Sense of Sense

Jealous

Safira. Ignoring the pain in his south, he leaned slightly closer to Zain.

“Kok, Mas Zain said so?” safira asked, his voice almost stuck in the throat. “Harsha is still small, can not be independent like Mas Zain so mamah help.”

Zain looked at Sapphira grimly. “But Zain was also a child. Why didn't you help?”

“Not help, dear. Harsha was crying, you have to give milk to Harsha.” Sapphira calmed down as the pain slowly disturbed her. “Mas Zain can understand, ‘kan? Harsha is still small, can't do anything but cry.”

“Harsha crybaby. Zain also wants Mamah to help Zain, not Harsha continue.”

Sapphira looked a bit pale. He was at a loss for words to explain to Zain that he did not intend to ignore his son. However, Zain was a five-year-old child who was still limited in his understanding and he was equally limited.

Realizing that things were getting worse if he continued to try to explain, Safira fell silent while breathing out. Zain would probably really hate Harsha if he kept giving excuses. The only thing Safira can do right now is to give in and hope that Zain will behave as he always does.

“Mamah apologise. Come, now help me find the colored pencil,” persuade Safira, extend both hands to reach Zain's arm. However, Zain quickly dodged.

“No!” he shouted, taking two steps back to make Sapphira almost fell.

While propping up some of his body weight in the palm, Safira looked at Zain nanar. His feelings were hurt and anger slowly approached Sapphira like a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Sapphira closed her eyes and once again caught her breath, as soon as her eyelids opened she realized who she was dealing with. Zain was his son and should not he vent his anger even though Zain's current mannerisms nearly broke the limits of patience.

Sapphira bit her inner lips slightly and then smiled faintly. “Mamah apologise. Mom didn't mean to help Zain.” Sapphira slowly stood up and sat down, her beads looking straight at Zain's overcast face. “Now help Zain bolt find color pencil, yes?”

Zain was silent and that made Sapphira anxious. Usually Zain would be devastated if he hugged him or rubbed his head while sulking like this. So Safira carefully drew closer, opened her arms and was ready to take Zain into the arms.

“No!” Zain reflex pushes Sapphira's body to fall. “Zain doesn't like Harsha! Harsha dumped!”

“Zain!” snapped Alvin, approaching Sapphira. “You are okay?”

“Kok, you push Mamah?” he shouted at Zain who looked frightened. “You know your sins?”

“Zain accidentally?” great-grandson Zain, bow his head.

“Mas will tell Papah if you encourage Mamah, let you be punished.”

“Zain by accident.” Zain looked at Alvin with teary eyes. However, Alvin did not cancel his intention. “Mas Alvin naughty!”

After that Zain left in front of Alvin and Safira left the room by slamming the door. That loud voice finally reawakened Harsha who had just fallen asleep. The week old baby was crying again.

And not only Harsha was surprised, but also with Alvin and Sapphira. The two stared in disbelief at the door that swallowed Zain's whereabouts.

“You are okay?” ask Alvin again.

“Nothing.” Safira glanced at Harsha through her shoulder. “Alvin, mommy ask please—”

“Alvin know,” cut Alvin. “Mamah don't worry later Alvin persuade Zain to apologize.”

Safira stared at the puzzled Alvin who was walking out of the room, actually that was not what Safira wanted to ask for. However, Sapphira's attention is distracted by Harsha's cries that must be overcome immediately.

.

.

.

✄................................................