Chapter 1 - The Question
The question began as a habit.
Not suspicion. Not accusation.
Just a sentence that slipped out at the end of intimacy, like a ritual he did not examine.
"Are you satisfied?"
The ceiling fan turned slowly above them, stirring the warm air of the bedroom. Its rhythm was uneven-three smooth rotations, one slight click.
Siti lay beside him, her breathing still shallow.
"Yes," she would answer.
Always yes.
He would nod.
And yet something inside him never fully settled.
It wasn't that he didn't believe her.
It was that he needed to hear it.
Every time.
As if the word confirmed not just pleasure-
but worth.
Suwandi had once been a man who did not ask for confirmation.
Eight years in the same company. Team leader. Stable income. Predictable respect.
His name carried weight in meeting rooms.
Now, he spent more mornings at the dining table than in an office.
The table had become his workstation. His battlefield. His quiet reminder.
Job listings glowed on his phone screen. Emails began with "We regret..."
The ceiling fan turned above him in daylight too.
The same rhythm.
Three smooth rotations. One click.
Siti never complained.
She adjusted expenses. Cooked more at home. Smiled at the children as usual.
Valentino talked about school projects. Xiaowei asked for help tying ribbons in her hair.
Life continued.
But something subtle had shifted in him.
When Siti laughed at her phone one evening, he noticed.
When she mentioned a colleague's name, he noticed.
When she replied quickly to messages, he noticed.
Not because she had changed.
Because he had.
That night, after intimacy, the question rose again.
"Are you satisfied?"
She turned toward him, slightly amused.
"I told you already."
"I know."
The fan clicked once above them.
"Yes," she said again, softer this time.
He kissed her forehead.
Closed his eyes.
And told himself the doubt was small.
But small doubts, like slow ceiling fans,
move constantly-
even when no one is looking.
Author's Note
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