3 Ludwina & Andrea (Part 1): Fated Encounter

My name is Ludwina. My parents were big fans of classical music and named me after the maestro, Ludwig van Beethoven.

My older brother was Johann. I guess you could tell that his name was taken from Johann Sebastian Bach. My second brother's name was Wolfgang, from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and he passed away a long time ago when he was only fourteen.

Enough about me, though.

I wanted to tell you the story about Andrea, the only man I have ever loved in this world and how I would do anything for him.

I am Andrea's second and last love.

During high school and university, he fell in love and dated his best friend. She came from a wealthy background and her family considered Andrea unworthy to be their daughter's boyfriend. Not only because they were not equal in status, but because they were also raised in different faiths.

You see, religion still played a big role in many parents' minds back in my country, Indonesia.

For years, they fought hard for their love but finally, the girl gave up and said goodbye a year before graduation from university and continued her education in England.

Andrea became a reclusive man who was cold towards women and chose to work as an engineer who only dealt with computers and other inanimate objects.

Our first meeting happened in an airport in Jakarta, one evening five years ago. I was too absorbed in searching for my passport, which fell out of my bag somehow. He was spacing out and walking backward, reading the flight schedule on the display board.

He was going to fly to Singapore for a job interview at an international IT company, and I had just returned from Hong Kong to seek inspiration to write my novels, as well as to attend the opening of my father's newest hotel.

He turned around just as I was walking behind him, looking down frantically at the floor, checking if that damnable passport was there.

The collision was quite powerful because he was big and tall and I was small and frail. I fell hard on the floor.

"Oh.. my God. I am so sorry..." he said as he helped me up. "Let me help you ..."

I was very angry (actually I was angry at myself for losing my passport, cellphone, bag, and other small items for the umpteenth times) and brushed off his hand.

"Don't touch me! I can help myself."

He frowned at me, shrugged and then left.

I tried to stand up but my feet wouldn't cooperate. It turned out that my stiletto heels were dislodged to one side, and I just realized that my right foot was sprained from the impact.

"Hey, you! Come back here! You must take responsibility for me. I can't walk, you know!" I shouted. "Heyyy...!!"

Some people tried to help me but I brushed off those hands offering help. I was a spoiled princess who used to get whatever I wanted, and at that time I wanted THAT MAN to come back and help me!

Andrea narrowed his eyes with a look of disbelief at my behavior but he walked back to me and helped me up. Without saying anything, he carried me to the nearest bench and took my bag.

He asked me where I was going so he could take me to the boarding gate. I answered curtly that I had just landed and was looking for my passport that had slipped off somewhere so that I could pass the immigration to get out of the airport.

He looked at his watch and sighed.

"Let me take you to immigration. You should be able to take care of it if you lost your passport."

I let him take care of me for hours. He contacted the airport security to file a report that I lost my passport, then took me to the immigration office so I could get out of the airport, then get my suitcase from the carousel.

I could have called my father (who then would call the head of the airport or the head of the immigration office so that I was given a pass), but I wanted to teach this person a lesson. I wanted to test his limit.

Gosh ... I guess the joke was on me!

There was no limit!

This guy was so calm and patient, as if he had a bottomless well of patience, to the point that this spoiled princess finally felt bad for bothering him in such a way.

If you guessed Andrea missed his flight and ended up taking me home by taxi, you are right.

On the way home, I began to feel ashamed of my actions that had caused this stranger to miss his flight. When he was about to leave my house, I forced him to leave his telephone number so I could contact him to send him reimbursement for the hospital fees in case my injury was severe.

I know, you must be saying I was being too much. But at that moment, I immediately knew that this man was special and I had to have him.

I was never so attracted to a man like I was to him. Usually, they were the ones who were competing for my attention.

Ever since our fated encounter, I always looked for an excuse to contact him. I even schemed him to take me to the hospital to check my leg and later asked him to wait on me during the 'physiotherapy session' once a week as recommended by the doctor (who was actually my brother's classmate in university).

He never rejected my demands even though I could see he was often checking my feet suspiciously. My feet were actually fine, and maybe he guessed it, but he never voiced his suspicion.

