Sensational Substitute Husband

The Secret of Kenan's Heart

Kenan POV

Flashback On!

11 Years ago...

My name is Naufal Kenan. I was an orphan raised in Al-Rahman orphanage. This year I'm 20 to 21. Supposedly tomorrow is my scheduled departure to Singapore to continue my S2 studies as a surgeon on a full scholarship which I received thanks to my achievements so far.

But last night I received the sad news that the wife of the mentor who will soon be my former mentor, died. Without thinking, I canceled my departure time today, pushed back to a week later.

My mentor Farzan Abrisam's name. He was more than a mentor to me, but I considered him a father. There was so much education that I gained from it, both knowledge and moral education. Even before I received the scholarship, the S1 education fee that I had just completed 2 months ago was mostly financed by him without asking me for anything in return. He only asked me to study well in order to be successful with my career. His service in my life is huge. So, let alone delay, even cancel my departure to Singapore to continue my S2 studies I will not hesitate, he said, if that makes me able to be by his side when he is at the lowest point in his life like today.

This morning around 9 a.m., his wife's body was buried. And now the time has shown at 16 o'clock where he and I have just finished performing the Ashar prayer. Since coming home from the funeral, I have always been faithful to be by his side, alert if - if he falls in a bad state. But thankfully, until now he did not show signs - signs will fall.

"Aren't you tired of following me all that time?" look, even when he asked me that question, he could still smile. But it's pretty clear I see it pinned the fun in it.

"No." I replied briefly.

"Hufh.." he breathed a heavy breath that I can guess that he was beginning to get caught off guard by my existence. But I didn't care, I pretended to be indifferent as if I didn't realize it. Not that I became an ungodly adopted son, I just didn't want him to fall down when I wasn't by his side, so that I couldn't at least be his back.

"Alright, do as you please." he shook his hand at me. Not a throw out, but a sign of surrender. "By the way, I want to see Fara, it seems that from this morning she has not eaten. You wanna come?" proposals later.

Although I have never met in person, I know enough the names of my mentor's family members based on what he told me many times when we were relaxing. Fara, if not wrong it is the name of the princess only wayangnya with Maya, his wife who is now already in the status of late house.

"Of course Kenan will come along, Dad" I replied happily accepting his offer.

"Come on!"

Chequek...

After knocking on the door and exclaiming to call the owner of the room several times, but never got a response from inside the room, my mentor immediately opened the door without waiting again. It seems he has lost his patience. But not necessarily he expressed his impatience in the form of anger when we had entered the room.

As for me, I would love to curse the girl I'm a 13-year-old who was immersing herself while sobbing in the blanket. Especially when I had a quick glance when we had just entered this room. Apart from myself who is indeed a person who does not like to wait, at least he appreciates my mentor, his own father who has been voicing since then - koar calling while knocking on the door from the outside. Is it hard to say it just once? My first impression of my mentor's daughter was really bad. I thought of him as a pampered little rancid boy, regardless of the circumstances he was going through. It's not that I don't sympathize with his sadness, I just don't like his attitude that seems to be so disrespectful to his own father that I also consider him my father. But there's no way that I'm spilling my emotions. I didn't have enough courage to do it that I believed, my mentor would backlash me who seemed heartless.

"Hufh.." This is the second time I've found my mentor breathing so hard that I believe, he's currently devastated to see the state of his daughter who does look very sad. "Son, please stop crying! Hold me there, I'm calm there. If Mom saw you like this, I'd be very sad" she said.

But Fara, the rancid boy did not flinch at all - again making my blood boil. My hands clenched very tightly down there, where my mentor kept trying to talk and comfort his daughter, but never got a response. Until finally my mentor gave up and put on the nightstand, a tray that carried a bowl of porridge and a glass of water that had been carried since. Before leaving, he took the time to remind the princess to eat the porridge and drink the water too of course. As for me, following in his footsteps, I placed one of my handkerchief collections right next to the tray, then followed in my mentor's footsteps, leaving the rancid boy's room.

I don't know, I don't understand what I just did either. What made me give you that handkerchief? Although it is not an expensive handkerchief, even impressed cheap, the handkerchief is very valuable to me. It was one of the handkerchiefs specially made for me with the embroidery of my full name initials 'NK' in one corner, by the mother of the parlour whom I had already considered my own mother. Her name is Ayudia, her position in my heart might be on par with my mentor, Farzan, as a figure I already consider to be my parents. Maybe it's part of my empathy, I concluded eventually.

>>>

The next day...

Like yesterday, today I have always stayed by Farzan's side ever since I set foot again in my mentor's residence. And almost at the same time as yesterday, we went back to see the rancid boy who said he still did not stop lamenting sadness. But this time my impression of the rancid boy was a little different, I no longer considered him a spoiled whiny girl. After the inner contemplation I did, I considered it natural. Maybe yesterday I thought of it that way, just because I had never experienced it. Especially after my mentor told me how close the relationship was between his daughter and his late wife, it completely broke the response I had concluded using only logic.

But, the nickname rancid boy seems like I can't let go. Could it be that the girl used the handkerchief I left behind yesterday as a snot swab? And even more strangely, despite my anger, I gave back one of my other collections of handkerchiefs.

It was not enough to get there, the third and fourth day, I went back to doing similar actions, actions that were completely opposite between my mind and mind. Fortunately, on the fifth and sixth days I no longer found the handkerchief I gave the rancid boy, used as a snot swab, but was used as it should be. It made me a little relieved and I don't know why I feel so happy. And on the seventh day, or the last day before my departure tomorrow to Singapore, I no longer intend to give you a handkerchief, but a box of market-branded tissue that I bought in the mini market.

"Use it to wipe all your tears so your father doesn't see you shed a tear. It's sad, but don't show it to your dad. Because you are not the only one saddened by the passing of your mother, your father did too. So, if your father sees you grieving, then he'll be even sadder." That was the first and last conversation between me and the girl. And for some reason, there was a sense of disrespect in the recesses of my deepest heart to leave it.

Flashback off!