Passion Script

CHAPTER IX

Yes, Allah. Give the servant the best way to break up with him. Rather than the servant not being a good wife and being more sinful, keep her away, O Allah. The servant does not want it.

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That was the first day I went through the morning shift. Maulana insisted on picking me up from work. He said there was something important to talk about. As usual, I uninspiredly agreed and welcomed him with more excitement. Because that means, the next week I will meet him continue. How nauseating!

Seeing her in the distance, sometimes I want to feel like I can fall in love with her sincerely. To be like other couples, when I saw it, I could not help but smile because I was happy. Even in the distance, the flowery love will make my blood feel rippled. I don't have to run away from him every fifteen days of the month because there is a longing that makes me always want to meet. Butno. In the distance, I felt himself getting swallowed up by the mist of my desire for her grey.

"Mamas will leave tomorrow for Jakarta, Dek. Mamas can work there," he said.

"Oh yeah. Hopefully, Sampean is comfortable and fit in with his work" I said flatly. Although flat, in my heart I cheered cheerfully because we were going LDR-an. I also did not need to feel tormented because I had to meet him. Even so, it does not necessarily make this problem will be resolved by itself.

"Yes, Deck. In this job later, if you only get three million a month, it's easy," he said again.

I didn't respond because I didn't want to. I don't really understand the meaning of his words either. Because he wants a month's salary of fifty million, I'm not sure I'll be able to love him because of the money. I like money, but I love it more. And on the contrary, even if his salary was only two million or even less in a month, as long as I loved him and respected him, I would still be by his side. Since I was a child, I was used to living hard and independent lives once I was an adult. After all, not everything that makes me comfortable has to do with money. His words made me feel no more for him.

"Mas, stop by for a while at the stall huh," I said as we passed the intersection of Pakde fried rice food stalls.

"Which shop?" tanyakanya.

"The place is just Mrs Ripin" I said, pointing to the food stall on the right side of the road from the direction we came.

Maulana stopped the bike in front of the stall I pointed at. While I was shopping, he was waiting for me outside the shop and seemed to be talking to someone he knew.

In this Bu Ripin shop, you could say very complete. Unfortunately, the vegetables and fruits are not well taken care of. Most vegetable traders who leave their merchandise in this shop, often put their own goods until there is a pile with the goods of others. Because it is not laid out and cared for, most become withered or even rot. Only the advantages, we can choose for ourselves without being followed by the owner of the shop or its guard. He just sat at the cashier table chatting and quietly watched the buyers. Exclude quality, I prefer a stall that gives freedom like this because I feel uncomfortable if I have to be tracked continuously like a potential thief. But that's every shop owner's right, and mine as a buyer.

In this chaotic stall, I almost ran into a young woman who was shopping for vegetables like me. Next to her, stand or follow a man who occasionally points or shakes at the items the woman touches. Maybe they're a couple, my inner husband.

After I finished choosing all the groceries I wanted to buy, I walked to the cashier table and put down the groceries of my choice. Because someone had come to the cashier table first, I was waiting for my turn not far from the person. This person was none other than the couple.

"Thirty-seven thousand yes," said Bu Ripin kindly while pushing the plastic groceries he had calculated.

"Thirty-seven," his wife murmured with a lowered look. While both hands squeezed the grocery bag tightly. When seen through the look on his face and the look in his eyes, he was actually young. But because of the thin skin of his face, as well as unkempt and added .. may be an inner burden, making him look old.

"Thirty-seven, Mas," said Bu Ripin again, who though remained friendly, but there was a satirical tone in it.

"Thirty-seven? Very expensive!" he took some money out of his pocket and gave money sheets of thirty-seven thousand. Fit.

Ms. Ripin did not respond, only taking a deep breath while putting the payment money into her cashier desk drawer. While the couple continued to pass with the babble of the husband who was still questioning the price of his wife's groceries with the wife who tailed behind him with a lowered gaze.

Me?

Dying, Bray!

The scene just now was able to make my body limp and almost faint. Yes, Rabb! Even the contents of his wife's grocery bag all contain vegetables and kitchen spices. All of which are needed for their family's food. I will also fill my stomach! It was not rice, clothes, powder, let alone the name? Skincare which can cost five times the price of a bag of vegetables for the contents of the dining table. I could even spend more than that just for my snacks. Just make snacks, woy! My emotions.😤😤😤

Then, what if I get a husband who is eleven-twelve with the husband of the bar? Suddenly my stiff neck turned towards Maulana who was still waiting for me outside the shop. There he no longer chatted with his acquaintances because he had already left first. If yes, what about the fate of mamak and father who can not work hard because of the increasingly old?

Instantly I became reminded of Mbah Yem, the symbol of my playmates while still in the old village. At that time I was going to buy mamak's sugar. With trembling hands, his old hand held out five thousand money to Ma'am Sri, the owner of the stall. At that time, the five thousand money was still very valuable, but ...

"Sri, how is this? Mbah wanted to ask for help," he said still with his hands outstretched.

"What do you ask for, Mbah?"

"That money was given five thousand equal Niah, make cooking money. But this five thousand money is told to make a week, while at home all the kitchen spices have run out. But if Mbah does not cook and ask for more money before a week, Mbah will get angry. Please yes, Sri," she said with her old voice that shook violently as a result of holding back the cries.

Me?

My heart instantly grew crushed as the face of Mbah Yem turned into the face of my mother. My brain was so quick to imagine if only my mother had to beg like that. My heart is getting helpless. I'm afraid I'm not playing either. Why did the scene scare me like this? Is it because the mental who is not ready to get married and plus the dislike of Maulana that is the cause?