The Trap of Love Bockey Tengil

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"Why is that so?" The dashing man with the slippery suit attached to his body turned to the side where I was sitting before he pulled the chair and sat himself there.

But from then on I bowed my gaze so as not to meet him. But I turned out to be the theft. He looked indifferent, yet aware.

This is what I hate when I cry for too long. My eyes turned swollen like they were stung by a bee. And it lasted all day. Or it could even be days if the cry is longer. Especially with the screams being held.

Last night, I managed to trick Mas Gibran by pretending to sleep first. But at this dinner table, Mas Gibran's words suddenly made Mamer and Rara look at me. Then what should I give you a reason?

"Son Nada must have been impatient to see his parents."

Exactly right! Rara.

"Ah yes, that's right," I replied a little nervously with the corner of the lip I forced curved upwards.

Mas Gibran looked at me full of probes. He seems suspicious. Am I not good at lying? Bodo is very. Whatever makes me cry, it doesn't matter to them.

I started to feed the rice with vegetable pakcoy as well as slices of crispy shrimp meat, into the mouth. One time, two times, still okay. But at the time of the third feed. My stomach suddenly got nauseous.

I ran to the kitchen bathroom with my right hand holding my stomach and my left hand smothering my mouth. Until there, all the food I just entered was directly out without being held back again.

In the bathroom I squatted while continuing to vomit stomach contents. Then, I felt someone's hand massage on my neck, making my suddenly dizzy head feel a little light. That must be Mas Gibran.

Is correct. He swiftly approached me and did what I needed right now.

Hoek!

This time only a clear liquid came out with a little color that made my tongue taste bitter. There may be no more waste in my stomach.

After feeling better and the stomach was not feeling nauseous, Mas Gibran led me up to rest after he cleaned my vomit earlier. A little salute, when a Gibran takes care of all that without any disgust on his face.

I leaned against the dashboard of the bed, feeling the recently weakened body. While Mas Gibran, the man was back down, probably about to resume the delayed breakfast, or maybe even going straight to work. But if he leaves, he must be happy first.

"Still nauseous?" mas Gibran asked as he walked in with a glass of warm tea in his hand.

I shook my head before I questioned.

"It's a little bit dull."

Mas Gibran then held out a glass of warm tea to drink immediately. He helped hold the glass, then placed it on the nightstand after I took a small sip of its contents.

"Bag,"

"Hm."

"I want to eat the ijo bean porridge."

The man frowned and looked like he was staring at something I didn't know.

"I'll buy it after I get home from work. Or will it be now?"

"Just go to work."

He was bearded, then his hand pulled the nightstand drawer that was on his right side sitting down, to pick something up there.

"It." Mas Gibran held out a small object inscribed with one of the brands of aromatherapy wind oil, to me.

"I have to get to work soon. If there's anything, just call" he continued after I received the wind oil.

Mas Gibran glanced at the circular object on his wrist, then he reached into the mobile phone that rang in his pocket in his suit.

"Just wait. I'll be right down."

Click! The connection he broke after saying so.

"Who?" I asked.

"Vano," he said, re-inserting the phone into the pocket of the suit.

"Oh."

"I'm leaving." Mas Gibran kissed my forehead before actually going to work. One of the mandatory routines after my relationship with him has improved.

***

After locking the door of this room tightly, I immediately searched the entire closet to find any information about my husband's family.

I really want to know the story of Mas Gibran's life in the past. Also find out the origin of how the man was born from the second woman.

When scraping the past, there must be something that will make this heart hurt. But it's fine. I'm ready for all the risks.

Niente. All the drawers are nothing more than handkerchiefs with various dark colors that Mas Gibran always carries when he wants to go to the office.

Then, I went back to rummaging through a closet that was also large. All I researched by returning to tidy the clothes that had shifted.

Blank. In this big black cupboard, I didn't find any paper there.

Then with a quick and hasty motion, I moved from one corner to the other.

"Hah ..." I let out a long sigh after getting tired of looking for something but never getting it.

"Actually where did Mas Gibran keep those important files?" I muttered to myself.

I thought hard, where would Mas Gibran hide his private access.

Geck! Geck!

I turned my head when I heard a knock on the door that was more similar called a buzz. Followed by a screaming voice calling my name.

"Tone!"

"Tone!"

I turned the puffed-up eyeballs. Just a few seconds did not get a response, already screaming again. Ck, this is what I don't like about Mama-in-law. Noisy and too involved.

Chequek!

"What's up, Ma?"

"Mama wants to go for a walk with Rara. You're here, dad. Don't go anywhere. Two ART that returned home had also returned, his name was Mba Fitri with Mba Iyah. If you need to, just ask them for help. Don't come out on your own."

My forehead is cringing, I don't like.

"Where does my mom want to go. Why wasn't Nada allowed to come?"

It's nice, they'll both go for a walk, while I from yesterday hung out at home. Glowing no, stress yes.

"If Mama asks you, Mama will get Gibran's nag. You've gone mad."

"Hhh, yes I have. Careful. Don't forget to bring a lot."

"Kalo inget."

Dihs.

"Eh, wait!" With her hand, Mama held down the door I was about to close.

"What else, Ma?" manya irritated.

"You're used to being given rations how much is my son?"

"What to? What's the kitchen mattress?"

Plaque!

Aw!

"I'm the same Mas Gibran, you know, Ma." Threaten me while stroking the arm that feels a little pain. It's also pretty cool.

"Your part. Seriously asked, he replied jokingly."

"Lho, who's kidding. I'm serious, really. Indeed in that household there are two types of living, right? Lent is born equal to inner living. Which of the two did Mama ask?"

"Money. How much money have you always received from Gibran?"

Haha, finally to the point as well. I also knew where Mama was talking. It must be about money.

"Why do you want to know, or do you want to know?" manyu tease. Traffic silly idea to little prank this socialite woman.

"old. Say it!"

"here." I gestured for Mama to come closer for me to whisper.

"OMJ! Really?!" Shocked after I told the nominal one day that Mas Gibran gave me.

I nodded with a laugh.

After Mama passed away, I immediately closed the door, then laughed satisfied to imagine the funny expression on Mama's face that looked very shocked when I found out how many digits I said. You duitan eyes!