Sharing Love: My Husband Married Without My Permission

308. Hilman Wants to Have a Wife

I've been thinking about fixing my life. What can I do if I don't try as much as possible? It's been almost four nights I've been pondering and I think I've found the answer.

Today I took the money at the ATM, the bank closed because it's Sunday. By using public transportation I went to a motor showroom nearby and also the cheapest in this city.

Bismillah, may this be the opening path of my sustenance, my mind in my heart while staring at the showroom selling new and used motorcycles.

I started to step foot in there, an employee who saw me open the glass door, invited me to go in there.

"Please, Sir. Can we help you?" She asked.

"I'm looking for a motorbike, Mas. Look first, yes," I told him. He nodded and invited me to go in there.

"New or used motor, Mas?" he asked me kindly, I circulated my gaze towards the motors that were there, still without a plate indicating that this bike was new.

The new bike is inside while the old one is next to it, but it is still one name with this store.

"Used motor, anyway," I replied. He nodded then another man came over, dressed in a white and neat shirt, I guess this might be the manager in charge of this place. He asked me about my need to come here, I just told him what I needed.

The money in my wallet is about twelve million, actually there is still the rest of my mother's debt payment at that time in the ATM, instead of the new motor, there is still the rest of the money in the ATM, I can't bear to buy it because I'm still confused about Vita's business, don't let the money run out and I'll be confused if there's something impromptu related to money.

"Oh, that price? Ada, come with me" said the man after I mentioned the nominal money I brought. He pointed politely towards the side door. The new motor in the room I saw, touching it with my palm while sholawat. Hopefully someday I can buy a better one, one of the rows of motorcycles in this room. Aamiins.

In the next room I was served with many used motorcycles, from the cheapest to the most expensive there. The man who drove me pointed at a couple of bikes with the price range I meant.

I looked and asked a lot, about the exact price and also looked at the license plate, the five-year tax on the bike. Do not want to feel just take it home and a few months later have to out the money to pay the tax. If it could also be the previous owner the address is not too far from here so that I can borrow his ID card when paying annual taxes later.

Finally I dropped the choice on a blue white matic motorbike, just matic to make it easier to work later, also for the convenience of Vita if I take her for a walk outside.

Payment has been made. The warranty given by the showroom is also one week after the motor is taken home. If there are obstacles with the machine, the showroom will take responsibility and fix it.

The bike I brought home, the mother who was on the terrace gawking saw me who had just entered through the fence. Quiet with open mouth, amazed.

"Whose bike is it?" mother asked, she stood up and approached me. My bike is parked in the yard next to my house.

"Man, whose bike is this?" ask again.

"Motor Hilman, Mom."

"Huh? You bought another bike?" ask mom in surprise. Vita from the front of the door stood by holding onto the rattan chair, painstakingly creeping in order to want to come to me. I passed by my mother and approached my beloved daughter. Kissing her cheeks with gauntlet.

"This is your bike?" ask the mother again, the good bike was stroked and looked carefully.

"You," he said clearly while nodding happily. Vita did not speak well, but some words he could say very clearly.

"How do you buy another bike? He said money can't be made, but you bought a new bike." I heard the voice of my mother protesting.

"Hilman bought a motorbike also for business, ma'am. Mau ngojek," I said.

"Ngojek? You want ngojek? What do people say you'll be ngojek, man?" ask mom to protest.

I wasn't looking at mom, focusing more on Vita now playing my phone.

"Why would Hilman notjek, ma'am? Yesterday aja his son became a parking attendant same porters market Mother did not protest," said I was still calm.

"Yes, that was yesterday, Man. Now you will have a name, work in the factory so foreman," said the mother again.

"The name is still the same, Mom. Coolie. What difference? Cooperation together under pointing people really."

"Man–."

"Already, don't protest too much, ma'am. What is wrong with Hilman ngojek? After all, many also come home from work while ngojek really. It's good to add. Especially our lives like this. Hilman needs an additional marriage again," said my origin.

"Huh? You want to get married again? Same who? How do you not know?" mother asked, now his quick and rough footsteps approached me, sitting himself in the rattan chair beside me. Mother looked at me sharply while I turned my gaze to Vita.

"Yes, who is it, ma'am. Kan Hilman is also not possible forever will live alone, Hilman may not not love Vita love a mother. From his grandmother doang mah less attention to him," I said casually to mother.

"Who's the guy?" ask mom again. "Why didn't you tell Mom before? You don't consider me Mom, huh?" ask mom with emotion.

This time I looked at my mother. "Kan Hilman said one day, Mom. Not now," I said.

She still wasn't satisfied with the answer I gave. "Yes, but who? Do you have a candidate?" ask mom, not enthusiastic, but like protesting.

"Not know, but Hilman has a thought for marriage again so Hilman wants to work while ngojek also in order to be able to cuddle for marriage Hilman later," I said casually.

"So, where do you want to live? You're not staying with me, are you?" mother asked, from the tone of her voice sounded worried.

"Depending, if you can accept Hilman's future wife later and mother does not interfere about Hilman's marriage, of course Hilman will not be far from Mother."

Mom is silent now. Actually pity as well, but if I don't give this kind of ultimatum to mom, will you understand? Obviously I don't want to be a widower for the third time. Uh, am I a widower once or twice anyway?