He was as good as his word and most

He was as good as his word and mostly left her alone to listlessly browse around the upmarket boutiques in the very high end shopping mall that he had driven her to. She had the first ten minutes away from him to buy the pregnancy kits, six of them, all different brands (who knew there were so many choices available?), just in case he changed his mind about leaving her alone but surprisingly he did nothing but constantly call or text her to be sure she was okay and didn’t need him but that got rather tedious after the tenth text message in forty minutes and the fifth call in an hour and a half. In the end, she simply told him she was done shopping and he suggested they meet up and head to a restaurant for lunch.
The upscale restaurant was obviously one Sandro often patronised so, even though it was lunch time on a Saturday afternoon and the place was exceedingly popular, they were seated immediately. Theresa watched the staff fawn all over him and bitterly wondered if he had brought any other women here. The suspicion was confirmed, when the waiter turned to her with a slight smirk.
“And what will the lady be ordering today?” He asked in that supercilious manner that servers in upmarket restaurants often had.
“Your Caesar salad, no dressing, toast and water,” she ordered brusquely.
“And have you decided on a main course yet?” He asked with that annoying smirk.
“That would be it,” she responded shortly, his smug attitude was really grating on her nerves.
“Theresa,” Sandro leaned forward in concern. “You didn’t have breakfast; you need to eat something more substantial than just salad.”
“I’m really not that hungry,” she shrugged dismissively, handing the thick leather-bound menu back to the waiter. “Please just let it go.”
“If you’re on some crazy diet…”
“I’m not on a diet!” She snapped. “Just, please, stop trying to manipulate every single aspect of my life!” His jaw clenched and his lips thinned in obvious anger but surprisingly enough he let it go before proceeding to order a staggering amount of food from the waiter. Once they were alone, he leaned back in his chair and stared at her thoughtfully.
“Seriously,” he began after a long silence, which she had stubbornly refused to break. “What’s going on with you?” She gaped at him, unable to believe the stupidity of that question and he lowered his eyes, apparently realising that himself.
“Aside from the obvious,” he qualified. “And try to keep the sarcasm down to a minimum.”
“Well aside from the obvious fact that I’m unhappy with my life as it is right now,” she shrugged. “I can’t say that there’s much going on with me.”
“You’re lying to me,” he sounded so incredulous at that fact that she actually laughed in genuine amusement. “Are you having an affair?”
“Back to that are we?” She was laughing even harder now. “Sandro, not everybody stoops to infidelity when things aren’t going right in their lives.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He sounded outrageously offended and leaned toward her, all affronted, bristling male.
“Oh come on, Sandro, you know what it means!”
“No I don’t, do enlighten me,” he invited sarcastically.
“It means,” she spoke with exaggerated and offensive slowness. “That I’m not the one who has been having the affairs. It means that I had the misguided notion that the sacred marriage vows we took were just that, sacred vows. It means that I’m not the one who deliberately set out to hurt and humiliate my spouse as publicly and as painfully as possible.”
“I admit that I did some things to deliberately hurt you… in a misguided attempt to punish you for a situation that wasn’t your fault,” he began carefully.
“How magnanimous of you to admit that,” she interrupted sarcastically.
“You were misled into believing that I… loved you,” he ignored her interruption. “I was misled into believing you were…”
“Your drinks,” the waiter’s smooth voice interrupted the first really meaningful exchange they’d had on the subject and Sandro slanted him an annoyed look before gritting his teeth and waiting in fulminating silence for the man to finish. When the waiter finally left, Sandro turned his gaze back on her.
“I thought you knew about your father’s scheme, I thought you were fully on board with it,” he admitted softly.
“What exactly is my father’s ‘scheme’?” She asked carefully, wary of being shot down again.
“He owned something that I desperately wanted and the only way he would let me have it was if I paid a huge amount of money for it and then married you.”
“I see,” she dropped her gaze to the intricately folded napkin on the table in front of her and traced her fingers lightly over the folds. “So, in essence, you paid an exorbitant sum for this mysterious something you so desperately wanted, with me tossed in as your unwanted free gift?”
“I had no choice, to get what I wanted; I had to accept you as part of the deal... I thought…” his voice tapered off and he shrugged miserably.
