfortunate baby was a victim of his own mother's betrayal. Kenzo refused all the formula milk offered. He longed for genuine human warmth, not the sterile and cold plastic of a bottle. Arlan, frustrated to see his son suffering, was almost losing his mind.

When Amara first stepped into the nursery, something strange happened. Amara's chest throbbed intensely. The baby's distinctive scent triggered an extraordinary hormonal reaction in her body. Amara felt her breasts become tight and heavy, as if her body recognized the baby's needs. A primitive connection suddenly formed between the virgin girl from the village and the baby who craved a mother's affection.

Amara knew she was on the verge of a dangerous decision. If she gave what she had to Kenzo, she might save the baby's life, but she would also be entangled in a complicated relationship with Arlan. Arlan, full of wounds, Arlan, full of anger, and Arlan who now looked at her with suspicion but also with an attraction he didn't realize.

The passion that would grow in this mansion was not just about the touch of skin, but about the meeting of two different poles. Amara was life flowing clearly, while Arlan was a dark emptiness. In the midst of silent luxury, the secret of the sweet liquid flowing from Amara's body would become both a bridge and a chasm between them.

Now, Amara stood in front of the nursery door, ready to face her destiny. She had not only come to be a nanny who changed diapers or rocked the cradle. She came as a source of life. She came to quench Kenzo's thirst, and without realizing it, she would also quench the emptiness in the heart of the host who had been numb for so long.

This prologue is the beginning of a long journey. A story about a child's devotion to her family in the village, which drags her into a whirlwind of passion in the capital. Under the crystal lights of the Aditama mansion, the first drop would soon fall, changing the lives of Amara, Kenzo, and Arlan forever. And that passionate journey, had only just begun.

The dawn air in Sukamaju Village still felt bone-chilling, but Amara was already busy in their small bamboo-walled kitchen. While enduring the tightness that was beginning to attack her chest—a constricting sensation that now greeted her every morning—she wrapped corn rice and anchovy sambal in banana leaves.

"Dear, are you really going now?"

Amara turned. Her mother, Sumiyati, stood in the kitchen doorway with swollen eyes. Behind her, Amara's two younger siblings, Sekar, who was seven years old, and Bimo, who was still five, rubbed their eyes, having just woken up.

Amara forced a smile, even though her heart felt like it was being squeezed. "Mom, if Amara doesn't go to Jakarta, what about Sekar and Bimo's school fees? Our debt to the loan shark also needs to be paid off quickly."

"But Jakarta is far away, Mara. You just graduated from school. I feel like a failure as a parent if I have to let you become a maid there," Sumiyati sobbed, stroking her daughter's shoulders, who seemed strong but was actually fragile.

"Mara is going away?" Bimo ran over and hugged Amara's legs. "Sister, don't go... who will accompany Bimo to find grasshoppers?"

Amara knelt, lowering herself to her younger brother's height. She caressed Bimo's round cheeks. "Bimo is a smart boy, right? Sister is going away for a little while to earn money so Bimo can buy a new bag and delicious milk. When I come home, I will bring a big toy."

"Really, Mara?" Bimo asked, his eyes sparkling. Amara nodded firmly, even though her throat felt constricted.

Sekar, who was more mature than her age, just stood silently. She approached and whispered something. "Sister... is your shirt wet again?"

Amara was startled. She immediately pulled her shawl to cover her chest. The seepage had appeared again. "Shhh... it's okay, Sekar. I am just... a little sweaty."

"It's not sweat, Sister. It smells sweet," Sekar whispered innocently.

Amara immediately hugged both of her younger siblings tightly, hiding her face so they wouldn't see her tears falling. Only she knew the strange medical secret she was experiencing. She had read something about it in the school library's health book—something about excess hormones—but she was too afraid to tell her mother, who already had so many burdens.

"Amara promises, mom," Amara said, standing up and reverently kissing her mother's hand. "I'll send money every month. Take care of your health, take care of Sekar and Bimo. Amara will be fine in Mr.Aditama's house. They say they are good people."

