"What do you think about Armein and Hanun's relationship?" asked the reporter for the gossip program to Binar. "As a friend, I certainly support whatever is best for Armein Khai!" replied Binar with a wide smile. His sunglasses completely covered his eyes. Of course. The looks in his eyes cannot be engineered by any cosmetic. Without glasses, dozens of cameras will record the true emotions in his eyes. Anger and disappointment almost left him speechless. They must not see that.

However, Binar is already very skillful at dealing with things like this. He knew reporters would swarm him as soon as he stepped out of the theater, simply because the previous night's photo of me kissing Hanun on the forehead when we had just donated some money to build a multi-story building to house stray children; be the highlight in all media.

Binar had a hard time admitting how complicated reality was. The photo was not without months of planning and drafting, including complex business discussions and agreements. Simon in detail asked me to stroke the edges of Hanun's hair, and offered to carry her bag and umbrella—I must not forget which side the famous brand logo on Hanun's bag had to face when I acted like insisting to carry her bag. I was also obliged to open the door for her in the business agreement, and "lit it up at the climax" was Simon's instructions about engineering the scene that would be a delicious treat for reporters. The fire he asked for was a touch of the tip of my nose to Hanun's forehead which he called an "impulsive kiss".

Simon also sent a script from Hanun's manager. The contents included what Hanun had to do; to pretend not to know I was behind her, and she would turn around so that our faces were close; a present for the paparazzi, then don't forget to cover my face pretending to be embarrassed when I kiss her forehead. Of course, I had to memorize that scenario to synchronize my actions. Who said being a celebrity was easy?

"But you didn't kiss her!" Carra protested. "How do you know?" I asked. Carra then told me that five minutes after the media first published the kiss, a slow-motion video of the pretentious kissing scene on her forehead appeared. From the video, it can be seen that I only put the tip of my nose on Hanun's forehead. And according to Carra, that slo-mo video went more viral than the official video of the kissing scene, and Hanun was very disappointed. "She was crying on the phone, saying you're underestimating her!" my sister grumbled. Of course, I retorted, "I was not demeaning..."

Hanun. That girl should have known that I couldn't possibly love her. Why would she agree to a screenplay arranged by Simon and her manager? If she refused, maybe I would easily refuse too. For me, it is more peaceful when only my musical works are exploited to the fullest or my creative process.

I don't mind having to do a reality show pretending to be a shabby busker to surprise fans, or show up at my fan school show, surprise sick kids in the hospital or anything like that. But…

Pretending to have a personal relationship with someone we don't love is exhausting.

Once I was doing a photo shoot for fashion products at a shop and Hanun happened to be not far from that place. Simon asked me to act surprised and pretend to be "a bit happy" seeing Hanun's sudden arrival. I immediately felt in hell, because the impromptu scenario still had to be followed by 1 hour of the next photo session.

After the engineering drama that produced many "supposed to be candid" photos and videos, my photographer approached and whispered, "Arm, I can't use your photos when Hanun was here earlier. Your face and aura are so different, so out of context. I will delete all frames you wasted this last one hour, sorry…"

Of course, I wasn't surprised, though I was disappointed. The face of a person whose peace of mind was forcibly taken away for the sake of entertainment commodities, which only had an economic impact—however creatively beautiful it was; no matter how great my pretending talent was shown, it must be very "pathetic" and far from the artistic value that was the theme of my photo shoot that day. I know.

It was very difficult to hold back my feelings, not to mention the next day when candid paparazzi photos appeared in the media, I had to face Binar's heartache with all of my energy.

He often has photo sessions with beautiful women. However, I will not be angry nor jealous or offended to see it. Including when photos or videos of his "candid" appear with other female celebrities. Because I know it's just business. However, Binar likes to make me panic with jealousy and sulk whenever there is news or a photo of me with Hanun.

Binar was well aware of how much I couldn't stand being attacked by his jealousy, and that I would do everything just to calm him down. The price of my prison is, really, really expensive...

Binar's interview this morning resulted in him not picking up my phone. Twenty-nine missed calls didn't make him forgive me and free me from the effects of this stupid love scenario.

I asked Erron to prepare my car, after tonight's meeting; I have to go to him. With or without the approval of Simon and Kharisma, the managers of Binar. I do not care. As I expected, Kharisma sent a short message to my blue cell phone, "Binar is cranky, he's crying, Arm. He's been locked in his dressing room for 1 hour. Even though we will have the shoot in 2 hours. His cell phone is turned off."