“You flattered yourself into thinking that I was fully cognisant of this scheme and that I was so desperate to have you, I would have my daddy blackmail you into marrying me?” He nodded reluctantly. “Well you got what you wanted and since it’s obvious that we’re both miserable in this sham of a marriage why won’t you give me that divorce?” She continued to probe, desperately hoping that he couldn’t tell how much actually hearing this confession hurt her.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I think your father knew that we would both eventually want out of this ‘sham’,” he spat out the word almost distastefully. “So he added a little clause into the contract.”
This was it... Theresa braced herself for what she knew was coming.
“Clause?” She repeated the word faintly and Sandro cleared his throat uncomfortably.
“Your father...” the waiter swooped in with great flair and began to offload a tray of food onto their table. Sandro muffled a curse beneath his breath, while he waited with barely concealed impatience for the younger man to finish.
“Will there be anything else?”
“No!” he barked, keeping his voice low and menacing. The poor man gulped and beat a hasty retreat. Theresa barely registered the interaction between the two men, her horrified gaze pinned onto the gastronomical feast Sandro had ordered. Pastas, pies, fish, meat, vegetables all laid out in front of her revolting senses.
“Theresa?” Sandro’s voice seemed to come from miles away. “What’s wrong?”
“So much food,” she said sickly, feeling in danger of losing the precious little she already had in her stomach.
“I thought we could share,” he admitted.
“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” she flared weakly, angry that he expected her to fall victim to yet another one of his manipulations.
“It doesn’t tempt you? Not even a little?” he lifted his fork and stuck it into the closest dish, some kind of cheese bake and lifted it toward her lips. Theresa could feel her gorge rise and jerked her head back abruptly.
“No!” He lowered the fork and glared at her in outraged bewilderment.
“What the hell is going on with you? Are you on some insane hunger strike?” She laughed unsteadily.
“That’s what prisoners do, isn’t it? When they want to make a statement about the unjustness of their imprisonment, they go on a hunger strike,” she laughed again, immediately aware of the edge of hysteria in her voice.
“You’re not serious?” He seemed to think she was though and for some reason that both saddened and amused her.
“I’m not hungry,” she maintained wearily. “It’s really as simple as that… please finish what you were saying about that clause.” He looked frustrated but seemed to recognise that she would not budge on the issue.
“Basically, we have an out…” he began slowly. “We give him a grandson and we can divorce without any repercussions.” She’d thought she was ready for it but hearing him put it so bluntly took the wind clear out of her sails and it took her a couple of moments to recover from it.
“An out,” she repeated hoarsely. “Every single time you touched me, every time that’s all you ever thought about, wasn’t it? Getting out?” She laughed bitterly. “And how diligently you worked towards your goal… so often and so very thoroughly.”
“Theresa,” he whispered his voice alive with misery. Nothing more, just that, just her name. It was as if he recognised that nothing he could possibly say at that moment would make any difference to the pain she was feeling.
“My God,” she swiped at a few errant tears, furious with herself for allowing him to see them. “Every time you came you practically prayed for me to give you a son. That was the only thought in your mind, every single time… escape! At a time when most people can’t even remember their own names, you were begging me to give you a son because life with me was so incredibly unbearable for you.”
“It wasn’t you,” he interrupted lamely. “It was the situation.”
“So this son you so desperately wanted,” tried to keep her voice level, even while it cracked with strain. “You don’t really want him, I take it? He’s just a means to an end?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted uncomfortably.
“I mean, surely you wouldn’t want anything to do with a child spawned with a woman you despise and carrying the blood of a man you consider your enemy?”
“The child has never seemed real to me,” he murmured with brutal honesty. “I had some vague idea that you would have him and I’d move back to Italy afterwards. I never thought beyond that.”
“With a father who felt nothing for him, a mother who didn’t want to get pregnant and a megalomaniacal grandfather waiting in the wings, it’s probably best that the last one didn’t make it,” she concluded heartbrokenly.