Sumiyati handed over a cloth package containing provisions. "This is for the journey. Be careful, honey. Guard your honor. In big cities, there are many wolves in sheep's clothing."

Amara nodded, but in her heart, she thought, 'Let the wolves come, as long as my family can eat.'

With an old backpack and a pounding heart, Amara stepped out of her humble house. She didn't look back as the inter-provincial economy bus began to move away because she knew that if she did, she would never be able to leave.

She didn't know that in Jakarta, she wouldn't just be a baby caregiver, but an oasis for a man whose heart had long been barren.

- - -

Amara took a deep breath as the door of the economy bus opened at Kalideres Terminal. The smell of pollution, exhaust fumes, and the hustle and bustle of people greeted her harshly. However, all the exhaustion seemed to evaporate as she gazed at the skyline.

Skyscrapers stood proudly, piercing the thin clouds of Jakarta. To Amara, the buildings looked like glass giants reflecting the afternoon sunlight.

"Extraordinary... so tall," Amara murmured softly, tightening her grip on her backpack. Her eyes didn't blink as she looked at the grandeur she had never encountered beyond the hills of her village.

"Don't daydream, or you'll get pickpocketed," a crisp female voice startled her.

Amara turned and saw a woman in her 40s with neat but simple clothes. It was Lasmi, a distant relative who had promised her a job.

"Miss Lasmi!" Amara smiled in relief, feeling like she had a protector in this concrete jungle.

"Come on, Mara. Let's take a taxi. Mr.Arlan is waiting. The baby has been fussy all morning," Lasmi said, pulling Amara's hand towards the row of cars waiting in line.

Inside the vehicle heading towards the elite Menteng area, Amara kept pressing her face against the window. She was amazed to see rows of luxury cars and city lights that were starting to turn on. However, the atmosphere turned serious as Lasmi began to give instructions in a low and firm tone.

"Listen carefully, Mara. Working at the Aditama residence is not the same as in the village. Your salary is high, more than enough for Sekar and Bimo's school fees every month, but your responsibilities are also heavy."

Amara nodded quickly, her face showing seriousness. "What do I have to do, Madam? I will learn quickly."

"Your main task is only one: to take care of Baby Kenzo. He's only three months old, and it's unfortunate that he was abandoned by his mother just like that. But remember one thing," Lasmi looked Amara in the eye sharply, "Never ask about Mr.Arlan's wife. In that house, that woman's name is forbidden to be spoken. Don't provoke the Master's anger."

"Okay, madam. I promise not to be presumptuous."

"And about Mr.Arlan..."Lasmi sighed deeply. "He is a very cold person. Very rigid. If he passes by, just bow your head and don't dare look him in the eye for too long unless he speaks first. He doesn't like noise, doesn't like carelessness, and most importantly... never touch anything in his study."

Amara swallowed hard, nervousness beginning to spread to her fingertips. "Mr.Arlan... is he a temperamental person, madam?"

"He's just a man who is hurting, Mara. His heart has been frozen since his wife betrayed him. Oh yeah, one more thing," Lasmi looked Amara up and down. "Mr.Arlan is very obsessed with cleanliness. You must always be neat and fragrant. And... are you ready? You have to be on standby 24 hours because Baby Kenzo refuses all kinds of formula. He is very difficult to calm down."

Amara felt her chest throbbing painfully. That warm seepage appeared again, wetting her underwear until it felt damp. "Amara will try her best, Madam. Amara really needs this job for mom in the village."

The taxi then stopped in front of a towering black gate. As the automatic gate slid open slowly, a magnificent European-style modern mansion stood proudly behind a neatly arranged garden.

"Remember my message earlier, Mara," Lasmi whispered as they got out of the car. "Don't talk if you don't have to, and treat Baby Kenzo like your own world. Understand?"

"Understood," Amara replied softly, trying to calm her racing heart.

