The Destiny of Miana's Love

TCM 91'S

Dusk slowly descended, replacing the light of the Surya. Miana is out of the office and booked an ojek online to go home. Not to the hotel like the division head's instructions. But go home to Bi Num.

Mama, Bi Num, I'm here. That's the word that's lodged in the heart.

Luckily he came on Saturday. Tomorrow there is one day in Bi Num's hometown. Also one place he had to visit was the grave of his mother.

Notifications on his phone have been sent a number of transfers to stay at the hotel. In fact, the company deliberately gave a surplus bonus. However, Miana had no interest in using it to stay at the hotel. Better to keep it.

Arriving at Bi Num's house, Miana has been warmly welcomed by Bi Num and her son, Hasan. The boy had already entered the middle school age of his first year.

"Great man, you, Hasan. How are you?"

"Good news, Ma'am," said Hasan while kissing Miana's hand.

That's sweet, that teenager. Still following the upload in the surrounding area. Like respecting the older ones.

"Bi, I feel again welcomed girlfriend, this is," joked Miana to the smiling Bi Num standing on the porch of the house.

"God, wes. Enter first! Later make jokes." Bi Num took Miana straight into the house.

From the front of the fence, a person who several times watched Miana seemed to undo his intention to go down.

The relatively small house only has two rooms, one living room and a rather spacious kitchen section. With a yard not too wide covered iron fence that has been rusted.

Finished cleaning up, Miana ate together with Bi Num and Hasan. After talking for a while, ask about the news and family at home. Miana also told me what it was, how Miranti still blamed him for the death of the father. Until he survived in the dormitory by relying on online shop business that the results are really unexpected. Because, Miana not only sells fashion products but also food n drinks from street vendors who usually go not far from the dorm. Armed with a motorcycle loan, Miana became an impromptu courier at that time.

"I don't think so, Mom. Ma'am Miana was able to get through it all herself." Hasan really showed his admiration.

"Eat him, don't lose to girls, you, San!" Bi Num reminds her son while cutting red onions to fry.

After the conversation, Bi Num went to bed first. While Miana and Hasan are still busy telling stories.

"Eh, Ma. Should I take you to Angkringan?" ask Hasan.

Miana thought for a moment and before long she nodded. Soon the two walked on foot. Only a hundred meters away they met the mouth of the alley. Hasan never stopped telling me how his activities during school. Miana is a good listener. They still have to walk three hundred meters again both just arrived at angkringan near the railway crossing.

"Suitt suitt,"

"Have your girlfriend, San."

"Crazy. Hasan's on the leaves. Once you have a boyfriend, no responsibility."

Hasan was just a whimper. Not chiming in anything. He was even busy calming Miana, so as not to feel disturbed. "They're my friends, ma'am. I used to be their target."

"Quiet, I get it, all right." Miana shook her hands so Hasan would no longer hesitate.

Viewing the menu in angkringan. Miana was given a small plate and Miana herself filled whatever she would order.

"What do you drink, Mother?" ask Hasan.

"Jahe's warm, yeah."

"OK,"

Once the order is obtained, Hasan invites Miana to sit down at the place that has been provided. Hasan deliberately stayed away from her friends to keep Miana comfortable.

Enough lighting and nighttime sensations while watching the passing train make Miana entertained. Hasan who is fun makes Miana occasionally laugh because of it.

Until the ringing of Miana's phone displays Bi Num's contact and makes Miana and Hasan go home immediately.

"So there was someone who was looking for Miana" said Bi Num when Miana entered the house.

Miana and Hasan looked at each other. Then Miana went back to Bi Num. "Who, Bi. Miana doesn't know anyone here."

Bi Num led Miana to sit down. "Auntie doesn't know either. When aunt asked, she said, workmate."

"So weird, anyway. They can contact if it is important. Why come to everything."

Although still continue to disturb, Miana did not want to take a headache. He immediately fell asleep without awkwardly beside Bi Num.

☘️

Time still shows the number two over thirty minutes. However, the atmosphere in the kitchen was nothing new to Miana.

In the past when rented, it has become a friend every day.

"Fry the chicken, that's, that's in the basin." Bi Num pointed at the fried chicken.

"Where's the sleep, Ma'am?" asked Hasan without leaving his activities to pack crackers on plastic.

"Lumayan, comfortable, anyway," Miana replied as she occasionally stirred the chicken in the frying pan and turned to her interlocutor.

"Sorry friends Hasan, yes, Ma'am. They can't see the clear. Here, mah, ordinary. Girls in such a flirt."

"Ah, usual. No problem."

"Yourselves, is it okay in the bully one barrel like that?"

"That's them joking doang, Ma'am. They are not much different from me. Same street vendor's son." With a chuckle Hasan told me about his friends.

There is a sense of pride when you see teenagers of that age already know how to help their mother. If he remembered Arga and Bian, they did not necessarily feel how difficult it was to collect money for school fees.

☘️

Foot tiered training pants with a black t-shirt behind a crimson bomber jacket were observing a figure among the crowd in the chicken porridge shop.

From where he sat, he smiled behind a white duckbill mask. Several times his hand was stretched out to aim at the object he was looking for. Several times he also took the wrong position.

Instead of being upset, he smiled meaningfully. When the queue slowly subsides, that's when he can aim as he wants.

Every now and then one of his left hands sipped the contents of the coffee cup with his right hand scrolling through the phone screen to check the results.

"You haven't changed. Still the tough girl I know."

Lips are on their backs with fingers as if touching a figure on the screen.

"I'm confused as to what to say when we meet later." This time, the yellow-skinned East Asian man dared to stare from his seat.

"I'm afraid you don't recognize me. Even worse than that. You hate me."

"Hhhhhhhhhh," he sighed with his head lowered and immediately looked straight back.

Many people pass by because on this main road is holding a car free day. So there is no car or motorcycle. Various food stalls and street vendors dominated the place. Before it will function again when the operating hours that have been determined will be reopened.

The idea arose when the man saw a fresh florist on the side of the road. He ordered one rose in a polybag and specifically asked the seller to pack it in a pot. There are already a few rose buds ready to bloom.

After paying and saying thank you, he quickly passed from there.

"Ck. Not yet, this is my way." He looked at the flower in a pot that was not so big in the hand. "Ck. I'm not the romantic kind of thing."

On returning to his original place, the now twenty-two-year-old man frowned as his target shop was already packing up. There was no woman he was looking for. There were only two men of different ages with some rice thermos being in the rickshaw.

The heart must come closer and air the whereabouts of the woman he noticed some time ago.

"Excuse me, sir," he said.

"Sorry, Mas. The chicken porridge, it's over." The young man replied first.

I thought I'd buy some porridge. " Ah, i it's. Mean.... Yes, that's it." He rubbed his neck to reduce his nervousness.

"I'm sorry, my mother."

One chance to meet has vanished before my eyes. Disappointed and sorry for sure. If he had not been making it up to buy flowers earlier, maybe the chance to meet was still in sight.

With weight he began to turn the steps. He wrote a rose plant on his left hand and smiled bitterly.

"If not today. Will meet tomorrow."

With a shunt he began to swing a step. Just three steps from the store that has closed, eyes are glued and feet are difficult to move.

The figure standing in front of him was so anesthetizing to his sight. Not wanting to turn away a bit.

The original black hair that was shaved with a few strands fell in the morning breeze. Long-sleeved white t-shirts with Navi-colored jeans are also white snakers cladding her appearance. The apron was already detached and was in his left hand. The eyes are now met with a view as if locking the target so as not to disappear quickly.

"Argha,"

☘️