My lecturer Married me

Apparently, the one who married Yash was Mr. Arga, his own lecturer

The marriage dream I've been dreaming of is gone. Anganku. This chest tightness really peaked. What mistake did I make that I experienced something like this. Moreover, I was not at all given the chance to know the depraved man who desecrated me. To desecrate me in my unconsciousness, destroy my life in my inability, and kill me in my breath.

If I could, I'd like to run to the highest hill and scream as loud as possible. But not. Finish kabul, I just immediately pull myself to immerse all the struggling flavors as if burning every cell of this body. Tears were pouring down, removing my makeup that night like everything that happened to me now. Because indigo is a speck, ruin my future.

The more my mind looked at the events of the past three months, the heavier I felt. The sky seemed to collapse, hoarding me in uncertainty. The frenetic frenzy out there is only deafening ears. Their laughter was like a mockery to me. I don't know, I'm ruined.

The night continued late, my energy was running low. Anger and all that sense of chest drained everything. I fell asleep no matter what I face tomorrow. I hope this is all just a nightmare that will end when I wake up.

*****

The sound of a loud dawn prayer was heard in the ear, becoming a routine alarm that I did not need to stel. I tried to get up, but my body felt very weak. For a moment I gathered my energy and tried to get back up. I slowly moved towards my bathroom. Washing ablution water feels cool gives freshness as if recharge again my strength to return to live life.

I went out of the bathroom and walked towards the closet where my face was kept neat. But in the usual place I gather, there is someone who is doing the same thing. My reasoning led to last night's events. Maybe he was the one who followed me.

I take the mukena and head to the mosque house. There was my father and mother who were just about to carry out their dawn duties, and I took part.

After performing the dawn prayer. Mom and Dad didn't ask much questions. Mom just asked me to help her in the kitchen prepare breakfast for us to eat this morning, while dad headed ahead watering the plants while waiting for the newsboy as usual.

In the kitchen, I asked my mother. Who I saw was praying in the room, I mean who the man who married me last night. Hearing my question, mom just looked at me deeply and asked me to make a cup of warm tea and told me to take her to the room.

"Bring this up, you'll find out later." said my mother later.

I brought the warm tea to my bedroom. Could it be that he was an old man who never married so he was willing to marry me, or was it just a paid man who wanted to marry me after getting money from my parents? It seemed that the second was impossible, as it was very contrary to my parents' principles.

I don't know who it is, I'm sure I'm pretty stubborn about it. That man knows about my situation. What am I going to tell her, any courtship I've never had. And now I have to share a bed with a man I don't know at all.

For a long time this step was swaying. The kitchen which is only a few meters to the hour of sleep feels very far away. I finally arrived at my doorstep.

Slowly, my door opened. My eyes were combing around the already neat room. No one is visible. The pillows and blankets that were on your sofa were neatly tucked into my bed. I slowly walked in and stopped when someone came out of the bathroom.

"Sir Arga?" I said half in shock.

My body pecked for a moment when I saw the figure of a man in front of me, my hands were slippery and powerless. Instantly the white cup containing the hot tea fell to the floor. Prankkkkkp. His voice made me startle myself, let alone the splashes of his hot tea hitting my feet.

The man in front of me asked me to stay away from the fragments of the cup. He took a lap and tidied and swept it.

I who moved onto the sofa could only see without a word.

"Are you okay?" that's the word that came out of the mouth of a man named Arga, who was none other than my own lecturer.

Mr. Arga is my guidance counselor. Actually, his age is not far from me. 28 years. Since S1, he has been an Ashdos. And while studying S2, he has been appointed as a lecturer on campus until now.

I was half stunned by the sound of my mother and father coming after hearing the noise I made. Mother asked me to go back to the kitchen with her, father himself took Mr. Arga to the front to chat and asked me to make tea for them.

Mom just rubbed my back and gave me a glass of water. I'm like a dazed man today. I don't seem to understand anything.

My mom came back from delivering tea. And continue his work.

"What married me last night was Mr. Arga ma'am?" I break the silence.

My mom just focused on the vegetables she was going to work on. No answer came out of his mouth. I guess the answer is yes. And I threw him a question.

"How could he. What did you guys say that he wanted to marry me?"

"I knew Mr. Arga was there when I fainted and was sentenced to be pregnant, because he helped take me to the clinic. But...."

I haven't finished my words yet, mother then groaned in pain. His hand was sliced by a knife. I was shocked and got out of my seat and picked up the medicine box. After I wrapped the wound, I asked my mother to sit down and I finished the job.

I'm not as good at cooking as my mom, but I often help her in the kitchen. I can handle a little bit of food. Of course with orders from my mother.

For the first time I made breakfast and for the first time my husband will taste my cooking. I don't know like a dream feel it now I have married and my husband is my own lecturer. But I know that my marriage is not our curiosity. I also don't know what deal my parents made with Mr. Arga so he would help our family by marrying me. But from what happened to mom, I know that I don't need to know any reason Mr. Arga wants to marry me.

****

From today I don't go to college. My script is stacked at home, of course with help from Mr. Arga. My husband's. He was my guidance counselor, as usual he was not a person of favoritism. If anyone has to be refitted, I have to be refitted. I don't know if something like this is allowed or not. I just follow the plot.

We live in even one room. But just so you know we don't sleep together in one bed. Mr. Arga let me sleep in my bed as usual, while he slept on the sofa.

Every night without him noticing I was watching him a lot. Lately, almost every night he sleeps past midnight. In addition to teaching, he also wrote books. In addition to the book modules, I know he's also a novel writer. Maybe that's what he's doing late at night.

Just like now. He's sleeping late again. Today he came home like never before. It was raining heavily and he had not yet returned home. I'm actually worried, but I don't dare to point out that we're not real husband and wife. He's just a nice guy who's willing to sacrifice his time and everything to help me and my family.

At 22:15 I saw the clock in my hand when I heard the familiar sound of the car in my ear. That was Arga's car. He just got home.

I rushed forward to open the door before I finally poured out when I saw my father had preceded me. Looks like dad also asked me what I wanted to ask. I heard he came home late because there was another job he had to finish today.

My door was usually locked from eight in the evening, because my parents, including me, were used to sleeping early unless there were other activities. So if anyone comes home past that hour, including it's too late.

I went back to bed and pretended to be good. He kept his bag and went into the bathroom. Shortly after she came out of the bathroom, she sat down at the desk and opened her laptop. The man I used to see wearing a long-sleeved shirt with material pants and carrying his briefcase now looked different.

A white t-shirt with shorts and hair that was just ruffled with his hands made him look different. Looks relaxed. And handsome.

From the side, there is a beautiful silhouette of the face. Her nose is sharp, her eyelashes are slightly flattened and her little lips look good in my eyes. Every now and then he squirms a little bit of aching accentuating the hidden muscles.

I don't know when I started to notice it. But lately I've been doing that a lot. Sometimes I steal glances when he prays, works out in the backyard, eats, or when he does his job like he does today. There was a subtle sigh that pervaded through it like a electrocution, a bit surprising.

After almost half-hour two in the morning, he just closed his laptop and lay his body on the sofa. The snoring sound I usually didn't hear, now I hear. Like her she skipped the cape to the point that she let out a loud snoring sound.

I convinced myself that he was asleep, slowly I got up and sat down while looking at him who was asleep in his sleep. He changed his sleeping position towards me. I was shocked, but I smiled again. Now I can see her sweet face. I got up and covered him with a thicker blanket.

We rarely communicate. At home, we only discuss the thesis. There's nothing else.