Liz Nadia's

A Mother's Belief

"Absolutely, Sir! I beg you to forgive me!" roar muana with tears that have decomposed on both cheeks, while enduring the pain all over his body due to the lashing of the whip owned by Diraga Madewa. His hands were tied back in a sitting position on a round bench without a backrest, in a stuffy room without ventilation in a hidden part of the house.

"Sorry words in your mouth won't help!" hardik Diraga Madewa's. The two-meter long whip with a metal handle carved into the head of the snake was still swinging in his hand. "I just need your confession. Who the hell are you?! Why are you so interested in my son, Zack?!"

Muana was silent again. Kick his mind to choose an answer.

Should he admit it?

"Aarrgghh!!"

The woman's loud screams echoed again, as one merciless lash was laid down by Diraga Madewa into the calf of Muana. "Say! Or I'll ...." The man with his violent face, then continued his sentence, "Pulling out your kidneys and heart right now," he threatened right in front of Muana's face which clearly looked pitiful.

"I'm his mother!" muana quickly admitted, with his eyes closed, before Diraga Madewa landed back his demon whip.

The psychopath looked surprised. "Say it again!" the door was heavy and pressing, the look on his face was clearly more frightening in Muana's view.

Between pain and fear, Muana's sobbing was increasingly roaring. Slowly, a nod was moved. "Yes, Sir. I'm sure your son Zack is my lost son."

"Where did you judge that?" diraga Madewa asked with curious eyes.

"I'm a mother, sir. I know him more than anyone." He looked at the face of Diraga Madewa with all his beliefs.

Diraga Madewa paused for a moment, then asked, "If I say, Zack was born from my wife's womb, would you still admit to him as your son?"

That question was enough to make Muana stupefied. Right, all this time he had only been oriented towards his belief about Zack Shangra which he thought was his long lost biological son. But Diraga Madewa's question just now, enough to highlight his feelings. What if he is completely wrong with his beliefs?

For some time Muana was still frozen. While Diraga Madewa was still waiting to look at him with the fold of his hand in front of his chest.

Like a sturdy stalagmite hanging from the mouth of a cave, Muana began to move her lips. "No, Sir! I'm sure your son Zack is my missing son!" he added convincingly, with glittering highlights steadfastly unbreakable. No longer ignored the pain of the fruit lashings Diraga who had turned blue all over his body. "In addition to recognizing my son's face, Zack also has the exact same birthmark as my son at the nape of his neck."

...**...

Muana's round eyes are getting rounder. His gaze was fixed on a teenage boy whom he clearly knew very well. The accelerated pace of chasing a teenage boy who is now walking closer to a car parked on the side of the road in the market area. Many times his mouth screams for a name he believes is the only son missing after the tragedy of the bus accident, a year ago.

His son's body was never found, even after a week of intrusion in the area around the incident. Of the 32 people on board the bus, only 31 bodies were found, all of whom had been forensically identified on behalf of friends and teachers. As for the boy, lost somewhere.

With a breath of breath, the shoulder that began to settle was successfully grabbed by Muana. "Kahl!"

The seventeen-year-old teenager looked surprised. "What's up, Madam?!"

Clear threads began to fall from Muana's eyeballs. "Kahfi. You're really alive, son." His palms began to rise touching the teenager's cheeks.

Contrary to the look of longing and happy Muana, the teenage boy in front of him, even edged backwards with a face of frowning in astonishment. "You who?"

A fist of Muana's heart jumped not a bitch. His eye frame was again made wide. "Kahfi, don't you know Mom, son?" His palm was still floating in front.

"Mother? Whose mother? I don't have a Mom. My name is not Kahfi. I'm Zack, Zack Shangra!" the teenager stressed.

Muana shook her head with tears that had been shed profusely. "No! You're my son! My horse!" A flash of memory carried his movements spontaneously grabbing the young man's nape, confirming something.

And true, it's not wrong. The little blue mark on the teenager's left nape, was clearly a birthmark belonging to his son ... Kahfi Al-Bareeq's. "Look, this blue sign. Mother clearly recognized him. This is your birthmark, son. Kahfi my son! I can't be wrong! I'm your mother, son!"

"Don't make it up, Madam! I'm not your son!" With a merciless quick motion, the teenager opened the door of his car then entered and drove as fast as he could. Leaving Muana who continued to shout calling Kahfi's name, to invite attention around.

Why didn't the boy recognize him? Her knees were shaking, Muana was not even able to support her own body. He fell, then was unconscious.

After that incident, he never saw his son anywhere. Although his feet repeatedly retraced the same spot, hoping for Kahfinya to return, but empty. The boy never showed himself at a glance.

Eleven years later ... Muana, who was working as a fruit shopkeeper in front of a hospital in the city center, again caught a figure that he did not even briefly forget. "Kahfi." He's aghast.

No mother can forget her child, despite being a dozen years apart. Muana still remembers, how the shape of Kahfi Albareeq's facial lines, nose and sweet lips, stern temples, and all the details that exist in his baby. Although what he sees today is Kahfi with a more sturdy body portion contains, also more mature of course. He can't be wrong.

He got up and walked to make sure he wasn't dreaming. His eyes continued to follow the figure, no matter what he was on his feet. Occasionally his steps are limbed because his barefoot flip-flops tripped over bricks and the like that are still scattered in front of the semi-finished building project, but re-balanced.

Until without feeling, he has entered the inner area of the building project. While the figure he was looking for had disappeared between the bulkhead of the room, which was out of nowhere. Too bad, his old legs could not keep up with the young man's rapid pace.

"Sorry, ma'am, who are you looking for?" A man in a project officer's uniform, with his helmet and boots on, approached Muana who was still in a daze looking. "Mrs, I'm asking, Who are you looking for?!"

"Aah!" Muana was aghast, spontaneously turning her gaze to the foreign man in front of her. "I-i ...." He seemed to think, if he asked Kahfi's name, of course this man would not recognize him. He began to dig into his thoughts, trying to remember the name that Kahfi Al-Bareeq had coined eleven years ago. And .... "Zack, yes Zack," said Muana spirit, after successfully remembering the name, although not completely. "But I forgot his last name."

The yellow-helmed man frowned. "Zack?" His sight was now striking the stairs at the end of the room, as if thinking. Until a moment later, his gaze turned back to Muana, after he achieved the work of his head. "Ah, perhaps you mean, Mr. Zack, Zack Shangra."

"Yes, Zack Shangra. Yes him!" Muana's excited expression was no longer able to hide. "I want to meet him. He works here, doesn't he?"

"Umm, yes. He owns this building!"

...🕊️🕊️🕊️...