A month later, I finally ran out of excuses to meet him and I cried all day.

My brother, Johann, told me to stop my foolishness and act like an adult. That meant: stop lying to find excuses to meet Andrea. He told me to talk to Andrea to see each other properly.

I flat out said no. I insisted that I had never pursued a man. I want him to be the one to pursue me.

So, I waited for him to contact me for one week. I was miserable but remained stubborn.

One week ... two weeks ... three weeks ...

Aarrrghhh...

Finally, a month later, I gave up and decided to call him.

I was too late.

Andrea had just moved to Singapore. His previous job interview failed because of me and he lost his chance to work in the country. But later, another bigger international company contacted him to work for them and, after a very impressive interview, they immediately arranged a work visa for him.

He had just left for Singapore the day before I called. When I hung up, I realized that I just made him pay such expensive roaming charges. Strangely though, he didn't mention the roaming fees at all.

Suddenly, I was feeling so sad. I finally decided to pursue this man, but because I was too proud, he left before I could ask him to meet. I didn't know what to do.

***

Somehow, six months later, we met again at the same airport. He had just arrived in Jakarta while I was preparing to fly to the UK. I told him about my travel plans, which involved a lot of sitting in a coffee shop in Scotland and hoping to get the same inspiration as J.K. Rowling when she was writing Harry Potter.

He gave me a look of pity.

"You don't have the talent to be a writer. You're too happy."

His blunt statement made me feel like being slapped in the face. No one had ever said something so harsh to me like what he just did.

I had never finished any of my novels. Only recently, I managed to get some travel articles I wrote published in a local newspaper. My parents were super proud of me, but deep down, I knew that I was really a nobody in the writing industry.

"How could you say that to me?" I asked him in shock.

"You can't write creatively because you never have any struggles. All great artists produced their best works when they were either poor or distressed or depressed. Just look at Sting for example, now he is happy and never produced any masterpieces again." He took the brochure about Scotland from my hand.

"Wherever you go, what you are looking for will not be found. The inspiration is here." He placed my hand on his chest.

My heart trembled and until I landed at Heathrow, I still felt my hand on his chest.

Finally, I could not stand it anymore and while in England I searched for Andrea on Facebook hoping to find out more about him, and looking for excuses to establish contact.

Damn, it turned out he didn't use any social networking sites. And I didn't even know his full name and the company where he worked. How could I find information about this guy???

I was feeling so sad in Edinburgh when I should be having a great holiday and a quiet time to get inspiration for writing. Finally, I went home and gave up.

Suddenly, Andrea sent me an email and asked how I was doing in my search for inspiration. I didn't know where he got my email from, but I was in seventh heaven!

I didn't think I had ever been that happy when I opened my computer in the morning and got his email.

After that, we started emailing each other frequently. Until one day, when he returned from Singapore to visit his mother, he told me his schedule so that I could arrange my travel schedule to find inspiration to write.

I would try to be in Jakarta when he came home. We began to meet like normal people, meaning that I no longer had to pretend that I hurt my feet and he must take me to visit the hospital.

One meeting led to another. When he came, we would have dinner and hang out together. It was beautiful.

I slowly learned everything about him, and I liked the man even more. I even started going back to Singapore so I could meet him. I used to go there with my mother almost every week for shopping, but I stopped going years ago since it got so boring. After all, Singapore was not a good city to find inspiration to write.

One time, when I told him that I was coming to Singapore, he said that he would pick me up at Changi Airport. I was elated because, usually, Andrea was very busy and didn't have time for trivial things.

He invited me to dinner at Clarke Quay and, afterward, we returned to his apartment. We opened a bottle of prosecco to celebrate his promotion at work. His Canadian boss had just moved back to his home country, and Andrea was promoted to fill his position as the manager in his department.

I was very proud of him. I was secretly sad, though, because until then, my only achievement was publishing a few travel articles in a local newspaper. I insisted that writing was my calling, and I was sure that one day I would be able to get the break I had been waiting for. I didn't want to waste time working at my father's company, doing things I didn't like.

