About the Heart

Do you think I'm craving you?

The pink box still caught my attention. Wonder what it is? Maybe not just want to know what is in it but curious about the figure behind the giver, Mr. Aryan. The man who was present as an online driver, in the end I know as someone I can not underestimate. A true friend holds a feeling.

He taught me how love is not just me loving you and I have to get you by all means. However, he presents the love of his life as a source of happiness. Happy with the way to release me happy with the people I love. A happiness I find hard to understand but worth appreciating.

No one can choose who love will bring down his feelings. So, I also could not possibly drop the death sentence for his love for me. I also do not need to impose a sentence of confinement on his love because he himself has imprisoned the taste in the cells of friendship. Let his love grow until his time is up and he will be able to freely breathe happily with another love.

I slowly opened the box that made me curious since the office. Even the insistent Maya asked me to open it, I ignored. A white color that refracts the shine, attracts my eyes. I touched it and I felt how soft and smooth it was on the surface of my skin. Is this mulberry silk fabric that is famous for its beauty? Soon I reach for a tool that can help me contact this beauty giver.

"Sir, the gift from the Father is so beautiful, I think, I do not deserve it" I said.

"You are the right owner for the cloth, don't be rejected!" obviously Mr. Aryan.

"Father can give this cloth to sister or Mother Father" I suggested.

"The woman I have, only you," he said.

Meanin?

Is Mr Aryan an only child who has lost his mother? Is it because of that, he said his life was monotonous all along? Did he lack the love of a woman until when I came to offer friendship, he was immediately carried away?

"I'm sorry, sir," that's all I can say.

"You don't have to apologize, I'm not someone you need to feel sorry for" Mr. Aryan said.

"So, what should I say, sir?" ask me to dampen the atmosphere that turns awkward.

"You're thankful enough for me, how?" bargained for.

"It seems, you are not sincere with this gift, you are just expecting praise from me," I continued.

"Rosa, you should never doubt the sincerity I have given you. Either this gift, especially my feelings for you," said Mr. Aryan.

This conversation should be stopped immediately. Otherwise, it will encroach on other lands and will inflame the fire of danger. "Thank you Mr. Aryan, for every sincerity you have given me. May they be returned with happiness. Aamiin ... Good night, sir, Assalamualaikum." And I finally ended that conversation.

*****

I fold back a silk gift from Mr. Aryan. Put it back in the box and keep it that's what I did. Let this be a sweet memory of my youth from him.

The new time of 20:00 has not made me intend to immerse myself in my subconscious.

If this is the case, then the most exciting thing I do is enjoy the television broadcast.

Night events dominated by soap operas or talk shows did not catch my attention. What makes my spirit back burning is watching local football, the highest caste match of the Indonesian league has only run half a season. It just so happens that tonight my favorite team is playing. Clubs from the island of the gods are scrambling for value with club owners of nekat bondo supporters from the provincial capital in east Java.

"Sir, look Nadeo looks a lot like you, same Mas Dion?" said Kristy noticed the handsome goalkeeper of the national team who was defending the club from the Island of the Gods.

We are both a small part of the female fans of this sport of footwork. But we are not connoisseurs of foreign leagues, we are a circle of women who love local products. For me and Kristy watching the Indonesian league is more exciting because the sweet face typical of the archipelago can spoil our eyes throughout the game.

"Dion times are like nadeo," I confirmed.

Kristy was busy chewing on the clanting while continuing to crackle. "Everyone, Ma'am, who is clear Nadeo Argawinata and Mas Dion Wijaya are both handsome. Ma'am, where is Mas Dion?"

"Father? Dion found me" I kept focused on the handsome keeper who was beginning to tease with a melt of sweat on his body.

"Ow ... That nadeo patty, make me a clamp," Kristy's mocking.

"Get up, Kris, really handsome. I'm falling in love, "I'm going crazy.

It is true that the saying that love can make the actor forget the whole world. My preoccupation and Kristy enjoying the beauty of Nadeo, has made Kristy ignore the ringing phone that has been voiced many times. I was not bothered by his screams either.