After Nana and Dada left, news like that became my top priority; it made my heart beat faster and more nervous, and sweat trickled down my entire body. I would forget any contract or code of conduct when I heard Binar cry. I couldn't possibly do any meetings or work after finding out.

Meanwhile, Simon and I were already in the meeting room with these capitalists. I would have canceled my presence, and without delaying a second longer, I would have run to my soul mate. And ironically, the only ones who know exactly how big this problem is for me are Simon, Erron, and Kharisma. The rest just saw me as a celebrity who was "remaining arrogant" because I got this "attitude".

"I'll be there in an hour, Ris. Do what you need to do ..." I ordered Kharisma to prepare. Simon immediately looked frantic. He knew what would happen next if I made a sudden decision about Binar. Simon was also aware that I was in a mood where even my manager wouldn't be able to resist my urges.

Simon immediately discussed with his staff about how to smuggle me into the Binar's room tonight without provoking the paparazzi. This is their "usual" impossible mission, which they have mastered mechanically. Kharisma finally accommodated my wishes by gathering all the crew for Binar's photo shoot that day on different floors for "a briefing"; a few minutes before my arrival.

She had also inserted a piece of paper that said 'Ur Tophat is on the way' under Binar's dressing room door so that my sweetheart would know that I was on my way to meet him. Binar used the password "tophat" to address me in front of the manager and his staff. Like I named Binar "biscuit" when talking about him to Simon.

I ignored all the clues and strategies that Simon crammed into my ears during the 40-minute drive from my meeting point to the building where Binar's photo session was. In the course of my career, Binar is my comfort. The possibility that Binar would be so angry as to leave me was, for me, the end of everything, including the end of Simon's business and my career.

I'm not sure I can continue my career as a singer or musician without Binar accompanying me. At this point, I felt like I was done with my ambitions, but there would be grave consequences if I suddenly stopped everything, moved to the mountainside, and became a flower or sweet potato farmer. Binar is the only reason why I continue working hard to maintain my celebrity rating and beat up my laziness to keep my handsome performance.

On the other hand, I also know that my clever boyfriend will not be easily weakened by his circumstances and "celebrity prison."

I streamed the video of his interview this morning over and over on my phone screen; trying to remember and research what details of the reporters' questions had made Binar so angry with me. Isn't he the one who knows my true feelings the best among all the people around me? That I couldn't have agreed to the disgusting scenario of kissing Hanun in front of the camera, were it not for the consequences with my contract and career; it's all just business. Binar knows that. But...

"If you don't care about your image, why don't you care about Binar's image, Arm!" Simon snapped at me to bring me back to the fact that I had to behave and act more wisely in this situation and had to control my emotions.

Simon couldn't take my emotional act to calm down a sulking Binar immediately. According to him, it was too 'obvious'... Even though I had said 'fuck it, I finally gave up and followed all Simon's directions on what to do. After all, I'd be in trouble without it.

Kharisma keeps several trusted people on guard to guide me and Simon. They even prepared a big jacket and hat to cover my face and body from CCTV. I thank her, even though in my heart I feel they have been very stupid. Savvy journalists would find it odd to see Simon and I covered in the same jacket and hat. Our postures are so much different that even a new reporter would easily tell the difference. It's useless. This 'disguising device' has become a drama property that makes the news that appears later become 'spicier' and 'savory'.

Realizing this, I took off my jacket and hat and gave them to one of my bodyguards whose stature wasn't that much different from mine, to exchange for his hat and jacket. Hopefully, now I look more like my bodyguard. I asked Simon to follow my bodyguard to the lobby and sit there as if waiting for something, while I, along with my hat and bodyguard jacket, went up to Binar's room.

The changing room was guarded by two people on the outside, I whispered to them to go and get me a drink. A few moments later I knocked on Binar's dressing room door with a tray of drinks in my left hand, "Moonlight, open..." I didn't need to whisper. CCTV won't catch my voice. Binar will know I'm coming. Of course.

He opens the door, I bow respectfully in the doorway—it's part of the show for the CCTV up there, and pretends to offer the contents of the tray, then enters the room. Inside, I closed the door behind my back and quickly hugged him. But Binar pushed my arm away. "I'm tired, Meinchi," he said in a curt voice. His face was puffy from crying. I tried to hug him again, and he pushed me away even more violently. "What do you want me to do, Bin?" I asked resignedly. "I want to…." Binar did not continue his sentence. He just quietly leaned against the balcony window, looking at me intently. I looked back at him, and I read what seemed to be coming next. "Don't! Please… don't leave me, Bin…"