My madam, my poison

Start to suspect

"Ehm .. Their relationship is fine, Mom."

"Karmila was stubborn and often opposed to her husband. To be honest, I'd rather Fabian have a wife like you. Besides being patient, you are also sincere."

Thank God, although not able to move much, but the mother has been smooth again talking.

I smiled thinly.

"My match with Fabian is over. Marrying Mila was his decision. I'm sure everyone has a good side" I said.

"Oh yeah. Now who's Rayyan? Did he leave it to the baby sitter?" Suddenly she diverted the conversation.

That question confused me. I can't possibly say that Rayyan is now in someone else's care. I don't understand it myself either. Fabian once said that his baby boy was pinned to a taxi driver. But a while ago I saw the baby with a luxury car owner.

Hmmm.

"Rayyan was entrusted to the baby sitter, ma'am."

Yes Rabb, I'm sorry to go back to lying to you.

"Thank God. I think Fabian sent her to the orphanage."

"Mom want to eat her cake now?"

Deliberately diverting the conversation.

The woman I love so much nodded her head.

"Actually I still want to linger to accompany Mom here. But there are some stitches from the customer that I need to finish as soon as possible" I said.

"You have a sewing business now?"

"Yes, Mom. It's the only skill I have to be able to continue living" I said.

"I'm sorry for your son, Nduk. If it wasn't for her remarrying, you wouldn't have taken the trouble you'd have now."

"Mom doesn't have to apologize. All this is my destiny, God willing I have accepted it."

"You are a good woman, Nduk" said the mother, touching the top of my head.

"Thank you for taking good care of my mother" I told the officer, giving her an envelope with some money.

"Together, Mom."

I kissed mom's hand and then I kissed her hand full of reverence. I also taught Lyra to shake hands with her grandmother. The term ex-husband or ex-wife does exist. But there's no ex-grandmother, is there?

"We go home first, Mom. Assalamu'alaikum."

"Vaalaikumsalam. Careful, Nduk."

"Da-dah ne-nek" said Lyra as she waved her hand at her mother. We also left the room.

"Where are we, Mom?" ask the taxi driver as soon as I sit in the passenger seat.

"Ehm, to the supermarket, sir."

I just remembered my soap and toothpaste were gone.

After buying the things I needed, I left the supermarket. My next goal is to go home to my hostel. When I was waiting for the taxi it was suddenly Lyra whining for a balloon that the toy dealer was selling across the street. I think it was the color and shape that caught his attention.

"Lyra wants a balloon?" my many.

My little princess grimaced to reveal her teeth which had now grown four seeds.

I made sure the traffic lights had changed to red before I crossed the busy highway that afternoon.

Of the many colors and shapes of balloons sold by the merchant, Lyra's choice fell on a pink cat-shaped balloon.

"How much, Cake?" ask the toy seller.

"Ten thousand, son."

"Take the change," I said as I handed him twenty thousand bills.

"No, Son. I work, not a beggar."

"That's not what I mean. Consider it a sustenance from God through my hands" I said.

"By buying this balloon you have provided sustenance for me." The grandfather took a piece of ten thousand coins from his waist bag and thrust it at me.

"How long has Grandpa been selling toys?" my many.

The grandfather who might be over sixty years old was smiling.

"Since youth until now have five grandchildren" he replied. I can catch the sincerity in the look in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Grandpa has kids, don't you? Grandpa could go with Grandpa's son instead of having to work hard to sell like this."

"My children are all married. I don't want to trouble them," he said.

"God, Grandpa is amazing. I salute Grandpa's spirit. May Grandpa continue to be healthy."

"Aamiinu. The same prayer for you and your family."

I nodded my head while smiling.

It just so happened that the place where grandfather sold toys was near the park. I spread my eyes around the place. Uh! Therehewas. There was a woman pushing a baby carriage. I was thinking of giving one of the balloons I bought to his son. I walked up to the two who were sheltering under the big banyan tree.

"Assalamu'alaikum" said I.

"Waalaikumsalam" said the hijab-wearing woman.

"Away through Mom?" 

"Yes, Mom. Looking for fresh air."

"How many months is this baby's sister?" my many.

"Almost six months."

"I bought two balloons. This one balloon is for Sister only," I said as I tied the balloon rope to the baby carriage.

"Thank you, Auntie," said the woman.

Suddenly the baby boy was crying. 

"You thirsty, son?"

The woman quickly lifted the baby's body and sat down on one of the stools to suckle him. I was quite surprised when I looked at the baby's physique which turned out to be imperfect. The fingers of his right hand are incomplete, while the fingers of his left hand are excessive. But that's not what I'm worried about. Why is this baby's face so similar to Fabian's? Uh! Where could Fabian have had another wife besides Mila. I quickly dismissed the bad thoughts that had crossed. Maybe it just so happened that this baby's face was similar to Fabian's.

"I was often embarrassed because people often insulted Saddam's physical shortcomings. Not infrequently they also said that Saddam's face did not look like his father or mother" said the woman. I can catch the sadness in the look in his eyes.

"We are all equal before God. What distinguishes us is our level of faith. You don't have to be discouraged. Maybe Saddam's physique wasn't perfect, but God willing he had other advantages."

"Yes. Even so my husband and I still accept and love him wholeheartedly because we have so long missed his presence."

I responded to the woman with a smile on my lips.

"The Mother Princess is so beautiful. What's name?"

"His name is Lyra."

"What a good name. How old is he?"

"One year, Mom."

"Why do I feel like our son's face looks the same, Mom?" The woman I didn't know her name was chuckling.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence" I said.

Not long after a man approached us.

"The car is repaired. Let's go home, '" he said.

I looked at the face of the man whose posture was not that high. True too, his face was not at all similar to Saddam's. This baby is probably Mila and Fabian. Who exactly is Rayyan? Was this the reason why Fabian so easily trusted others to take care of him? Because their biological children are born disabled and deliberately exchange them with other babies?

Astarghfirullahaldzim aposchich. Why did such a prejudice suddenly appear?

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