Heart Fragment

Pura-Pura Wife Candidates

As agreed yesterday. The girl, who eventually introduced herself as Nayla, officially became my pretender wife. Even the feenya I gave at the beginning. Hopefully he doesn't deny it. Because the payment requested is quite expensive. He matre once.

Oh, Mamah. Forgive your son. At least for a moment, I can breathe. Although I know, this is all wrong.

"So, when is that girl coming home?" Mom opened her voice. Since then, I have tried to ignore every question. Come on, why the rush to get me married.

"Later in the afternoon," I replied casually while playing a game of worms that were fat, anxious.

"Good." I heard Mamah's voice a little relieved. Her hand gently caressed my head hair.

"What's wrong, Mah?" I changed position. Choosing to wake the head from the lap of mamah. Sit right next to him. Not because I lost, but it looks like my mom wants to talk seriously.

Actually, my worms had reached the weight of two million, he was also partying enjoying the death of small worms that were wrapped in his circle. But the look in my old woman's eyes hinted at something. So let it be, the worm I'm willing to die first.

"Your mother wants to come here" he said. For a moment I thought, what kind of good response I would give.

"Oh good dong, Mas Rahman same Mbak Rani want to come here. All know Devan's future wife," my timpalku finally full of enthusiasm. Pretending to lie to yourself, because like there is something squeaky in the heart, every time I hear the name of my girl, must be peppered with the frills of "Mbak" in front of her.

Mamah looked at me. His two shady black beads, still hinting at the doubts there. Like thinking of something.

Well, after my departure from Surabaya, it was not necessarily able to throw out the existing memory. Bitter memories still dominated, leaving deep wounds. Until the former remains captive, in a dark heart.

The last news, I heard that Mas Rahman was also his wife and son who chose to live independently. No longer living with the son of a bitch and the girl of his bitch.

Mama and I have a good relationship with Mas Rahman. Although there is a wounded side of the heart, but I can regain my mama's rights as well for her efforts. Sad not me? either it is good from the heart or just pretend because it is clearly remembered the services of Mas Rahman all this time.

"You still don't believe Devan? Look at your son now. There is no longer any shadow of the past." I tried to convince mama. I clasped his two hands that looked wrinkled. Mom, still thinks I can't move on. In fact, I haven't been able to move on. Just pretend that it managed to move on. Ah, gibbuhlah. Confused!

Both eyes began to dew. The clear water will soon be out of there. Please, don't cry. I'm happy to be with Mom.

"Or, you want to, Devan got married when Rani's mom was here?"

Ah, crap! I'm flabbergasted. Why give hope away from wishful thinking. Even this sentence, just darted away without me being able to control it. Just for the sake, so as not to slide the tears belonging to mamah.

And it's true. I saw my eyes perfectly round. Shocked to be happy like that. He nodded his head many times. How happy he was to hear it. Even the happy twinkle, had already read clearly in both of his eyes.

Holy hooch! Me, and the butterflies that night?! Nooooo!

If only I could get back the words that just came out of my mouth. But the same, like giving a hard blow in the heart of mamah.

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"Assalamualaykum, Ma'am." Someone's voice forced me to look up. After waiting long enough, struggling with my coking game.

My eyes widened, to see who was now in front of me. A girl in a light blue hood. With a flower brooch made of cloth, as I often saw in the mama's room.

The girl had a round face, had a taper chin with a small nose as well as both clear brown eyeballs. The petals are covered with eyebrows that are not too thick, but very neatly arranged. Her lips were a natural pink color. As per the agreement, I forbid her to dress up.

He pulled a line of smiles, showing his row of white teeth also curled up on the left. Same as me. His facial skin is clean, typical of parahyangan girls. Why, is she so pretty? And Gosh! she was the butterfly girl that night? Why did I just realize it?

"Mas," he said again. Successfully disperse the mind that had floated. Hopefully he does not realize, if from earlier I judge the sculpture engraved on his face.

He looks very different from yesterday. Or maybe, only now did I really notice his face. Why, my heart started beating like this. On her, the night butterfly girl who must have often touched men. Suddenly, a feeling of disgust approached.

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Clink spoon and fork clashing. Mom enjoyed the food, and so did Nayla. The two of them, even though they first met why it was also as if there was chemistry built up there. Mamah's attitude was very open to her, making me feel uncomfortable. There are two feelings combined in one circumstance. First, I was relieved to believe that Nayla was my future wife. Second, worry because I know what I'm doing is a mistake.

What if you know the truth? Especially if you know that the girl is a comfort woman.

"So, when did you get married?" Mom opened her voice. "Don't be delayed for long, not good" he continued.

I looked at Nayla, the girl would not dare to answer.

"Quickly!" Reply firmly.

"Uhukkk." Nayla coughed. He looked at me with a questionable look. I gave her a code to keep her quiet when she poured him a glass of water.

Maybe the girl was surprised. Because this is beyond our agreement. Even I only promised her for a week to be my pretended wife.

I gave him a gesture again, flickering so he could understand. "Dad, Mah. Soon," Nayla responded.

Let it be, later I can figure out how to go ahead. There is no way we will get married soon. Later when the time comes, back I will convolve, looking for new reasons so that we do not get to do the sacred event.

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A relationship that starts with dishonesty will certainly have a bad impact. My relationship with Nayla is not okay. That is to say, our theatrical relationship is not really good. Mamah was too happy, to tell the big family in Bandung that I was getting married. Worse yet, the girl refused to continue her charade. Perhaps it was also because mamah was too urgent, for Nayla to show her identity. Where the girl lives, who her parents are, her background, her education. I thought so, but hopefully not.

Nayla is still staring. He was reluctant to bribe the food in front of him, preferring to play the spoon and fork that was lying next to him.

"Come on, just for a second, tomorrow there's Uwa and Aunt at home." I try to persuade.

"But, sorry. It's too far away" he lamented with a frown.

"Are you uncomfortable?" many ensure. Recalling before returning home yesterday, Mamah sniffed out a lot of her personal information.

"I can't, Mom. It's beyond our agreement" he said.

"meaning?"

"I feel guilty, Mom. Especially Mamah Mas Devan," he explained while looking straight at me. I tried to spy, diving into the brown beads of his two eyes. Whether he was pretending, or completely sincere from his heart.

Damn, my eyes are locked. Caught in there, with a soft beat in the chest that slowly accompanies the do not know themselves.

"What's? A sin?" I drew a smile line to the left. Shaking the head repeatedly. It turns out he still has a conscience. Isn't selling yourself far more sinful than this?

"Rather than selling yourself?" sindirku.

Nayla's eyes widened, her eyebrows twitched together. Nanar he looked towards me. Both of his eyes began to dew. He then bit his lower lip, holding back the tears in his eyes from falling. Why am I following sad?

"I did sell myself, but not to be insulted either, Mas!" Nayla snapped with a trembling voice. He stood up, hurriedly left me in the cafe. The place where we have agreed, to continue how the fate of the charade is going forward. But it ended like this.

Was my word wrong? Isn't his job like that, he should be used to it.

"Nay, wait!" I shouted while running after him. Can be more runyam if he does not want to continue this charade. At least until my brother comes. It's been three years without each other. I want to show that I can move on from him. Come on, for the ex.