The Prince's Chess Piece
A Piece of Old Wound
The wound signal slipped from the netra of the owner of the handsome face of the Indonesian-Dutch crossbreed. He was very fortunate to inherit Dutch blood from his late grandfather. So that the body as high as 187 cm and the nose sticking out into an attraction that is often loved by women to have a side by side.
He is now sitting with both hands clinging to each other's fingers on his own knees. The gaze bowed lethargic as if without the passion of life as usual. His heart was hurting, considering the events of 15 years ago when the father had the heart to throw his mother. Who is dying helplessly due to end-stage brain cancer that is being suffered by the mother.
Letting a woman of noble heart like the goddess of heaven roll weak helplessly, in a hospital bed without looking at her stuff once until death. Given the events, his old wounds recurred. He had learned to forgive his father and forget all the things that had happened to his mother. Considered as the destiny of the possessor of the Lord of the Universe.
However, his stepmom's mutter had just instantly scattered the old wounds he had painstakingly buried.
The night continues to climb the silent peak, offering giggles of dancing on the more memory-stripping wishful thinking; ruffling all the memories. Forcing him to enter the countless lara holes once again.
Beside him, sat the young girl hesitantly accompanying. Although the distance does not invite conflict, the two different types of people choose to remain silent. However, Kinanthi's brain always does not want to be invited to compromise, until he remains confused in the worry that comes ambushing.
“Master,” call it down.
Wish he could get down a sentence, just offering comforting words. Hope what the middle master feels it can be diverted goods for a moment.
“Can you just shut up?”
Kinanthi understood Mr. Nabastala's answer. The man prefers to drift in his own inner permanence. The silence returned, both of them were silent to each other. Just the sound of a puff of breath became the only rhythm that could be heard in the ears.
Until Kinanthi got lost in his drowsiness which darted into silence. The head of the girl nodded unintentionally towards her master. And the man inched closer, giving up his shoulders to lean the young girl sleeping next to him.
Mr. Nabastala himself rested his head on the sofa so that he did not feel so tired with the burden of Kinanthi's head that was leaning.
Back his memory visited the events of an afternoon that began to dim. Where he was at home alone after returning home from extra-curricular activities at his school. While his mother was hospitalized, his father came home from work to bring a woman named Laura, he knew when she introduced herself. “Laura Pratiwi's. Commonly called Ara.” So called.
Since then, his father often invited a woman named Laura to come home. Not even hesitating to ask a woman his mother's age to stay overnight. In front of Nabastala they are intimate. No hesitation in showing off affection. Worse yet, kissing in front of Nabastala is something they usually show off.
Oh, I can imagine. How does the young blood turmoil with a messy mindset respond to his papa's behavior? One night he plans to kill the two depraved humans who have destroyed his family.
Unfortunately, the plan that has been arranged very neatly falls apart because of the news from the hospital that tells the news of grief. Her mother has gone home. Nabastala was in shock. That was the first reaction to his hearing. He had to choose to abandon his intentions.
Forty days after the death of her mother, the woman named Laura succeeded her mother until now. Although initially never willing, gradually over the years, he finally wanted to make peace with his own heart and received his stepmom with the call ‘Mama’.
“Huh ...”
The man whose daily life looked so great exhaled his breath. Rubbed his face over and over again. If there were no sleeping Kinanthi next to him, he could have kicked the table in front of him.
“Argh ...” Finally he chose to groan like someone in pain. Ja. He was in pain in his heart.
Kinanthi who fell asleep leaning on Mr. Nabastala's shoulder was disturbed. And woke up hearing that moaning. The cute girl moved her head, her neck hurt.
“Sorry.” Kinanthi. His sleepiness had not completely disappeared.
“It's late, sleep again there!”
He did not answer his master's orders. Rubbed his eyes both. To make it look perfect before stepping.
“Master is okay?” Kinanthi asked before leaving her master.
“As you see now.”
“Then, Kinan goes down first. Sir is also quick to rest.”
“Hah?”
The gaze of Mr. Nabastala swooped sharply, striking the bead depths of Kinanthi's eyes. Make the girl try to shift her seat. Unfortunately, the burly hand was ahead of grabbing his waist, not giving him the chance to shift his seat in the least.
An increasingly distant view, meeting the lips of Mr. Nabastala with Kinanthi's forehead. A hot kiss ambushed. The body that had felt the fever was shaking.
“Kinan, you sick?”
Kinanthi lowered her head, not answering any questions. If he confessed as he had, his master's attention would be even more excessive. And he doesn't want it to happen again. However, if he does not answer it does not mean he can just escape from the question that was just thrown by a super handsome man beside him. He must soon find a way to escape, otherwise ....
“Kinan.” Mr Nabastala's hand has touched Kinanthi's forehead first, “you have a fever?”
Forced a small nod in response.
“Kok, didn't say from earlier? Have you taken your medicine?”
“Kinan just need a break, Sir,” he said softly.
Agilely Mr. Nabastala carried Kinanthi's body to the bed. No matter the little girl who tries to thrash in the arms. He poured it out with great care, a porcelain tub that was expensive.
“You rest first, I'll get the fever medicine.”
The man with the short-sleeved t-shirt walked away. Kinanthi did not blink looking at the back that was getting so late, inevitably he was admitting his heart had now been tethered.
Lord, could it be that the man You deliberately sent as my soul mate?
••••
“Drink first the medicine,” orders Mr. Nabastala while thrusting a drinking glass.
“Thank you, Mr.”
“Not need.”
Attentively the man with a faint look was trying to envelop Kinanthi's body, after putting a glass filled with leftover drinks on the nightstand. Again a warm kiss landed on the forehead of the girl lying down. It looks like a couple of lovers are mixing romance.
“Kinan, thank you.” Mr. Nabastala spoke with trembling lips.
“For what, Mister?”
Plain girls like Kinanthi whose IQ is just average like normal humans in general, immediately decreased drastically because they are in love. Until it looks real stupid.
“Thank you, for proving that in this world there are still good women who deserve to be called good.”
Kinanthi's eyeballs widened, “So pessimistic Mr towards women?”
“It used to be like that, but now it's not. Since your presence has changed that narrow view.”
The lips are curved together, like finding pieces of a puzzle that complement each other.
Love can change everything in an instant. Someone who is initially pessimistic can turn into an optimist, and vice versa. It depends on each individual, how he puts the position of love itself. As an encouragement or just as an obstacle.
