The Trap of Love Bockey Tengil

New sheet

Apparently I overslept. I rubbed my eyes, and was surprised to realize I was already in the room. Reflex I crossed both hands to cover the chest.

My eyes swept across the room in a very elegant, brown-and-white tone. Judging from the decoration, color and lack of items indicate the owner of this luxurious room is a man. Calm, neat and simple. Is this Om Gibran's room?

Then I lower my legs and step out to wet my throat that feels dry.

Down the stairs, I saw Om Gibran's back sitting on the sofa while busy with a laptop in front. Wanted to approach, but was sad. Finally my steps turned in the direction I thought it was the kitchen.

I poured water from a clear teapot into a small glass. Then sit down, then chug it down to the toilet.

Back these eyes observed the colors in this luxurious house. Room shades of brown white, living room sofa brown, now the color of the kitchen is also the same. It looks like Om Gibran the sweet color lover.

"Well? The sound of the baritone makes me reflexively rotate the body. Found Om Gibran walking with an empty glass and putting it in the sink.

"I'm thirsty" I replied, watching him.

Just this time I saw the man wearing casual clothes. Wearing a plain black shirt with short sleeves combined with pants on the knees cream-colored. Showing her clean white skin with fine hairs on the legs.

He's mangosteen.

"Laper too?"

"No."

"That." He pointed at my hand by raising one eyebrow. I don't know when there's an apple in my hand. I quickly put the apple back to where the fruit in the middle of the table. Could I have reached it unconsciously?

"Om not sleeping?" ask me to stop his steps that are about to pass.

She's looking. "Here I want to sleep. Wh why? Want me a kelonin?" tanyanya accompanied grin.

Isha! I'm thieving. Why do I ask that too. It doesn't really matter. Whether or not it's his business.

I'm budging. Washing my used drinking glass as well as Om Gibran's drink. After that, go back up to continue the dream that had paused.

The clock still pointed at two in the morning. There was still three hours to wait for dawn. In the middle of the stairs I almost fell because I yawned so sleepy.

"Lho, Om why sleep here?!" I ruffled my waist beside the sinless stone man on the soft mattress I had been sleeping on.

"Because this is my room" he said lightly with reluctant eyes open. He sleeps by folding both hands to the back of the head.

"But I don't want to sleep in the same room as Om Gibran!"

"Why indeed? Didn't we ever do more than that?" Her pink lips still responded even without opening her eyes.

"Just don't want to!"

"Whisper! Then get out. You can sleep on the guest couch."

"No want! Who should get out." I pulled out the thick blanket that covered her body. Then I tickled her stomach so she woke up and moved.

Instead of getting up, Om Gibran caught my hand and pulled it into the deck. I was silent for a few seconds before it finally broke out.

"Om what the fuck. Don't steal the chance, Dad!" I gave a warning while continuing to try to escape.

"Be quiet, don't move. You're gonna wake her up."

I waited for a while. Whereabouts? He said he'd wake up. His eyes are still so neat.

"That's my goal. Get Om up and out of this room." I kept on thrashing until I felt something hard down there. Whatisit?

For a second I looked at him confused. But in the next second I felt relieved that Om Gibran would give up and let me sleep freely on his soft mattress.

'This must be expensive. The material is smooth and soft like this.' I murmured in my heart while stroking dark choco colored bolsters in my arms.

Before I actually closed, I looked at Om Gibran who looked soundly on the sofa there. There's a hard feeling to pin down in here. Whether it's guilt, hate, or liking that is still a little left. I don't know. I felt trapped, no matter who. Or am I the perpetrator?

That night's events really had a big effect on my life. The loss of honor, hated by parents to be expelled from the house, then shunned by friends who until now had no news.

My number is the same and always active. But Rani, Siti, and Sari never once contacted me to just ask the news or send a short message just to mince words as usual. I was forgotten by them.

A mobile phone on a nightstand with a sleeping lamp.

If those three people still consider me a friend, and still keep my number in contact, they must have replied to the short message I sent this afternoon.

But in fact until now the message was only a check of two gray. Which means just beheaded or maybe ignored.

Apart from that, my hand moved in search of Mom's contact.

[Mother, I'm getting married tomorrow. I beg our blessing and ridhoi. Greetings to Father.]

Send. Directly check the two blue colors. It means you've read the message. Then I sent the location where I now live.

***

I peed my face in the mirror. The magic of make up really makes a person's face turn 180°. Even myself did not recognize when the beautiful hand had finished putting makeup on my face.

I scanned myself from top to bottom in front of the mirror. The white kebaya attached to my body is very beautiful and elegant. L like it. And again, the size fits perfectly on my body.

My height of only 155cm makes me look so tiny with a weight of no more than 45. Maybe because I haven't worn high heels.

"Excuse me, I want to put this on." A young woman came in with a box that I guessed were shoes.

Is correct. He told me to sit down, then took out a beautiful white shoe from the box, then put it on my foot.

Fit again. Size 38 like I used to wear.

After I finished dressing up, the two young ladies who had dressed me up led me down to the first floor where perhaps the groom had been waiting.

Arriving at the last step, a beautiful girl - who I saw from her face and stature like the same age as me, ran over while shouting.

"Well! The bride is so beautiful" she praised me from top to bottom.

"Thank you" I said, smiling. I saw there Om Gibran was also watching. For a moment our views met and locked each other. The man ... why always make my heart rhythmically irregular. I always managed to make my whole soul so adore him. Could it be that I'm going to hate the nyebelin widower who's going to be my husband soon?

Goddamnit! I ate my own words.

God, forgive me for not being able to lie about my feelings. You truly know everything.

The smile on my lips instantly disappeared when I remembered the absence of my Father and Mother on my wedding day. They must be embarrassed.

I understand, that my marriage is nothing more than a disgrace that must be closed tightly. I have tarnished the family's good name.

As much as possible I held the clear circle that almost dripped in the corner of the eye.

Although I have not been declared pregnant, but still I 'do it' before the agreement.

After the contract is over, a new chapter of my life has begun.