"Your hp sounds, tuh, Kris!" remember Mama who happened to pass the family room.

"Let's go, Ma. It's exciting, yes" replied Kristy.

Mama took Kristy's HP lying just about on the carpet. "Your mom, that phone."

"Let's go, Ma! Definitely nyariin Mbak Rosa, tuh," pinta Kristy.

"Yes, Di," I still focus on Nadeo Argawinata who is also focused on driving the ball from the penalty kick of the opposing team.

"You guys, what else, honey? I called from earlier not picked up," grumbled Dion.

"Nadeo's playing, Di," I replied briefly.

"For him again, continue, I'm you're cuekin?" Dion is jealous of Nadeo for the umpteenth time.

"Great-looking, Di," I said.

"Yes, you were satisfied with him!" break Dion.

Tut-tut-tut!

Cuey!

I focused my eyes on the television. The remaining match time is five minutes of normal time, I'm not willing to pass it by. Dion I can still call later but Nadeo won't be waiting for me anytime soon. Let my beloved be second for a moment.

"Ye .. win! Nadeo, i lopyu," Kristy cheered as Nadeo's team managed to get 3 points for the game tonight.

The nadeo?

Dion's?

My memory instantly paints a visual of my beloved who must be heartbroken. I prefer Nadeo to him.

I left Kristy still faithful looking at Nadeo on the television screen. My steps, slowly leaving the living room and climbing the stairs to get to my room on the second floor. The door of the minimalist room I opened and immediately I took HP lying on the nightstand. I immediately touched the owner of my heart.

"Darling ...," I said after seeing her flat face.

Dion still did not show his smile. "Hmm."

"Anged?" my ask while putting on his blankets face.

"I'm prettier than him, why do you ignore me and choose him?" said jealous.

"You're far away, honey, while she's in plain sight" I explained in a spoiled smile.

"You, 'that's now? So, my eyes are far away and you keep singing that fast. Pantesan this morning you two were with Aryan," said Dion.

"Kok, Mr Aryan, anyway, Di? I'm talking about Nadeo, "I'm getting sultry with Dion's blind jealousy.

"You're beating me up" Dion's verdict.

I took a deeper breath, trying not to be provoked by his jealousy. "If I wanted to, I wouldn't just be yelling at you, Di."

"Who? Aryans? Rud?" Dion looked at me sharply.

Dion's overpowering eyes were staring at me, making me unable to return his gaze for long. It's not that I lost and admitted what he was accused of. But continuing to look at him would instill a thought if I challenged him.

"Did you admit what I said, honey?" enragedly.

Wrong again, right? Silence is wrong, especially if I dispute it. Dion was rarely like this, letting out his emotions at me. All I remember is that he got mad at me when I asked him about Mas Rud he just beat up and also when he was jealous of Mr. Aryan. And now he's mad at me for the two of them.

"Aren't you the one who let me go with Mr. Aryan? You were also the one who accompanied me to visit Mas Rud. Did you see me play with them?" i reminded.

"You're making me jealous, shouldn't I be angry about that?" ask Dion.

"Which part makes you jealous, Di?" I kept trying to soften my voice.

"You're too considerate of them" Dion said.

I looked at her soft eyes. "I'm just thankful that he helped my life. He got shot because of me. That was yesterday, why do you have problems now?"

Arggh!

Dion ruffled his hair, his face did not escape the sweep of his palms. "Continue thanking her until you are satisfied, until she takes control of your heart again, but don't blame me if you come back crying for it."

My patience has reached its peak. "Why do you say that, do you think I still want it that deep? I tried my best to blow it because of you, but why don't you understand it?"

My tears have fallen unbearably. My heart is so overcast because of his accusations. However, I tried to control my heart to be able to speak to him. "If you still think so, fine, we re-correct our relationship. I can't relate to people who don't trust me."

I hung up on me. It felt like my heart was so tired, tired from trying to ignore the call of another heart. But the heart I fought for accused me of being playful.

Why didn't he call me back? Why didn't he try to persuade me? Why did he just shut up when I decided to re-correct this relationship? Wh why?