THE BEST BROTHERS

S3 Love For Their Prologue

“At the end of September and the longing that begins to fade in the thunderous rain overnight. So should I tear my eyes. So you can understand my life is like a dry season without you raining.”

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I took a sip of the hot chocolate I made, a little relief to this troubled mind of mine, who still remembers your shadow when we were together. Now, whatever I am, I'm just a wife that my husband may never consider his presence. Yes, my husband, he still can't forget his late beloved wife, nor can I.

I am a woman, even though I am the same as my husband, cannot forget someone who has been present in his life. But I am still trying to be the best for my husband. It hurts to be a woman or a wife who is not considered, very sick. It's all because of the son of my husband now, who wants me to be a regular mom for him. Also my children who want him to be a father connect for him.

All because of our children, for the sake of our children, even though we do not love each other, we remain the best parents for them, playing in front of them like a happy couple. But, what do I get? Just a void, a deep pain.

If I choose to live or die, I choose to die with my husband first, and give my children to the father of my late husband. But I can't give up, I have to be the best mother for my children and the son of my husband right now.

"The kids are going to school?"ask my husband who broke my daydream.

"Well, are you going to the office?"ask her.

"Yes, I'm leaving, you're not working today?"he answered and asked me.

"I'm going to the office, I want to see Vera at the boutique, have a little business." I said.

"Want me to take you?"ask her.

"No, I use my own car." I replied.

"Yes I've left."pamit him. I kissed her hand, and there was no reply from her, whether it was kissing my forehead or cheek. He immediately left me for the office without further ado. Is this the fate of my marriage now?

I can only cry in my heart, I can no longer shed these tears, these tears are used up to mourn my life first, after my late husband left, how cruel is the world to treat a widow, to harass, even to scorn. That's how I've felt since I was in Germany, continuing my papah company there. To support my two children in the land of men.

Even though I was with relatives from my papah, but I felt alone. And after I returned to Indonesia, it all became like this. My son wants to have a father, what they choose is him. As for the son of my husband now, he chose me to be a mother. She loved me like her own mother. Especially my husband, he chose me to be a wife for his son. My husband's brother is like that too. Is this what my husband and I call just giving love to them? Yes, they, my children, my husband's children and my husband's parents are also my husband's sisters. Or those who try to make us love each other? But, I think that's impossible. It can't happen to us.

As long as I'm going to continue like this, I don't know when it's going to end soon. I live with a man called a husband, but I live alone, lonely without the presence of a real husband.

I really miss my late husband at a time like this.

"Do you know, honey. It's like the days I've been through now, the three years you left me, and now, I have to live with another man who became my husband, I don't love him, he doesn't love me. Is this what you want? I have to marry your older brother who used to love me, trying to get me, but, now, that love is gone. Nothing, dear. You really can torture me like this." - I muttered in my heart.

It's hard to erase a trail that's hard to hide

What ploy have you made, until nature is not ready to abolish

You know that already, right ? I'm frail with that rhyme

It is getting colder with the rain

Now, let this temple stay here

With the rhythm of the rain.

"I miss you, my son, who always made me smile." I wrote a poem I used to read in a collection of poems on a piece of paper I found on the living room table.

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5Happy REJOIN.

sorry just prolog, later the contents of the story mayil up his dear.pity Rico and Andini, ask to write the story until it runs out. Envy maybe with her children.