Just a Bond

Stay strong, Najwa

Still in the room, I sat myself in bed. I leaned my back on the couch, then rested my chin on my knees folded in front of my chest. Sighing slowly then closing my eyes for a moment, I massage my temples because it feels dizzy.

It's exhausting my life. Mas Farhan's life is really emotionally draining.

Sometimes, I think about withdrawing from this fight. After all, I am an ordinary human being. Can be tired when what is fought does not materialize. However, when the feeling slipped, the shadows of the faces of Father, Mother and Father who look very happy after marriage we held filled the brain space. Given how cheerful they are, how excited they are to ask their future future future future generations, can I bear with them?

Then the realization that it must not be just me who has been in this phase also helps strengthen. The belief that God would not give this test to me if I could not play a part in giving an injection of spirit. After all, there are things I should be grateful for from Mas Farhan's attitude. Even if he didn't accept me from the beginning, but backwards, his attitude gradually improved. He can put in position. I realized that when he was with Dad and Mas Reza. And I really hope it will be one indication that one day he will change. Hope so.

"Your salami 'alaikum."

The greeting call from outside the house diverted me from all sorts of thoughts scattered in the brain since the departure of Mas Farhan.

Justifying the position of the veil back, then looking briefly at the look on the face in the small mirror beside the bed, I then moved to get out of the room. There was no sign of someone appearing just after the greeting call was heard. Mas Reza must be resting. Because when I saw the wall clock in front of the room, it showed at 13:00. Just deserve. Dad must be the same. And Mas Farhan, I don't know.

Taking a deep breath for a while, I stepped in fast enough to open the door, recognizing whose voice was coming. It was the voice of Mas Gibran, my first brother. As I answered the greeting from inside, I opened the door.

My face slowly beamed as I first opened the door, the face of Madam Diva I found.

"Hey, when did you get here, brother?"

My smile broke when my brother-in-law first greeted me with a warm greeting. The thirty-five-year-old woman hugged me for a while, just like we did when we met.

"Just arrived, Ma'am."

"Owalaah. Last morning Ma'am called Reza, said you haven't left yet."

"The journey here is not too far, Ma'am. Mas Farhan also left very early so no jams stuck."

Mbak Diva just got a beard responding to my sentence just now.

"Oh, yes. Where is Gibran, Ma'am? Ma'am Diva same Mas Gibran brought Nayla and Sheila?"

"Yes, Brother. Masmu again in the car, wake them up the same take things too."

"Yang, help dong. This weight!" The sound was from Mas Gibran. My eyes turned to look at my brother who was standing near the trunk of his car. The black-skinned man with a little beard on his chin looked troubled carrying their luggage.

"Well, tuh. The man was screaming."

Me and Ms. Diva laughed softly. Mas Gibran is a type of man who is independent from childhood. Same with Mas Reza. However, since marriage, there are only behaviors that said Mbak Diva likes to make blood rise and seem nosy. As it is now, spoiled. I can lift my own things.

"Mas, don't let me, deh," said Mbak Diva.

"Not lebay, Yang. This is real, lo. Help, yes, my dear."

My laughter broke from seeing the interaction between the two of them. Moreover, seeing the expression of Mbak Diva who was singing lips, when Mas Gibran even winked at his wife like a striped nose man. Uh. Even so, my brother-in-law stepped closer to my brother who was then grabbed a bag that was held by Mas Gibran.

"It's been driven, the time is still being told to bring this, anyway, Yang?"

My sister-in-law sighed softly. "Mas, it has become a duty of the husband ready to be on standby for his wife."

And I can only bite the lower lip, and the bedside of a display statue witnessed the beauty of the two people who love each other. Both are very harmonious. Even at the age of marriage they are no longer new. There were already two children present in the middle of the two. However, the household conditions of Mbak Diva and Mas Gibran seem more harmonious.

I was still standing in front of the door, watching the successful romantic scene burn the crown.

"Mariju." Mbak Diva twisting eyeballs.

"Marijuana equals own wife does not sin, Yang."

Again I bit my lower lip looking at that friendly scene. It could melt me, if it continues to be heated like this. I just want to go, but not delicious. Later there I was thought to be reluctant to welcome their arrival. Ish, what the hell.

Their luggage - one suitcase, one carry-on bag and two boxes that I don't know what they contain - was already perched near me. But I was still busy watching Mbak Diva and Mas Gibran's activities that wanted to wake Nayla and Sheila in the car.

"Aw!"

I bought eyes hearing Mbak Diva's screams. I hurried to the woman. Mas Gibran who went to the left side door hurriedly approached his wife.

"Why, Yang?"

Mas Gibran's face was panicked. Sort of, he grabbed the hand of Mbak Diva who turned out to be accidentally wedged by the door when he would wake up Syeila who slept on the right side bench.

"Take care, Yang." Mas Gibran blew his fingers slowly Mbak Diva, while rubbing it slowly. Maybe some of you will argue that Mas Gibran's attitude is excessive, lebay and all kinds. But for me who is not used to such scenes ....

Uh, what a concern for my brother on that one, my God. If Mas Farhan had done the same with Mas Gibran ....

I sighed slowly. Let alone small things like accidentally wedged in the door, quite crucial things like my feelings, Mas Farhan like not caring. And in the end it comes back to that lamentation. How appalling.

"Isn't he sick?" Mas Gibran's voice distracts me from thinking about my husband. I saw him looking up, staring at Mbak Diva.

"No, my mom." The relief that emanated from Mas Gibran's face also brought relief in my heart.

"Syeila's up yet, Yang?"

"Yet. That I've woken up from earlier, even more comfortable sleeping with the mother."

My sister-in-law is Nayla. So, Nayla's eldest son and Sheila's his sister. Why even talk about it, anyway. But no problem, anyway. Just information. Who knows if someone is curious. My brain, God. The more not a rumble. This must be because I am envious to see the intimacy of my brother and sister-in-law.

Em ... patience, Najwa. Stay strong, and keep fighting. Hopefully one day you can feel noticed by the person you really love.

Mas Gibran was so painstaking. She woke her two children up gently.

"Lo, is Gibran here?"

...***...

Salamu 'alaikum wa rahmatullah wa barakatuh. How are you all doing? Sorry, yes. I haven't updated in a long time. Hixes. I'm sick, I like to lack focus in writing. Sorry, yes. Pray that I will be healthy so I can continue this story again. Thank ye.

Don't forget the likes, votes and comments, yes.

Sweet greetings from the sweet author.

Sumenep, Madura, East Java

Thursday, 8 July 2021