As they stepped onto the spacious terrace made of shiny marble, the faint sound of a baby's heartbreaking cries could be heard from upstairs, accompanied by the low roar of a man who sounded very frustrated.

"Why won't he be quiet?! Is there not one of you capable of taking care of a baby?!"

Amara trembled. The voice was so heavy and full of authority. Her footsteps felt heavy, but she knew that behind that big door, her family's fate was determined.

Amara's footsteps felt heavy as she climbed the spiral staircase covered with thick carpet. The closer she got to the upper floor, the clearer the sound of a baby's piercing cries became, mixed with the sound of objects being moved roughly. Lasmi, who was walking in front of her, looked tense, repeatedly straightening her uniform as if preparing to enter a battlefield.

"Wait here for a moment," Lasmi whispered as they reached the front of a large, closed teak wood door.

Lasmi knocked on the door gently. "Sir... the new nanny has arrived."

"Come in!" The voice was not only heavy, but also contained a vibration of suppressed anger.

As soon as the door opened, the sight inside the room stunned Amara. The nursery was very large, perhaps the size of her entire house in the village, but the atmosphere felt so oppressive. In the middle of the room, a man in a disheveled black shirt was pacing back and forth while cradling a baby who kept struggling.

"He still won't touch the bottle, Lasmi! Three types of formula have been changed today!" Arlan exclaimed without turning around. His face looked tired with real lines of frustration on his forehead.

Lasmi immediately signaled Amara to come closer. Amara stepped forward, her head bowed as instructed, but her eyes caught Arlan's figure up close. The man was much taller than she had imagined, with a firm jaw and a very masculine woody perfume—mixed with the sour smell of baby milk.

"This is Amara, Sir. The girl I told you about from the village," Lasmi said softly.

Arlan stopped walking. He turned around and stared at Amara from head to toe. His gaze was so sharp, as if dissecting every secret Amara carried.

"Her? She's still a child," Arlan hissed coldly. "Does she know how to take care of a baby? Kenzo is being very fussy, I don't need an amateur here."

Amara dared to raise her face slightly, although she immediately bowed again when her eyes met Arlan's intimidating dark eyes. "I... I'm used to taking care of my two younger siblings since I was little, Sir. Please give me a chance."

"Argh!" Arlan groaned as Kenzo, the baby in his arms, started crying louder again until his face turned red. Arlan seemed to lose his patience. Without many words, he thrust the tiny baby towards Amara. "Take him. Prove to me that you're useful, or you'll be sent home tonight."

Amara deftly received Kenzo's tiny body. As soon as the baby's skin touched her arms, an extraordinary wave of warmth suddenly spread throughout Amara's body. Her chest throbbed intensely, the pain from the build-up of fluid inside seemed to find its "trigger."

Strangely, as soon as he was in Amara's arms, Kenzo slowly began to calm down. His sobs diminished into soft whimpers. The baby leaned his head on Amara's chest, right at the point that hurt the most, and began to sniff as if smelling a familiar scent.

Arlan was stunned. He narrowed his eyes, watching how the baby, who could not be calmed by anyone before, suddenly became tame in the hands of this village girl.

"Why did he calm down right away?" Arlan asked, his voice now lowered, but still felt threatening.

"Maybe... Kenzo just needs a comfortable hug, Sir," Amara answered nervously. Her heart was pounding not only because of fear, but because the leakage in her chest was getting out of control. She could feel her underwear starting to get soaked.

"Lasmi, leave us. Let her try feeding him the milk one more time in front of me," Arlan ordered absolutely.

Lasmi gave Amara a worried look before leaving and closing the door. Now, in the spacious room, there were only Amara, the baby who was starting to get restless looking for something on her chest, and Arlan who was standing only a few steps away from her, watching with his arms crossed.

Amara swallowed. She knew Kenzo wasn't looking for the plastic bottle lying on the table. Kenzo was looking for the source of life that was currently torturing Amara's body.

