SPARE WIFE

Episode 6

“Bi, where were you?” ibra asked as she returned to the kitchen after she finished cleaning. Rahma was not seen there.

“Go to supermarket, Sir. Buy kitchen needs.” Bi Mirna directly gave warm tea to Ibra. As per Rahma's order.

“Mr where to go? Busy as it is?” Bi Mirna stood beside Ibra who was sitting on the chair.

“My work is much, yesterday was too long on vacation.” Ibra does take care of the abandoned work. In addition, he felt that he was not ready for a roof with Rahma without the presence of Marissa.

During this one week also his communication with Marrisa went smoothly. Although in every talk Marrisa brought Rahma, Ibra still enjoyed it.

She missed Marissa. They miss the good nights they just enjoyed. It's too short, Ibra realized this is the risk that Marrisa had warned about before.

There's Rahma near you, Ibra. He is halal to you. Suddenly Marrisa's voice was ringing in Ibra's head.

“Where is he now, Bi?” ask Ibra.

As if knowing what the master meant, Bi Mirna smiled again. “That means Rahma's mother?”

Hearing the call ‘Mother Rahma’ made Ibra raise her eyebrows. “Why is she also called like Mother Marrisa?”

“She is also the wife of Father, right?”

Ibra sipped a warm tea slowly. He should calm down, accept Rahma's status in this house. Same position as Marissa. It's just that, Marrisa wasn't here until such an uncertain time.

“People are good, Sir. Smart cook, make cake. And once close, he's very taffy. Auntie found it easy to get close to him. Moreover, he likes gardening, flowers in the garden behind him who takes care of. Aunty feels like seeing Madame Nadira in this house.”

Ibra was confused by Bi Mirna.

“Why is Aunt promoting him? Don't equate him with Mama. Clearly different,” hiss Ibra upset.

“Aibi doesn't say the same, but it's similar. Cobain deh, these brownies made by Rahma's mother. This is the second time he has made and it feels similar to Madam Nadira.” Bi Mirna opens the hood. It just so happens that Rahma's brownies have already been made. Ibra tried to taste the brownies. It felt so much like the mother, Ibra's heart could not lie. Even when he got home, the smell of this cake did welcome him. Ibra felt like she was going home to her parents.

Ibra had suspected the presence of the mother in this house, although the possibility was very slim. Given that this house is still a secret, Ibra has not told this house to her parents. Too dangerous. Moreover, the presence of Rahma, this secret must be kept forever.

“Enak, right?” Ibra's reverie is interrupted by Bi Mirna's voice.

“Iya similar,” honest Ibra.

“May you always be attentive with Ms Rahma. He seems like a good man.”

Ibra scoffed in the heart. Good but selling the baby.

“Now where is he?” ask Ibra. Like it not like, Ibra must try to be close to Rahma. Just imagining it makes his head woozy. Marissa, son, and marriage. All become one, even plus Rahma.

“I'll see him.” Ibra is breathing calmly. Must face. Ibra stood up and immediately stepped up. The place where Rahma is.

Ibra should discuss the agreement and agreement between Rahma and Marrisa. Ibra will finish it. Marrisa has advised about the money Rahma received and his repayment. Remembering that made Ibra even more incredulous. Rahma actually sold her flesh blood for money.

After climbing the stairs, Ibra saw the figure of his second wife back. Still dressed the same as before, Rahma sat on the sofa available there. Staring at the television screen with unclear eyes. Surprisingly, Rahma was also slipping earphones in her ears. It seems to be listening to a song. Ibra shook her head, you strange woman.

“Rahma, can we talk?” Rahma seemed unaware that Ibra was standing next to her.

“Rahma,” call Ibra again, Rahma is still faithfully listening to the song. Ibra saw Rahma moving her head casually.

And with an unexpected move, Rahma was slightly surprised. He looked directly at the side. Ibra just pulled Rahma's ear slowly. “Can we talk?” ibra said that he did not care about the reaction of Rahma's dislike. Ibra passed Rahma to sit on the sofa beside her.

“Can greet me politely, right?” cynical Rahma is upset. “I'm not a naughty little boy.” Rahma rubbed the soft ear that Ibra had just pulled.

Ibra nodded unconcernedly. “So I've called you, but you didn't hear,” replied Ibra honestly.

“There's still another way, right?” cynical Rahma.

“Maybe surprise you will look more mainstream.”

“What do you need?” asked Rahma, turning her face away. Why nervous, huh?

“How are you?” ibra asked a little clumsy. Suddenly looking closer at Rahma made him speechless. Ibra admitted, Rahma looks charming. A simple way to dress, makeup strokes that are not too domineering. Rahma appears as is. She is Marissa with a simple version.

“Good,” Rahma's answer is really short.

Ibra won't take it.

“Good in the sense?”

“Alright,” replied Rahma again.

“Good.” Ibra nodded, then went back to researching Rahma. Rahma's hand became the center of his attention. Around his arms it looks red.

“Hand of you why?”

“Because of the oven tip earlier.” Again Rahma answered briefly and kept turning her face away. Ibra almost got stuck. Should Rahma chimed in, shouldn't their communication be intertwined?

“Sick no?”

“According to you?” ask Rahma. And this time Rahma dared to look at Ibra's face. Maybe he's getting pissed.

“According to me sick.” Rahma grew increasingly irritated at Ibra's response.

What does this guy want? A week of not giving news, then came suddenly behaving pretentiously as it is now.

“Already know it looks sick, why still ask?” rahma is getting upset.

“You don't know people are chatting?” Rahma widened her eyes. This fella?

“What pleasantries? You are weird, you know. A week no news, and now come trying to get along with me? Forgot if there's another wife at home?” Somehow Rahma felt the need to vent her heart. Disappointed to be left. Strange you are Rahma, don't act like his real wife. “Sorry.” Rahma realized she was exaggerating. Ibra just silently stared at Rahma's emotions.

“Let's just say I've never heard your strange grunts,” explained Ibra calmly.

Rahma still turned her face, though inevitably she had to nod. “Iya.”

“Marrisa send greetings,” says Ibra again. Rahma did not answer. This was the first time they were sitting together in a situation that could be considered awkward. They are lawful husband and wife, though.

“Marrisa also said, do you always keep your health?” What kind of question is that?

“As you can see,” replied Rahma ketus again.

Ibra raised her eyebrows again. Why is he angry? “What am I doing wrong with you?” Rahma wanted to stand up but Ibra first held Rahma's hand. Forcing Rahma to sit down.

“Listen, we need to talk! You're not stupid if we have to get close?” Ibra's question is very frontal. Rahma is getting nervous. He knows what to do with Ibra.

“Iya, I know.”

“Therefore we must talk about it now!” Ibra pulls Rahma's hand to sit on a sofa with her. Rahma followed without rebutting, Ibra's hand could not be released.

“Sorry if this one week I did not accompany you,” said Ibra slowly, aware maybe Rahma was just as nervous as him. Ibra was also nervous, but she had to put up with it. Ibra felt the coldness of Rahma's hand. Right, his second wife was probably nervous. Maybe Ibra will work on it a little. There is no harm, inner Ibra spoke.

“We have to get used to this, Rahma. I need close to you.”

Rahma held her breath as Ibra's face approached towards her.

No, not now!