“Don’t you ever say that,” Sandro suddenly snapped, one of his hands reaching out to enfold her tightly furled fists on the tabletop. “He would

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

He was as good as his word and mostly left her alone to listlessly browse around the upmarket boutiques in the very high end shopping mall that he had driven her to. She had the first ten minutes away from him to buy the pregnancy kits, six of them, all different brands (who knew there were so many choices available?), just in case he changed his mind about leaving her alone but surprisingly he did nothing but constantly call or text her to be sure she was okay and didn’t need him but that got rather tedious after the tenth text message in forty minutes and the fifth call in an hour and a half. In the end, she simply told him she was done shopping and he suggested they meet up and head to a restaurant for lunch.The upscale restaurant was obviously one Sandro often patronised so, even though it was lunch time on a Saturday afternoon and the place was exceedingly popular, they were seated immediately. Theresa watched the staff fawn all over him and bitterly wondered if he had brought any other women here. The suspicion was confirmed, when the waiter turned to her with a slight smirk.“And what will the lady be ordering today?” He asked in that supercilious manner that servers in upmarket restaurants often had.“Your Caesar salad, no dressing, toast and water,” she ordered brusquely.“And have you decided on a main course yet?” He asked with that annoying smirk.“That would be it,” she responded shortly, his smug attitude was really grating on her nerves."Theresa," Sandro membungkuk dalam keprihatinan. "Anda tidak memiliki Sarapan; Anda perlu makan sesuatu yang lebih besar daripada hanya salad.""Saya benar-benar tidak lapar," ia mengangkat bahu dismissively, menyerahkan menu kulit tebal kembali kepada pelayan. "Tolong biarkan saja.""Jika Anda pada beberapa diet gila...""Saya tidak Diet!" Ia tersentak. "Hanya, tolong, berhenti berusaha memanipulasi tiap-tiap aspek kehidupan saya!" Mengepalkan rahang beliau dan bibirnya menipis jelas kemarahan tapi mengejutkan cukup ia membiarkannya pergi sebelum melanjutkan untuk memesan makanan dalam jumlah yang mengejutkan dari pelayan. Setelah mereka adalah sendirian, ia bersandar di kursi dan menatapnya serius."Serius," ia mulai setelah lama berdiam diri, yang dia keras kepala menolak untuk istirahat. "Apa yang terjadi dengan Anda?" Dia menganga padanya, tidak bisa percaya kebodohan pertanyaan itu dan ia menurunkan matanya, tampaknya menyadari bahwa dirinya."Selain yang sudah jelas," ia memenuhi syarat. "Dan mencoba untuk menjaga sarkasme ke minimum.""Baik selain jelas fakta bahwa aku tidak bahagia dengan hidup saya seperti sekarang," ia mengangkat bahu. "Saya tidak bisa mengatakan bahwa ada banyak terjadi dengan saya.""Anda sedang berbohong kepada saya," ia terdengar begitu percaya pada fakta bahwa ia benar-benar tertawa di hiburan asli. "Apakah Anda memiliki berselingkuh?""Kembali ke bahwa apakah kita?" Dia tertawa sekarang bahkan lebih keras. "Sandro, tidak semua orang memekarkan perselingkuhan ketika segala sesuatu tidak berjalan benar dalam hidup mereka."“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” He sounded outrageously offended and leaned toward her, all affronted, bristling male.“Oh come on, Sandro, you know what it means!”“No I don’t, do enlighten me,” he invited sarcastically.“It means,” she spoke with exaggerated and offensive slowness. “That I’m not the one who has been having the affairs. It means that I had the misguided notion that the sacred marriage vows we took were just that, sacred vows. It means that I’m not the one who deliberately set out to hurt and humiliate my spouse as publicly and as painfully as possible.”“I admit that I did some things to deliberately hurt you… in a misguided attempt to punish you for a situation that wasn’t your fault,” he began carefully.“How magnanimous of you to admit that,” she interrupted sarcastically.“You were misled into believing that I… loved you,” he ignored her interruption. “I was misled into believing you were…”“Your drinks,” the waiter’s smooth voice interrupted the first really meaningful exchange they’d had on the subject and Sandro slanted him an annoyed look before gritting his teeth and waiting in fulminating silence for the man to finish. When the waiter finally left, Sandro turned his gaze back on her.“I thought you knew about your father’s scheme, I thought you were fully on board with it,” he admitted softly.“What exactly is my father’s ‘scheme’?” She asked carefully, wary of being shot down again.“He owned something that I desperately wanted and the only way he would let me have it was if I paid a huge amount of money for it and then married you.”“I see,” she dropped her gaze to the intricately folded napkin on the table in front of her and traced her fingers lightly over the folds. “So, in essence, you paid an exorbitant sum for this mysterious something you so desperately wanted, with me tossed in as your unwanted free gift?”