Amara felt cold sweat starting to trickle down her temples. Kenzo in her arms began to behave more aggressively; the baby's tiny hands gripped Amara's shirt right at her chest, while his head kept moving wildly, sniffing for the source of the sweet scent that intoxicated his sense of smell.

The pain in Amara's chest was unbearable. She knew that if she didn't release her breast milk soon, not only would Kenzo explode in tears, but her clothes would also be soaking wet from the unstoppable leakage.

"Sir... I'm sorry," Amara's voice trembled, she stepped back one step. "May... may I ask Sir to go outside for a moment? I want to try to calm Kenzo alone. Maybe he needs a quieter atmosphere without anyone else."

Arlan's eyebrows furrowed instantly. His sharp eyes narrowed, staring at Amara with a gaze that seemed to be able to penetrate the girl's heart.

"You're kicking me out of my own son's room?" Arlan asked in a low, very intimidating tone.

"It's not like that, Sir... I just think maybe Kenzo feels tense because the atmosphere here is too... stiff," Amara tried to find a reason, her hands holding Kenzo, who was starting to whine in frustration, tighter.

Arlan stepped forward, reducing the distance between them. Amara could smell Arlan's strong masculine scent, which for some reason made the hormones in her body react even more wildly.

"Listen, Village Girl," Arlan said, his voice now right in front of Amara's face. "I just met you ten minutes ago. You're a stranger. You think I'll let you be alone with my son without my supervision? Don't expect it."

"But Sir, Kenzo really needs peace. I promise I won't do anything," Amara pleaded almost begging. The baby was now pulling on Amara's collar with his mouth open, searching.

"What exactly do you want to do that I'm not allowed to see?" Arlan asked suspiciously. His eyes dropped, noticing Amara's hands that kept pressing her own chest as if holding back the pain. "Why are your hands there? Are you hiding something?"

Amara's face flushed red. "No, Sir. I... I just..."

"Don't lie to me!" Arlan snapped softly but piercingly. "Take the bottle and give it to him now. In front of me. I want to see how you work."

"He doesn't want the bottle, Sir! Look, he's refusing it!" Amara exclaimed in despair as Kenzo started screaming again for not getting what he wanted.

Kenzo's crying this time was much more heartbreaking. The baby was kicking, and accidentally his elbow pressed on Amara's swollen chest. Amara moaned softly, tears starting to well up in the corners of her eyes because of the combination of physical pain and mental pressure.

"Why are you crying? Just because I scolded you?" Arlan looked surprised to see the girl's tears, but his ego remained high.

"Please, Sir... I beg you," Amara whispered between sobs. "Let me try my way. I guarantee Sir Kenzo will be quiet in five minutes. If not, Sir can fire me right now. But please... give us some privacy for a moment."

Arlan was silent. He saw his son suffering and saw the girl in front of him who looked so tormented by something he didn't understand. There was an urge in Arlan's heart to yell again, but seeing Amara's fragility, something foreign stirred in his heart.

"Two minutes," Arlan finally hissed as he turned towards the door. "I'll be standing right behind this door. If I hear a suspicious sound, I'll come in and you'll regret stepping foot in this house."

SLAM!

The teak door closed hard.

Amara exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. She immediately locked the door from the inside, even though she knew Arlan might be watching her through CCTV or standing right behind the wood.

"Shh... shh, darling. Forgive me, okay," Amara whispered to Kenzo.

With trembling hands, Amara sat in the rocking chair in the corner of the room. She unbuttoned her uniform one by one. As soon as the fabric opened, Kenzo immediately fell silent, his wet eyes staring intently at Amara. When Amara brought the baby closer to her chest, Kenzo immediately grabbed it greedily, as if he had found a lost treasure.

Slurp...

Amara closed her eyes, her head leaning back. The agonizing pain slowly turned into extraordinary relief. But behind the door, Arlan stood frozen. The sudden silence inside the room only made him more curious and... fluttered.