Is There Another Love in Your Heart?

Diary

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“Mbak Saida where is her husband never seen? How to get here by yourself anyway?”

The question from Ms. Lasmi, the next door neighbor feels like a needle stuck right in my chest. My heart stopped beating. A very scary question. I finally heard today.

“Work out of town, Mom,” my word is smooth. Out of the blue the answer just slid away. Though not thought before. While holding so that the details on the eyelids do not drip.

“New bride already in stay. Why not come to, mbak?”

“And I lined up, Bu.” This guy.why do ya kepo with people's business.

“Lhaah mbak, if I mah mending follow husband. Later in the new place can also.”

Yes Rabb, it seems like this person is starting to digress. But if I'm angry instead he's cheering. He'll know what's going on. It seems he was intentionally mincing. I'd better react to it subtly and not be provoked. Even though the heart is boiling.

“Sorry Mom, excuse me. Help mom cook.”

Of course it was just my excuse to be able to avoid a woman who was a few years above me. ‘Basic bigos!’ rukkukku in the heart.

I rushed into the house. I looked out from behind the glass window, he was still looking at me with a strange look. It was fortunate that he could not see me while I could clearly see his movements outside. I'm shaking.

Although he was quite friendly with the neighbors, to me Miss Lasmi was very scary. No other because of his habit of being curious about people's affairs. Gossip mongers. Smooth talk. Smell but venomous. People like this are much more dangerous.

I rushed into the room. Immerse yourself in a pillow. Maybe tomorrow, the day after tomorrow and so on those questions will continue to haunt. The most frightening thing if Mom and Dad ask. I have to answer with what.

I'm staying at home tonight. After this afternoon I was tired of my kids. So I decided to spend the night. Tomorrow is a Sunday. My parents are so happy. They also asked if Zulfan had permission. I told you that Zulfan was in the cabin and had given permission. I had to lie.

Two more days of my boarding is over. Time to pay again. It feels that if you see the price is almost the same as my salary a month, I can not afford.means I have to find a new boarding place. In fact, if you just sleep, it's a pity that expensive. It is better to find a suitable hostel contents of the bag.

There are no friends I can care about. I want to lean on someone's shoulder. Spill all. But it's not possible. I don't want anyone else to know about this. Let me and God only know. No matter how painful it is. Until I can make peace with the situation.

Then one way to channel my emotions is to write a diary. My habit of Junior High is writing diaries. When I graduated from college I almost never did it again. Because they are busy with work. Right now I want to do it again. After writing it feels light. I began to unravel one by one the burden that had filled my chest. Yes, yes, writing it as a therapy for the soul. Monologue with yourself.

From today I familiarize myself with the diary. It has become a daily necessity. I started writing everything down. At the beginning of the page I wrote the title “After two weeks, my husband left without a message.” I don't feel my tears keep dripping nonstop. While my hands continued to dance, scratching the heart painting.

***

I don't know when this show will end. I'm actually fragile. I'm an ordinary woman. I was pretending to be strong. Pretending not why. The temptation that God sent me was very heavy. What God really wants from a weak servant like me.

I wrote down all my feelings in this pink diary. This diary has become my best friend. My place. I can't lie, sometimes there is a feeling of longing for my husband who is suddenly present.

Remembering when he teased me. His eyes are shady. I started to love her slowly. A feeling I have to keep away from now. Even his name wants me to erase in my memory. If could. Hypocritical men.

I am busy with work. There's no time to waste. When I am exhausted I can fall asleep immediately. That's what I want. No more thoughts for him. To me Zulfan is dead.

I am now actively writing articles again. Thank God last week my writing was posted in a leading daily. The honor I received was pretty good. It's not really the material that's my goal. But there is satisfaction when our work is displayed and can be read by many people. I'm very happy. This is the first time I have ever written in a national newspaper. Not expected to be loaded immediately.

Lesku students are growing. My rupiah coffers automatically follow. My house is no longer able to accommodate those who number hundreds. So I decided to rent a shop near the house. I also started recruiting new teachers. Now there are six teachers who help me teach in addition to one admin. Rism. A final semester student from a public university in Surabaya.

It seems that God replaced my test with another happiness. Achievement for achievement.

I am thankful to God. With my current busyness, slowly my sadness was forgotten. I started to smile back. Opening a new page. But when I was alone, the debris of the pain was still approaching.

Does time really heal wounds? Might as well. Many people experience it. I don't know what scenario God prepared for me. This heart wants to always learn to deal with His destiny.

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