Mas Rud (Novel Love The Bodyguard)
Say Thank You
And open up clearly the first page of the novel that contains the expression of thanks to the author. The young lady raised her head, turned her eyes in turn, to the right, to the left, to the top and sometimes closed. He seemed not ready to know the secret of the heart of the novelist.
He sips water which happens to be on his dressing table. That full glass now leaves only a little at the bottom. It seemed that he was being overwhelmed, there was a fight in his heart, continuing or stopping.
In the end, the eye chose focus. Started reading.
Say Thank You
This novel is our promise. A beautiful promise that must be separated. Before I thank you, let me apologize for all the wounds I have inflicted on your heart. Through my writing, I speak from the heart, everyone. From the beginning of this love begins until the last moment of our separation.
I am grateful that God has brought us together for even a moment. However, I am very grateful to you, because you gave me so much love. Instead forgive me for giving you so many wounds. This love remains yours, not as big as when we were together but much bigger than before.
My regret for taking the wrong step, now let me bear it. Always happy, even though I am the one who wants to be the cause of your happiness. Unfortunately I am a wound carrier.
Thank you to the man who is now beside you. If there's no one, I'm sure my guilt for leaving you will be even greater. He is the man you deserve to be happy with your love. Because I know, he's a fighter not a loser like me.
Losers who always love you
(Rud Dinata)
The cover of say thank you finally forced the girl to close the novel she had just read. He scooped his face and then took a deep breath. Put the novel back on the corner of her dresser. After some time, he got up from his seat. Open the balcony door and stay there. Viewing the night sky illuminated by thousands of stars.
"Your thanks should I answer you, Mom? muttered the girl while raising her eyes at the perfectly glowing moon.
"Sama-sama, yes .. we are both equally hurt," continued the girl in her talk alone.
"You thank the man beside me, because he took care of me from the wounds you intentionally inflicted. However, do Mas know if until this second, my race to you is still still rested even though my heart is as strong as I have melted with the owner of my halal love," the girl's sad face again flowed clear crystals.
"I'm sorry, I hurt you both. The man beside me, always understood my heart which was not one hundred percent to him. However, I am evil for always settling love for your past feelings for you, Mas Rud."
As the girl chose to close her eyes from the shadow of the bitter reality, there was a hand that patted her shoulder. He kept nailing, no matter who came because he actually needed someone to back up. Let go of the entangling fatigue, the troublemaking and the crazily shackling.
"If you're not ready to get hurt deeper, don't move on!" said the typical voice of the man he guessed as the one who had just patted his shoulder.
The girl lowered her gaze. As if confirming what the man beside her had just said. He let go of the rough breath he used to get on with his life. "She chose to leave me and ended up hurting her two hearts, her heart and hers. But my decision to lean on another heart when I was hurt by it, it just made me the meanest woman, injuring 3 hearts unintentionally."
A thread of tears flowed slowly from the tip of the girl's eyes. The more swift and make it can no longer control the issue. The man next to her was about to grab the girl's body into her arms, but he puffed out. He did not want to make the girl think that he was getting worse, because the presence of a fourth person who would be hurt by it.
"It's too late, sir. I've hurt both of them and now I'm the one who bears the karma, losing them from my side" the girl explained in her remaining sobbing.
"Go from here! Calm yourself! And be ready to welcome the birth of a new Rosa, Rosa without the shadow of Dion or Rud" said the man who was called the Pak.
"Maybe it's better for me. But I want to finish reading the novel. I've prepared myself to be totally overwhelmed if the fact I've been getting is very painful" explains the girl Rosa was named by the man.
The man again patted the trying strong girl on the shoulder despite being deeply wounded and gaping. "Don't force if you're not in power. Find me when your senses can't be handled on your own. I'm not the fourth person in your circle of pain, I'm just the big brother who will comfort you if you want. But trust me I'm always near you."
The girl raised her head which she had bowed down. Removing the tears that were still there and staring at the departure of the man he called Pak but claimed to be his brother. "Go, Sir! Don't be around me for long. I'm afraid you'll get hurt."
The girl was again stunned after taking off the order for the man who had just left her with a soft cry. His consciousness began to return as a slight gust of wind passed from the word sepoi and referred to the word small storm caressing the rough of his strung hair. Playing naughty to cover part of his face.
His legs were forced to move, leaving the balcony, back on the chair that had made him sore. Staring back at the novel fixedly even though his hand was still hesitant to grab it. Just the roar of a rough breath that he threw out later.
Sheets say thank you that he had marked with a paper barrier that was available in his novel, he opened. Not focused on the page but instead found something that disturbed his vision of the small object.
A hand painting visualizing two people of different types sitting on a beach in the light of twilight. They were seen looking at the sun that had sunk and left only a slight tinge of orange over the distant ocean there.
"Why do you describe us turning our backs to our eyes, Mas? Is this a sign from you that our story has become a memory?" again the girl's shrill voice filled the surrounding silence.
Slowly his delusion was brought about at a time when the painting was becoming the real story. When he and the story-making man in the novel he read was enjoying the twilight. Holiday time, almost four years ago a few days before the sad event happened.
Their love talk about turmoil at that time apparently he poured into a paper limiting books. Is it like a marker of the past, when something beautiful is about to turn into disrepair?