That night, after two glasses of wine, Andrea proposed to me. I was scared because I never wanted to get married at such a young age. I was 25 years old back then.

And I didn't want children.

I was afraid to even think that a human baby would be coming out of my vagina, not to mention the earth-shattering pain being part of the process.

I couldn't even take care of myself! How could I take care of some weak little creatures that would drain my energy and patience? After all, the world had too many humans already ...

But ... I didn't want Andrea to change his mind. I loved and adored this beautiful soul. I didn't want to lose him because I had never felt this feeling for anyone before.

Finally, I said yes to his proposal, on one condition: I would marry him as long as he didn't mind if I couldn't give him children.

He kissed me as a sign of agreement.

***

I later realized that Andrea actually wanted children. He thought my fear was not real and that one day I would change my mind and want to have a baby, just like him.

We got married in a simple but solemn wedding. Andrea did not like crowds, and he managed to convince my mother to agree on a small intimate wedding. You see, my mother's only dream in life was to throw lavish weddings for her kids. But she finally relented. That's how much my mom loved this man to be her son-in-law.

There was only me and him, the pastor and our parents on the private beach of one of my father's hotels in Bali. I had never been happier than I was on my wedding day.

After three years of marriage, we still did not talk about children. I became more productive in my writing and even finished two short novels. It didn't sell well, but at least I managed to publish something on my own.

Andrea said, even though problems and suffering were the most powerful sources of inspiration, happiness could also make me feel the great emotions that help me write. I was sure he was right.

In the fourth year, I began to see the sadness on his face when he saw small children roaming around our apartment building. I knew he would not talk about children at all because he was keeping his promise to me.

However, I was finally feeling touched and decided to secretly visit the ob-gyn and find out information about how to get pregnant and what was the most comfortable way to give birth.

The doctor gave me some tests and told me to come back in three days. The day before my next appointment, he called me and told me to go to the clinic with my husband. I immediately got a bad feeling and instead went there by myself.

My test results were truly heartbreaking. The doctor discovered an abnormality in my uterus that made me unable to have children.

This felt like a curse.

Because of my reluctance to have children for years ... now I was being punished.

I was despondent. I did not know how to convey this to Andrea, I knew he really wanted a child.

When I got home, I found Andrea sitting on a balcony chair with a confused face. He was supposed to work, but instead, he was at home.

I was surprised and immediately, a bad feeling was creeping up my chest.

"Wina ... I ..." he swallowed hard as if searching for the right words. "I have a son."

Like being struck by lightning in broad daylight, my sadness was immediately replaced by anger. Andrea stammered, explaining that he had just received an email from his ex-girlfriend.

I knew she was his first love, and they were in a relationship for 7 years. The struggle to get her parents blessings was futile and finally, she gave up and moved to England to continue her studies. Apparently, what really happened was... she left Andrea because her parents forced her.

The girl was pregnant and her parents were ashamed if their business partners and relatives knew about it, while letting her marry Andrea was not a choice they liked. So, they forced her to go.

The child was now 6 years old. He was born and raised in London. He showed me his son's pictures and their spitting image was evidence of the blood relations between my Andrea and that little boy. My heart was torn to pieces when I remember my own inability to give offspring for this man whom I loved more than anything in the world.

There was only one reason why the woman sent a photo of their child. She still hadn't moved on from Andrea and wanted them to get back together as a family. In her letter, the woman said that now she was an adult who supported herself and could make her own decisions. So, she no longer cared about her parents' wishes. And she wanted her son to know Andrea as his father.

I know I was being selfish, but I didn't allow Andrea to meet the child. I did not want that every time he looked at the child he would see what he was missing out from our marriage ...

I didn't want him to think about the child he should have had - and the perfect family that should have been his.

Andrea was not angry. He respected my decision as his wife not to let him see his child from another woman. But I couldn't stand seeing his sadness getting deeper and deeper.

Finally, when he told me that he got a job offer to join his former boss who founded a cybersecurity company in England and he intended to accept it, I said that I was proud of him and supported him to move to England. But, I chose to return to Indonesia.

I love him more than myself. That was why I relented and let him be happy with the family he deserved.