CHASING ILLUSIONS

PROLOGUES

     The moonlight crumbles befriended the familiar sheen of stars. The wind whispered softly, stroking the hair of a beautiful girl who was sitting on the porch of her house. His eyes looked at me to the clouds. His mood is uncertain. As usual, the girl felt something strange in her life.

     Lia Anindya Wulandari, or commonly called Anindya. A 19-year-old girl who is now a S1 student majoring in Indonesian literature.

      “What are you doing here, Anin?” ask a middle-aged woman. His footsteps stumbled closer to Anindya. Call it Rita, Anindya's biological mother.

      “Mother has not slept,” said Anindya while rising from her seat. She approached her mother and sat her mother in the chair she was sitting in.

The woman shook her head, “mother cannot sleep, Nak.”

“Mother should sleep. It's night, Ma'am.”

“You know it's night, ‘right? Then why haven't you slept yourself, son?” ask Rita.

“A .. I, I was waiting for big brother, Mom,” Anindya replied, a little lying to her mother.

Rita looked at her daughter. My eyes seemed to say don't lie to Anindya.

      “You know what you're thinking, Anin. Our problems are very hard, son. But we can't give up. Whatever happens, Anin, we have to deal with it. Don't blame anyone for anything. Everything that happens is his destiny, son. You must be able to accept it sincerely, while trying to make your life better,” said Rita. Anindya looked down at her mother's words. During this time, the girl complained a lot and blamed others. He knows that everything that happens is destiny. Destiny is written for his life

    Anindya nodded, “Iya, Bu.” The girl moved out of her place. Helping Rita stand up and then breaking her into the house.

***

     Anindya looked around her room. Perhaps, the room he now occupied was not as big and luxurious as his old room. He lives in a small contract. The girl's brown eyes were staring at a photo that was displayed in her room. The photo that made him fall into the hole of longing. Not only do you miss, but you hate. The girl's eyes turned to a doll on the side of her bed. It was the only memory of his father, whom he still guards.

       Scroll returned polishing the girl's face. No one knew, no one understood, about the wound that was embedded in his heart. Only he knows. No one understood that behind Anindya who always laughed, there was a cry that he hid. Seeing her mother's condition, the girl was determined not to want to be a weak woman. Likewise with Rafi, her brother who always comes home late at night, just to scavenge a mouthful of rice for her and her mother.

Anindya wiped her tears, “why has everything changed, Dad? Why did you leave us? What's our fault, Dad?” muttered the girl.

       “I don't know, Dad. But you should know. I always loved dad, although now half that feeling turns to hate.”

The girl walked towards her bed. Both of his hands tightly hugged the puppet his father had given him. Tears that he wiped, fell back polishing his cheeks. This time, Anindya had no interest in wiping away her tears. He wanted to let his cries spill without a sound in his sleep.

*****

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