Chapter 1: My Golden Cage

A wise saying goes, the best way to know the world is through writing.

I put down my favorite silver pen. That's it for today. Apparently, I've been busy writing for 3 hours. Sheets of white paper scattered around me as if accompanying me to spend the night. Using a form is always more fun than writing it using my latest MacBook. It feels more ... just classic. I prefer simplicity over luxury, which I always have.

Tonight will be a fascinating night to stay up late.

Several DVDs of my favorite movies that I bought this afternoon are neatly lined under my Plasma Television. Do not miss the snacks available on the side. There's popcorn, spicy peanuts, sandwiches, and don't forget my favorite mac and cheese. Dad won't agree with my plans to stay up late tonight, but what else can a 20-year-old girl do when she's not allowed to go out on the weekend?

Unlike other friends who are busy going to the cinema, nightclubs, or maybe just taking a walk, this is the only thing I can do to relieve my boredom.

"Minka?" There was a soft knock on my bedroom door. That's my father. He must have come to check.

"Yeah, Dad," I answered. I walked to the door and unlocked it.

Dad was standing at the door, wearing his black and white suit and tie. This time, he wears a black tie with a touch of gold on the embroidered part of the company logo. Meanwhile, his black shoes are as shiny as ever. His greasy hair also looks so slick that anyone who's seen it will agree with me that this man has a lot of styles and… money.

"I will go now."

Like usual nights, he always left me when I was about to jump out of my room and go to a nightclub where my friends were struggling with loud music and alcohol.

I just pursed my lips. Why is my father free to go wherever he wants, and I'm not?

"Honey," Dad came closer to me. "You can go sightseeing as much as you want. But tomorrow. Sunday morning."

"I'm so freaking bored, Dad," I said sulkily. Who knows, Dad will melt and let me come with him.

Dad walked into my room and looked at some of my tools to spend the evening.

"You just bought a new DVD. It can relieve your boredom." He took popcorn and chewed it. "The problem is—" He said as he walked out of the room. "—Dad will be late. So I'll go now." He ruffled my hair lightly and walked away.

"Don't be too late. Okay?" He asked just before disappearing behind the door, leaving me alone as usual.

Yes, that's my Dad. A workaholic. A Governor who spends almost 24 hours struggling with his job. Apart from being the Governor, my father is also a businessman. He has businesses in retail, resort, and oil palm plantations. That's why he rarely accompanies me at home.

I must admit that my father is a very dedicated person to his work. He also has a high sense of responsibility. Dad always devoted 100% of his concentration to whatever he was doing. Maybe that's what made him successful in retaining his position as a Governor for this one and a half term.

For many years my Dad was a single parent to me. It happened because my Mom died giving birth to me. My Mom left before I could even see her face. So, apart from the photos, I can't remember anything about her face.

As for all the good things a father has, there must be a negative side that cannot be separated. The bad side that I don't really like about my Dad is that he is very protective of his daughter. The one and only me.

Since I was a child, he has always limited my association. He gave me the time limit to play and socialize with friends to the choice of friends that he felt deserved to be side-by-side with me. Therefore, the number of friends I have is limited. It can even be counted on one hand.

Indeed I always get whatever I want. Gucci, Prada, LV, Benz, Apple, and dozens of other luxury goods seem to be my close friends. Private salon treatments always come whenever I want. Luxury holidays every year are also not a difficult thing to achieve. In short, from a financial point of view, my well-being is unquestionable.

Maybe people will think that my life is perfect with my father's wealth.

But it becomes no longer fun when your heart feels empty.

***

As I walked along the wet grass from the rain last night, my footsteps felt light. The smell of damp earth wafted into my senses of smell. Fresh air is truly a panacea for all stagnation.

What am I going to do today, huh? Shopping? Bookstore? Café? Maybe all of that will be fun when done with my best friend.

Or maybe a lover.

Unfortunately, I don't have both.

My experience with this one is pretty bad. It's all because of my Dad, who restrained me too much.

One day when I was in 3rd grade of high school, I was driven home by my friend named Jackson. As expected, Dad was furious with him and cursed him in front of me. Dad said that a boy like him was unfit to accompany me home. Anyway, the words that come out of him will hurt if you listen to them. I was so freaking embarrassed at that time.

Since that incident, all the boys and girls in my school have not dared to be close friends with me. We are friends formally. In short, I have no close friends.

I looked at the contact list on my phone. I need someone to accompany me, but who is it? Fera, Joy, Kay, Miranda, Evan...

Hmm ... Evan maybe not be bad.

It took a few seconds before he picked up my call. For a moment, I thought he had changed his cellphone number, or worse, he wouldn't pick up my calls. But fortunately, my guess was not valid.

"Hello," he said hoarsely.

"Hello," I repeated. Uh, how to start? "Evan?"

"Minka?" The response is on the other side.

He still recognizes me. He still has my number!

"Yeah. Umm—"

Before I could answer, he had already cut it. "A Minka called me?" he asked sarcastically.

Hey, what's the matter?

"Yes, a Minka called you. Why?" I asked, amused. From the beginning, Evan has never changed.

He laughed. "Not. Just feel so odd. Did you dream last night you wanted to call me?"

This is what I like about Evan. He treated me the same way he treated the rest of his friends. Most of my friends never talk casually to me. They always say polite and formal. Maybe they were worried about my Dad or something. That's what makes me seem to have distance from them.

But apparently, that doesn't apply to Evan, my childhood friend from elementary school.

"Oh, please. Where are you now?"

"At home. In my room actually."

Oh, maybe he was sleeping when I called. Is it too early for him?

Okay, I have to be brave enough to say it.

"You want to go out with me?" I asked carefully. I was distraught that he would reject it outright.

"Okay, where are you going?"

"You want?" I asked in disbelief. Finally, someone wants to hang out with me.

"Sure. So what?"

"I thought you..."

"Scared of your father?" An exact guess. "Nope. I'm not afraid of your killer father."

Thank God. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. How about we go to the city park? The place where we used to play," I offered.

"No problem." He added. "I'll get ready first, okay?"

"Meet me at 11 o'clock." Then check the silver watch on my left hand. "Don't be late."

"Yes. I won't be late. See you!" He said in a thick British accent. He then hung up the phone.

Finally, there is also a friend who wants to go. I'm lucky he still wants to be friends with me.

It's going to be a great day, I think.