About the Heart

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"Darling, have breakfast! Read it later again," Dion recalled in a slightly high tone.

This is his third warning. I don't know, because of the preoccupation with the story about Daniah, I denied it. Ignore Dion's talk and keep stealing ways to keep reading. I held the smart thing in my left hand, while my right hand held the spoon.

The smile I showed Dion. Actually I wanted to be a sweet wife, but the temptation of what I read was also so high. So I fell into the same hole many times. Ignoring Dion's warning and rereading.

The sound of the apartment bell ringing as Dion was about to remind me again, became my savior this time. My husband chose to move from his seat and hurried to open the door. Not yet aware, the online novel I still read.

"Gee, breakfast is not a share" said Mr. Aryan while taking my flat object and put it in his pocket.

The grunts that I was ready to throw, I had to undo. Considering I had Dion hired, I knew not to fight with my brother. I just glared at Mr. Aryan sitting right across from me. He just lifted both his shoulders a sign of not knowing.

"Rosa, what do you want with me, all right?" ask Mr. Aryan while eating the breakfast that Dion prepared.

"I'll be home until the afternoon. So, I'm anther. Later he will come home with you," said Dion by commenting on his smile.

I feel like a big lady. There was a man ready to drop off and pick me up when I left. One brother and one beloved husband. How happy to be me. That is, indeed I feel if Goddess Fortuna sided with Rosalia.

"Well, call me if there's anything I need to help you with."

"Help me notice him in the office eating a blind paycheck" Dion told me but in a chat with Mr. Aryan.

"You guys fighting?" ask Mr. Aryan to the point.

The man who had patented himself as our brother, alternately threw a glance at me and Dion. As if he was looking for answers to questions that he already knew what the answer was. He casually continued chewing until all was swallowed. "I've counseled your wife, but she seems wayward."

Kupelototti the Abang. The threat he really runs. He who used to be my defender is now fighting back. The two of these men if again feuding then I am the cause. If I get along, I'll be their victim. So, which one did I choose?

"He reads without knowing the time."

Indeed, but do you know darling if reading is like opium. The more fun it will be the more addictive. Ignoring time and even important people around you. Reading brings us to a world of perfect hygiene.

"Sorry, Mas. The world of pestle is very exciting," I asked in a salty tone.

"Is my love still less than making you shy?"

I got up from my seat and stood next to him. "It's not so, Mom."

"Bikin' a novel, Sa! To channel your acute genitalia," said Mr. Aryan who disturbed my artistic soul.

"I agree. Writing is not your hobby since long ago. Now it's time for you to hone again" said Dion eagerly, forgetting that he was in a state of rage.

My mind is testing their advice. Toying with words was indeed a skill that I had forgotten for years. The hobby that I realized since the sixth grade of SD, I once aggressively channeled when ABG. It's nice to make a short story that takes inspiration from the familiar monkey love story piece that stopped in my heart.

"But I'm not PD."

Dion put his hand on my stomach. He slowly pulled my body down into his lap. "Your writing is character, honey. Your short story titled "Striker Sucks" feels very deep. The excitement of a girl because chased by a guy who has a hobby of playing ball.

Eits, wait! That was the short story I made during Junior High. Inspired by a man who relentlessly chased me. Survive despite always getting rejected. You know who that guy is? Of course, Dion. Who else?

"Why can you read a short story, then?" search me with squinting eyes.

Dion pinched my nose. "Did you forget that the short story was like a rotating trophy? Switching from one hand to the other. Even brought your boyfriend that they didn't even read. Just for the sake of being able to get close to you, they can do it all."

I scrunched my forehead. "really?"

"Of course, right. Because one of those men is me." Dion pinched my nose. "I read it, so I know the story."

I smile awkwardly. Start to understand which way this conversation will lead. Dion was talking about a story I wrote about him. I threw my eyes away from seeing it. I'm shy. I didn't think my story could be read at all.

"I'll go first, aja. It seems like the romantic scene is about to begin. Brother Aryan is not old enough yet," the seductive Pak Aryan got up from the chair and immediately waltzed away.

Ignoring Mr. Aryan's silly remarks, we continued the chat. It's true what Mr. Aryan thinks, we're getting spoiled. Dion stroked my hair and repeatedly touched my nose. Remembering that story is nostalgic. The memory of Dion's struggle was only at the starting point of three years.

"I support you, my dear. Instead of reading, you better write. Because your talent is too valuable for you to waste, just."

I think so too. But I still feel confident. Just writing, I am sure I can. But didn't the pen have any knowledge?

"You can do it, baby!" Dion keeps giving me encouragement.

I who initially doubted, long time to be encouraged. Dion's support keeps me pumped back into that world I've long abandoned. An idea suddenly came. Yeah, I'm gonna tell you a story that's gonna be history.

I'll find my smart thing soon. Unfortunately, I didn't find it. Didn't I wear it to read? Then, where now? My mind is focused on remembering. Oh yeah, I just remembered.

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

In a hurry, I set foot into the room of a manager I knew very well. Confirming his presence to the secretary, I entered the room without knocking on the door. Stand across the table with his hands up.

Mr. Aryan who was busy with a pile of paper in front of him immediately stopped his finger movement to affix the signature. His gaze he lifted right up on my ugly face. He stood up from his seat. Slightly stepped up and then chose to sit on the edge of his desk.

"What?" she asked, not knowing what I wanted. Though I'm sure he knew clearly that I wanted to take back something he had taken.

"My cellphone."

Mr. Aryan took something out of his shirt pocket. "Eat him don't be so reckless."

"Hm."

"So, do you want to make a novel?" asked Mr. Aryan next as I was about to step away.

I had to stop the step and turn a little body to face it. "Maybe."

"I think you're a perfect writer for a romantic novel. Your experience can be made into a story. Let alone Dion, your husband's the barn of romantic sentences."

The idea glow instantly shone brightly in my brain. Mr. Aryan's words opened up a story hallway I wanted to write. The story of a long journey finds a bright end in the frame of feeling. About a Heart that will not pull over even though a winding road full of rocks gets in the way.

"Thank you, Brother. Because of you I found the idea of my novel story," I said with a big smile.

"Present me as the guardian angel of the female lead, yes! Nitip figure," said Mr. Aryan while slowly scrambling my hair.

"Not the main character, is it?" godaku while raising an eyebrow.

"Let Dion be the main character. I'm happy enough to be a guardian angel."

"Curhat, Bang?" sindirku while turning his body and stepping away. Leaving Mr. Aryan who was smiling to hear my words.

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Loyal readers About the Heart, also stop by my new novel.

The title does make sebel, but believe me if the content is not like most stories.

"I, The Actor" a new novel that tells the story of the Abused Bullies Woman.