My lecturer Married me

Yash, go to college with Mr. Arga

I say goodbye to my parents. Even though they seem not to allow it, they can't resist this desire of mine.

I understand why they don't want me to go to college. Not many know how I am, not even my marriage. Only two of my best friends, Alifa and Hasna, knew nothing.

For the first time I got in Mr. Arga's car, sitting next to him. We just fell silent along the way to campus and unfortunately the road we passed was hit by severe traffic jams. Mr. Arga seemed focused on the steering wheel, and I could only throw a glance out the car window.

I saw surabi-seller mothers. I felt like I wanted to eat surabi, surabi with topping oncom eaten hot.

My eyes did not move from the surabi while occasionally I swallowed drooling. As if I could finish all the surabi arranged in angkringan until I did not realize that Mr. Arga began to pay attention to me.

Without asking, Mr. Arga parked his car right in front of the surabi basket. He was seen wrapping a bag full of surabi that was ready to be eaten. I'm being embarrassed. But seneng also, have a husband on standby. If only. I can only take a long breath.

We continue the journey. Arrive at the campus parking lot.

"Do you want to go in or join your friends?" ask Mr. Arga after we got out of the car.

I decided to call my friends. It's not good if I go with Mr. Arga, especially he must be busy.

I called Hasna and Alifa who were at the campus park. I followed up, and joined.

Today's show was great. My favorite is book surgery and the culinary for sure. After the book surgery, I went around the exhibition. There are some books I bought. And not to forget, culinary delights satronize every food and drink booth that spoils my greedy eyes even though the end I just chip a little each food I order.

I'm having fun. A month later I didn't set foot in this nice place. While haha hihi with my friends, there are those who call my name.

"Yash." call a young man who's no stranger to me.

"Bill?" many reassuring. He's nodding.

Bilal is a friend of my High School, if it's not wrong he didn't go to college here, but at the next campus. What is he doing here?

Bilal and I were pretty familiar in High School. Bilal's parents had a very famous meatball shop around the school. In addition to the good taste, the price is also very friendly. I am a fan of meatballs must have stopped by his shop when I returned home from school.

I'll introduce Bilal to Alifa and Hasna. We continue to talk about the past.

Amidst our melted chatter, my eyes were fixed on someone at the other end. Someone standing next to a palm tree in front of the gym. He seemed to be watching us from far away. Soon, he left too.

What's Mr Arga doing there? I don't know. Let it go, maybe he's waiting for someone.

I went back to talking. Bilal is like remembering my favorite food, meatballs from his store. He opened the booth here. The booth is quite rame, no wonder because the meat is very tasty.

Bilal brought me a bowl. He offered Alifa and Hasna.

I can't wait to taste the phenomenal meatballs that became my favorite.

Just smelling the savory scent of her meatballs, my stomach suddenly became nauseous. My desire to eat meatballs is not in line with my body that seems to refuse. It smelled familiar but suddenly strange in my heart.

I was really nauseous and ran to the bathroom. I spit out what I can spit out. Could this be the effect of my pregnancy?

I went back to Bilal, I gave him a reason I was not feeling well. Maybe I catch a cold. I hope he's not offended.

****

It doesn't feel like it's late afternoon, but I'm still at home here. Meet with other friends. Share stories, joke and more that we do.

When I was cool, my gawa suddenly sounded. There's a message coming in from Mr. Arga. He took me home. It's too bad I'm home, I still miss my friends. I feel like I'm back in the world after a month of suspended animation.

I didn't send the message, but a second message came back.

"Let's go home, I'm in front of the basketball court. Waiting in the car ya." roughly like that contents the second message Arga sir.

I looked towards the basketball court. Sure enough he was there. Then leave.

I had to say goodbye to the others and followed Arga later.

I got in the car with my face bent. He is the committee, should go home later if the event is already running. This is even taking me home.

My face kept bending throughout the journey. Silent and silent. Only the frenetic street sounds tickle the ears.

"I'm going to go for a seminar out of town for a few days" he suddenly said that line.

Out of town? Some days? I don't know what to say. I just answered with, "owh, yes."

Our journey continues. After 30 minutes, we got home.

I did not enter, but remembered the surabi that I had not eaten this morning. I shared it with an old scavenger who I saw at the time was scavenging for used items that he could sell to collectors. I handed the bag of surabi to old man earlier. And go into the house after that.

Entering the room, I saw Mr. Arga was busy packing the items he would bring tomorrow.

I wanted to help, but he didn't ask me. I'm collapsing my body. My waist felt sore, but it didn't feel anything. I lyrics once again towards Mr. Arga. I got up and helped him.

We were fighting each other. Pretty long.

Sometimes I don't understand why we're so awkward when we look at each other. In the past, everything was more relaxed. In fact, we can talk for a long time when discussing material for my script or just a light discussion about some things. But now, it was like there was a fortress that was restricting us. There was another feeling I felt when I was near him. Could this be called falling in love?

****

Next day.

On a clear Sunday, mom and dad plan to clean up the warehouse, of course, helped by mukhlis and jono. The usual pelvic porters help us lift heavy things. Mom just bought a new couch for the tv room. The old one is actually still good. But it's outdated he said.

Mr. Arga had already taken off earlier this morning after dawn prayers. We didn't take him to the airport. Because Mr. Arga left at about three in the morning. I just drove him to the gate. Although the flight was scheduled at half-five in the morning, Mr. Arga chose to arrive much earlier.

Old sofa is humanized to the warehouse. I also saw the procession in the rest of my old sofa that used to accompany me to watch. Lebai. Hidhi.

There's something interesting I found while cleaning up the warehouse. My painting equipment. I'm so glad I found it here. It's been a long time since I graduated High School it feels like the last time I used it.