My Husband is a Ningrat

Chapter 66. [Three days without you ]

Two black German cars and one yellow frog car entered the main house.

The clock showed ten o'clock at night, as Kaysan's brothers and I finished splitting the city with police car control.

In my hand were nine shopping bags, and these were the wedding gifts from Kaysan's sisters. How happy I was at the mall earlier, Kaysan sisters so spoiled me with many things.

I threw myself down, as the nine of us had already parted ways to each other's rooms.

I took my phone to tell Kaysan. I forgot my husband whose money I spent millions.

I waited a moment, my message was not answered. Even the tick is only one. Ummm... Maybe Kaysan is still busy, or has gone to sleep.

I put my phone down, and hope when I wake up. My message has been avenged.

*

The sun had not yet emitted its light, the dark was still a hue this morning.

My morning rite was lonely, no man made me blush. The man sat down while enjoying a cup of warm tea in his hand. Even my message was not reciprocated, he made my mind uneasy.

How's he doing, what's he doing, is he okay, has he eaten, or maybe he thinks it's like the first courtship? If work doesn't tell you, God.

I put my foot out of the room, I want to find Indy or find Mbok Darmi.

Of all the rooms I passed, there was no sound from Kaysan's sisters. They're not awake yet, how can they?

Finally I chose to go to the backyard, where Mbok Darmi works.

My footsteps rested on each neatly arranged rock layout, next to me neatly lined red shoots plants trimmed in such a way that they look more beautiful.

The sound of the chicken coke began to accompany the roar of my breath, this elegant looking cage for a chicken made me stunned, it turned out that being a rich person was an essential pleasure. Everything should look special even if it's just a chicken coop. If I cash this chicken coop I can buy a new cell phone.

I chuckled amusedly, while ending my meeting with the chickens in the noble family.

"Mbok Darmi." called me, as he saw the middle-aged woman coming out from behind the door. I approached him as he waved his hand at me, "Mbok..."

"Yes cah ayu" she held my shoulder with her hand that was already wrinkled.

"Mbok has a shower?" The corner of his lips that had been embedded with thin lines became increasingly visible as the smile expanded. "In this hour Mbok must prepare himself."

"Jani can come along, Mbok?"

"Where to cah ayu."

"Where would Mbok do it. Um... Jani doesn't know what to do. Kaysan is not home."

"Indeed, if the prince's wrestling is there, why do you want to do something?"

I closed my mouth with a big smile, "Talk Mbok."

My eyes were glaring mischievously, Mbok Darmi chuckled while holding my hand.

"Yes, come on. accompany Mbok to the kitchen to make breakfast."

I stretched my legs happily, swinging my hands and Mbok Darmi simultaneously. But Mbok Darmi's alon-alon footsteps made me feel my footsteps were too wide and hasty.[alon-alon : slowly]

"Where to cah ayu, has it been pursued deposit?"

"Hehe. no Mbok, but my feet are not used to walking slowly."

"Although in a precarious situation, make it a habit to move your legs slowly. The beautiful one is like a princess. Don't run in a hurry."

"Bok, so when do we start learning? Mother said, I have to practice dancing, making offerings and manners in this house."

I'm nodding. We arrived at the dirty kitchen in the back house, here there were other courtiers who were busy peeling onions and chopping vegetables, cooking rice and so on.

I just observe, while occasionally observing the condition of this back home.

I walked, until my steps were fixed on a painting. A woman in her 40s sits in a green kebaya shirt, wearing a brown trench. Her hair was neatly carried, her face was ayu, her skin was a langsat yellow. This painting is so beautiful and real, like every scratch of the paint symbolizes an expression of love.

I linger observing every inch of paint scratches on the canvas.

"Your husband painted this."

"Mas Kaysan?" I said I couldn't believe it.

"Your husband is good at painting, and this is one of your husband's paintings."

"Who is this woman, Ma'am? Pretty."

I'm still looking at this painting.

"Nobody, let's go with the cook."

"If Kaysan is good at painting, why have I never been painted, Mbok? This kind of painting is also in the room."

I still don't understand why a woman should be the object of Kaysan's imagination. She looks beautiful and graceful, her face looks soothing to anyone who sees her. Even I as a woman also admired her aura, let alone Kaysan.

The morning began to decorate with sunlight, we were ready at the table to eat as usual. There was only silence, it felt like my body was stiff. No Kaysan, I'm like I lost my protective shield.

*

Morning at the tea farm.

Kaysan POV.

The cold air is still well creeping all over my body, even a cup of warm tea is not able to warm my morning atmosphere.

The mist still graced the plantation this morning as I was preparing to leave for the tea-pickers. The location of the association of workers picking fresh tea leaves is in a hut in the middle of the plantation. It took 25 minutes to get to his place, of course, on foot. But I love this kind of atmosphere, cool, cool, and green.

This kind of atmosphere is better if there is a Rinjani. I can hug her body, or just smell her scent that makes me excited.

Just a few days married and slept with her, last night I felt something was lacking. No tiny hands clutching my body, no nose sniffing my armpits.

There's one more night left, before I'll finally see her again. My woman, the woman who made me lose my appetite.

If during the day I like when women of different generations come together. They nimbly played his tongue, gossiping, while occasionally rubbing lipstick on his lips. Not far from the lip thing, they also always take care of stomach things, not infrequently some food supplies they bring for breakfast. If they have gathered, they will share or exchange food, ridicule each other's taste of cooking that is salty and will be mating, then accompanied by explosive laughter.

Not infrequently fresh tea leaf picker workers are women who double the responsibilities as a father and mother. They are inspiring women. As long as the child can eat and go to school, that's enough.

I arrived at the bamboo hut, the workers were quite surprised by my presence. They just bowed respectfully and commented on the smile, so their hands did not stop picking the fresh shoots of tea leaves. Highlight their eyes throw one another's eyes, with the meaning It seems that the boss is being punished Kanjeng Raja.

I sat down and occasionally snapped at them with the camera I was carrying.

After some time, the garden foreman came while carrying a plastic bag containing food. Usually he will bring a fried bakwan and a plastic pack filled with hot coffee.

"Have you been a long time?" ask her while sitting next to me.

"Kopi juragan, bakwan equally mendoannya still anget, monggo." Bet that white plastic near me.

If I remember for a long time I didn't eat fried food. Last time when I met Rinjani, my virgin girl. How's things? Has he eaten?

If Rinjani has not eaten, Mbok Darmi has dragged him to the dining room. I picked up a basket of corn, ate it with a fog-like feeling this morning. Slalu awaits the arrival of morning, then disappears after the sun comes to warm the earth.

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