OWNER OF HEART

Eps 3's

“Mheta, did you fight with Daffa?”

I looked at a message from my father for a long time. I read it over and over, but I did not find the right answer. I rarely ask about Daffa. What he often asked jutrus was how I and I were (well called Daffa).

we have to keep our distance from each other. Even though we had grown up, Dad never let us go together.

“Didn't you not believe in Daffa. But you are our only child. All the things that father did to you, whether permission or prohibition, will be held accountable by Allah.”

We both comply. Of course, if you want to talk, Daffalah comes to the house. We often chatted at the dinner table. There's a father, there's a mother. Sometimes we gather in the kitchen and clean the garden in the back

homehouse.

Daffa didn't just come when I was home. He also often stopped by even just talking to his father. Then, if you ask me that now, what does it mean that Daffa told me everything

him, about our conversation?

Oh, my God, is that a child? I've always considered him so mature.

Thinking about all that seemed like there was no other choice but to ask her directly, so , I immediately grabbed the phone , looking for Daffa's name.

I bit my lips, waiting for a call that wasn't lifted. Iotap screen. I started to breathe short. I'm typing a message

to him.

“Can we talk?”

Messages were sent, and once again I started calling him again. I ended the repeated dial tone after a connection so far away not to the point.

Three hours later, the ringing of my phone started sticking out. Daffa's name is on the mobile phone. I closed my mouth while breathing deeply. I grabbed the cell phone and brought it closer to my ear.

“Dad asked, did we quarrel.” I said without further ado, after saying hello.

“Since when the hell, you are childish gini?” there was a warm explosion in my chest.

“I happen to be going out. So Uncle told me to stop by the station. Send your fried banana anther that is left at home. But, I can not miss the conversation of two people who are enjoying a drink together.”

Instantly both my palms were moist. My God, Daffa saw me with. I don't even know the name of the man. I also glanced at the empty bottle that was still plastered on the room table.

“Eh, wait! Meaning you—“

“I told Uncle, if we don't meet. Because the train has left. But Uncle does not believe, because logically your train has not left. So I told you I was stalling.”

“Eh, so, that means you're yellow—“

“No, I'm not stalking you.”

“But what you see is not what you think, Daffa.” Once again I interrupted Daffa's words.

“What do you think, what do I think? We are nobody!”

“Today I respect the rules applied by Uncle. I never let you go alone. So, I hope this is enough to answer your father's question.”

“But someone you saw it was just—“

“Mheta? Go if you want to go. I've let you go, even let you go for that guy or anyone who likes you.”

“So soon did you forget me, Daffa? Even I thought your words in time were just a joke.”

“Already, I'm busy.”

I put the phone on the pillow with half a throw. I covered my face with both palms. I was trying to make sense of the conversation that just happened. Daffa has never taken me to the station or anywhere. After catching up, just seeing me with someone else. And why does it feel so upset to hear Daffa speak so calmly, does he really not love me? “Yes God, why is it so complicated?” I closed my eyes. Longtime.

The moment I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was an empty blue bottle on the table. I hooked him. Now this bottle really proves that what Daffa saw was not wrong. He can think of anything. And that's natural. Even if I was in his position, I would probably guess. But why is Daffa so calm? It doesn't feel like his tone is going up. All so flat.

But on the other hand, this bottle also signifies that if me and a wet-coated man were just two strangers sharing an empty bench. Who share the quietness in the midst of the rain.

I sighed, then took the empty bottle to the kitchen, washed it in the shower.

“Mizone only, don't worry. I don't give poison. I told you I wanted to go to heaven, so there was no way I could poison people. There I go to hell line VVIP.”

I smiled, as if it was in my head. Yes, it's just mizone. And I shouldn't have suspected it. At least take the story. Not just silence, to the point that he thinks I can't talk.

“Yeah, Mheta?” I turned around, Rini looked at me while tilting her head. “It's just a used bottle.”

“Indeed. I didn't say ceramic bottle, did I?”

“But you until those smiles are so clean?” Rini touched my forehead. “You sure you're okay?”

I chuckle. I unplugged the washcloth from the cantolan to dry the bottle while heading for the room, letting Rini laugh and look at me in astonishment.

There is nothing coincidental in this world. I met that wet-coated guy. And Daffa saw us. Then the phone number listed in the book, yes, although not necessarily the number is true. But they're all like dots I might be able to pull the red thread.

Can't be delayed, I'm going to write this story, maybe tell it from my own point of view. From the perspective of the man in the wet matel, or even from the point of view of Daffa. All interesting. Even if the story was told by one of the people who was also in the waiting room. As Seno Gumira A. wrote is to capture the moment of life with the most total fantasy.

Maybe this is how God gave me ideas. Now it depends on me ‘ right? Catching or wasting? All right, there's still an hour left before leaving for work.

I put the old bottle back on the table. In the corner of my books. When the next minute, I turned on the laptop and was ready to write, a voice stopped my activities.

“Package!”

The hostess is out, the others are closing the room. I also had to open the door.

“For whom, Bang?”

“For Mheta,” says brother Courier.

My forehead wrinkled. I'm not online. But when I finally got the box from the courier bang, I knew who the sender was. It's Daffa's handwriting. “Tumben? Send what is he? Why did it earlier on the phone not say anything.”