Sense of Sense

Door

Plaque!

A loud slap landed on the foreign man's cheek.

Safira was astonished by his quick reflexes at once with the courage of the foreign man approaching him. In an instant his instincts sent out a danger signal and his slap just now was just a form of defensive posture.

“Bu, I just want an interview,” said the man, sounding unacceptable.

However, Safira did not respond. He quickly turned around and walked quickly towards the door. He opened and closed it hard, holding the door leaf with his narrow back.

Safira grew increasingly panicked as the foreign man knocked on the door and called out to her. “Go you! Or I report the police!” shouts Safira, her manic moves restlessly to the corner of the room. Damn, he forgot where to put the phone.

“Bu, I just want an interview. I beg you, Bu.” The man kept knocking on the door. “After aja. If you do not want to be interviewed I can get a boss again.”

If only he was not in the condition he is today, Safira would certainly feel compassion with the tone of the foreign men outside the door of his house.

“I don't care. Now you go! I do not hesitate to call the police and win you,” threatened Safira, sounds quite convincing even though the reality is he is still trying to remember where his smartphone is.

“Bu, I have no malicious intentions. Please don't report me to the police station.”

Safira's forehead wrinkled, her expression full of consideration. Certainly not considering the request of foreign men outside, but devising an impromptu plan so that he could inform Ashqar of his current state.

Safira recalls that her phone was in the kitchen and what upset her was that the house key was in the television room, while the door of her house was not equipped with a slot key. It was clearly not favorable for Safira's position.

So one way he can get away with it is to stay calm. Safira tried to loosen the pressure of her body on the door and she was slightly pushed. In a hurry he held back the door.

“Bu! Want to be interviewed?”

Holding his chest, his heart almost down to the stomach, Safira chuckled small when he knew that the man was aware of his movements and was interpreted differently.

Safira quickly rotates the brain. He had to buy time until Ashqar arrived or get the man off guard so he could take the key.

“What interview do you mean?”

“Mother want?” ask the man enthusiastically. Not wanting to waste a chance, the young man pulled out his cold phone and turned the recorder. “It's about your husband gossip with actress Nita. Are they really looking to refer?”

“Refer?” safira's monologue is confused.

All he knows is that the gossip only discusses that Nita has a boyfriend and Ashqar's photo is reported as the girlfriend of Nita. Although there were some gossip portals, which Sapphira secretly read and followed, wrote that Nita's status was a widow, that her husband's name was mentioned there, but no one said the two were ex-husbands. So since when did the rumors change so quickly?

“Bu?”

Safira flashes. His heart thumping crazily, between fear and curiosity, he could not calm down like the plan. While biting her lips, Safira took a deep breath and opened the door.

The surprised face of the man greeted Safira. “B-bu?”

Sapphira squinted, hardening her jaw as Ashqar often does when reprimanding her wayward employees. “Who are you? How do you know they want to refer?”

“So it's real, Bu?” ask the man enthusiastically.

“Yes, no!” answer Safira quickly. “You don't fuck around, yeah. Let alone you who have been making rumors between Nita and my husband. Yes, ‘kan?”

Seeing the man in front of him, Safira was increasingly convinced that the rumors circulating all along were his act and there might be others considering the man mentioned the superior.

“Why are you quiet? What I said really, ‘kan?”

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Connect~

See you next week. Happy weekend, everyone

(づ￣ ³￣)づ