“I had no choice, to get what I wanted; I had to accept you as part of the deal... I thought…” his voice tapered off and he shrugged miserably.“You flattered yourself into thinking that I was fully cognisant of this scheme and that I was so desperate to have you, I would have my daddy blackmail you into marrying me?” He nodded reluctantly. “Well you got what you wanted and since it’s obvious that we’re both miserable in this sham of a marriage why won’t you give me that divorce?” She continued to probe, desperately hoping that he couldn’t tell how much actually hearing this confession hurt her.“It’s a bit more complicated than that. I think your father knew that we would both eventually want out of this ‘sham’,” he spat out the word almost distastefully. “So he added a little clause into the contract.”This was it... Theresa braced herself for what she knew was coming.“Clause?” She repeated the word faintly and Sandro cleared his throat uncomfortably.“Your father...” the waiter swooped in with great flair and began to offload a tray of food onto their table. Sandro muffled a curse beneath his breath, while he waited with barely concealed impatience for the younger man to finish.“Will there be anything else?”“No!” he barked, keeping his voice low and menacing. The poor man gulped and beat a hasty retreat. Theresa barely registered the interaction between the two men, her horrified gaze pinned onto the gastronomical feast Sandro had ordered. Pastas, pies, fish, meat, vegetables all laid out in front of her revolting senses.“Theresa?” Sandro’s voice seemed to come from miles away. “What’s wrong?”“So much food,” she said sickly, feeling in danger of losing the precious little she already had in her stomach.“I thought we could share,” he admitted.“I told you I wasn’t hungry,” she flared weakly, angry that he expected her to fall victim to yet another one of his manipulations.“It doesn’t tempt you? Not even a little?” he lifted his fork and stuck it into the closest dish, some kind of cheese bake and lifted it toward her lips. Theresa could feel her gorge rise and jerked her head back abruptly.“No!” He lowered the fork and glared at her in outraged bewilderment.“What the hell is going on with you? Are you on some insane hunger strike?” She laughed unsteadily.
“That’s what prisoners do, isn’t it? When they want to make a statement about the unjustness of their imprisonment, they go on a hunger strike,” she laughed again, immediately aware of the edge of hysteria in her voice.
“You’re not serious?” He seemed to think she was though and for some reason that both saddened and amused her.
“I’m not hungry,” she maintained wearily. “It’s really as simple as that… please finish what you were saying about that clause.” He looked frustrated but seemed to recognise that she would not budge on the issue.
“Basically, we have an out…” he began slowly. “We give him a grandson and we can divorce without any repercussions.” She’d thought she was ready for it but hearing him put it so bluntly took the wind clear out of her sails and it took her a couple of moments to recover from it.
“An out,” she repeated hoarsely. “Every single time you touched me, every time that’s all you ever thought about, wasn’t it? Getting out?” She laughed bitterly. “And how diligently you worked towards your goal… so often and so very thoroughly.”
“Theresa,” he whispered his voice alive with misery. Nothing more, just that, just her name. It was as if he recognised that nothing he could possibly say at that moment would make any difference to the pain she was feeling.
“My God,” she swiped at a few errant tears, furious with herself for allowing him to see them. “Every time you came you practically prayed for me to give you a son. That was the only thought in your mind, every single time… escape! At a time when most people can’t even remember their own names, you were begging me to give you a son because life with me was so incredibly unbearable for you.”
“It wasn’t you,” he interrupted lamely. “It was the situation.”
“So this son you so desperately wanted,” tried to keep her voice level, even while it cracked with strain. “You don’t really want him, I take it? He’s just a means to an end?”
“I’ve never thought about it,” he admitted uncomfortably.
“I mean, surely you wouldn’t want anything to do with a child spawned with a woman you despise and carrying the blood of a man you consider your enemy?”
“The child has never seemed real to me,” he murmured with brutal honesty. “I had some vague idea that you would have him and I’d move back to Italy afterwards. I never thought beyond that.”
“With a father who felt nothing for him, a mother who didn’t want to get pregnant and a megalomaniacal grandfather waiting in the wings, it’s probably best that the last one didn’t make it,” she concluded heartbrokenly.
“Don’t you ever say that,” Sandro suddenly snapped, one of his hands reaching out to enfold her tightly furled fists on the tabletop. “He would