Just a Bond

First Morning

The first morning with the status of being a wife, should be fun, right? In fact, maybe up to a month from the day of the wedding was held, the happiness of that status was still felt, until unknowingly a tinge of red hue appeared on the face. The early days are warm times of comfort with a partner. Still his passion fosters affection only for him alone. Isn't that how a newly married couple feels?

I remember when my first brother-Mas Gibran-beginning became a newlywed. In the past, he was reluctant to get out of the room, wanted to be with a partner continuously. To the extent that Mas Reza mocked the two like a chicken incubating eggs. Then Mas Gibran and Mbak Diva just responded to Mas Reza's teasing with a shy smile. Everywhere Mas Gibran must be with his wife. Fun, yeah.

However, in fact, what is experienced by others does not necessarily happen to us. Right now I feel like I'm waking up from a beautiful dream. I was awakened by a reality that seemed reprimanded not to be too high in expectations.

The first morning that should be impressive with a feeling of happiness that continues to flare up, instead changing the morning with a feeling of pain and sadness that continues to lengthen causing tightness in the chest. The morning where I should have stayed lingered in our bridal room, but it made me not want to be in it. Makes me have to look for other activities to divert the boredom, sadness, anger and disappointment that are united in the heart.

I still remember the attitude he showed me this morning.

"Mas, wait. I'm gonna have a good time, '" I said as I watched her come out of the bathroom. The bathroom in this house is only one. So, it has to alternate. It turned out that he was fully dressed, wearing white cocoa, black peci and matching coloured sarongs, but there was a combination of white lyrical. Honestly, I was fascinated by it.

Fuck the language I use. Because to me Mas Farhan is no one else. No problem, don't you think I use a less official language like him? Why talk about language, anyway. Ignore.

Not to answer, Mas Farhan looked at me for a long time. With a sharp look. "Tools themselves, can't they?" His voice sounds flat.

I sighed softly. "Mas, whatever if you don't want to assume I exist, I resigned. But please, allow me to be your prayer makmum." I stared at him expectantly. Really, this is one of the long-dreamed-about desires after having a partner. "By the merits of prayer"

"Five minutes haven't finished I'm staying."

I could see her response. I looked at his back that had left me with a sad look. Can't he be more fluid to me?

Not wanting to lose the opportunity to pray with her, I immediately entered the bathroom and purified myself. Truly, a pleasure that again I have to be grateful when I can stand in the defender, worship together with people who have secretly occupied the corner of the heart. A smile expands as my one wish can manifest this morning.

After performing the Fajr prayer, reading Zikr and Surah Yasin and putting the Qur'an in its place, I extended my hand to greet Mas Farhan like a married couple I used to see on television. However, realizing that my life was clearly different from what was shown on the electronic object, I had to swallow the disappointment again. I had to lament the unfortunate fate again, the moment where my hand just floated away, not being welcomed by the person I wanted to experience. He got up from his place of prayer, then folded the prayer mats as if he had not seen what I was doing, then changed his clothes and hurriedly walked out of the room.

Because Mas Farhan was again busy with his work on the laptop, I don't know what it is, I decided to clean the house. Want to try to invite a chat I'm sure will not be responded to. He's been busying himself with his own world for sure to avoid any conversation between us, right?

I started from cleaning the room I occupied last night, two rooms that have not been occupied, the front room and terrace of the house, even the yard. As soon as I finished all the work, I returned home.

"Mas Farhan, what is breakfast in the morning? Regular coffee, ngeteh first or how?" I asked Mas Farhan who was still struggling in front of his laptop. I occasionally saw him snort, then rummage indistinctly and scramble his hair. He looks frustrated. If our relationship was okay, I would definitely accompany him and comfort him, trying to calm him down to do his job. However, ... Given the things that had already happened, that despair only invited pain again.

Exhaling for a moment, I took a step closer to Mas Farhan. It's possible that due to being too focused on her work she wasn't aware of my presence.

"Mas, what kind of tea does coffee make?" bargain again. Still, I got no answer. I repeat my question once more.

I'm gnawing. "Ma-sorry, Mom. But it is my duty to care for and serve the needs of Mas Farhan."

He put down his laptop mouse, then got up from his seat and came closer to me. I lowered my head as his gaze increasingly glared at my eyes. Intentions dodged, he raised my face, then turned towards her.

"Dream about it, Najwa. I reiterate and remember carefully, I let you have a good time with me, but not with any other business." I closed my eyes tightly when I felt pain in my chin. His nails hurt me. Wanted to cry, but there he would be more arbitrary towards me. "Well I eat what and where, sleep where and where, it's up to me. It's a good thing I want to keep you in my house. So, know yourself. Understood?"

He took off the rough grip on my chin and then moved out of the house.

"Mas, where are you going?" I screamed a little, but there was no word from the person I called. I sat down limply on the front room sofa crying in silence. I rubbed the tears that I don't know when to drip it was quite rough.

Can I live a life like this for longer? Not even for a day did I feel like I was broken. What would I be like if I continued to survive? Oh, my God, Najwa. What are you thinking?

Immediately I took notice as the pessimistic thoughts began to permeate my brain. I reconfigured my resolve so that I would not be easily swayed by what I was doing.

...***...

I spent all day sitting at home. Want to contact the family-Father or Mas Reza, afraid they even ask questions, and at the end of it I am confused to answer what. Want to contact Mas Farhan, I have no contact. Really bad, yeah. Seatap but not sehatu, tied but like not bound. Very depressing. Want to watch television, there is no spectacle that can attract attention. Want to cook was reluctant because Mas Farhan had not come home since this morning. No one will eat either. I myself just boiled the instant noodles earlier. I don't know where Mas Farhan is now. Good thing I didn't die of boredom in this house. While wandering around the house, front and back yard, I found a means of diversion bored it by watering and caring for plants in pots ranging from small, medium, to large.

After being quite tired and bored with the activity, I entered the house, then purified myself because Azan Magrib had reverberated. I began to fret because Mas Farhan had not yet appeared. Even after I finished the Magrib ritual and the remembrance, there was no hint that Mas Farhan would come.

I moved to the front room, intending to wait for him there. However, until the azan Isya back home, he has not come as well. The worries that were also affected by the speculations made me even more uneasy. Sometimes I paced in front of the door, linking fingers to one and the other.

"Where are you, Mas? Why haven't you come home yet?" my monologue stared expectantly at the main door.

...***...

Sweet greetings from sweet people. Wkwk.

Sumenep, Madura, East Java

Monday, 14 June 2021