Two Love Belongs to Zahira (Part My Wife!)

04. Obviousness

"Then don't get close to any man before you find him." Radit replied casually.

"Or I'll come with you back to Malaysia" I said, because actually I also like living there.

"Didn't you want to go to Zahira's college?" Radit looked at me for a long time.

"For what college is, we are rich." I replied tired. Radit smiled and looked at me who was very uncomfortable living here, but in Malaysia I always wanted to go home.

My days are slow, the only thing that calms me down a little is Radit's presence this week. But today Radit will return to Malaysia because indeed he has not had a class exam.

"Radit, I'll come to Malaysia with you." I don't want to let go of Radit's hand with the bag ready to go.

Radit was still frozen, though his hands were sometimes pulled. He just looked at my face like he wanted to take me with him, a little bit of worry there.

"Darling you can't?" Papa approached me grabbing my shoulder slowly, I said, although my hand did not take off Radit's hand. I don't know why Mama was silent staring at me and Radit who seemed reluctant to separate.

"Darling Radit won't be long, after this he's off." Papa calms me down.

I looked at Papa then Radit, Radit smiled and nodded. "I won't be long, you don't have to be afraid." Radit convinced me.

I slowly loosened my hand and took off her hand. I really didn't want Radit to leave me.

"Go." Papa asks Radit to leave immediately. I saw my mom and dad staring at each other as if speaking their own language.

"Darling you don't have to go to the office today, take a break." Papa asked me to go upstairs because I did do everything there, all my needs were up there except for food.

"We need to talk." Papa took mom to the room after I climbed the stairs. I don't know what they're going to talk about, I hope Mama and Papa don't ask me to study at the office anymore.

It's been two weeks since I enrolled, today there is an interview test for prospective students to coincide with Radit's return.

Early in the morning I woke up because there was a file I had to carry, I searched in the drawer in my room but did not find my birth certificate file. indeed, all this time Papa and Mama took care of everything carefully and neatly, even my school will contact Umi Nurul if you need anything about me. Not this time, I've grown up is not the time my needs are taken care of Mama and Papa.

"Papa." Call me knock on his room. "Mama." Call me again because there's no answer. I grabbed the door handle and it wasn't in the lock.

"Papa, Mama, Zahira's coming in!" I stepped in and approached the table not far from the bed. Looks like the files aren't here.

I turned to the workspace, apparently there were no Papa and Mama. I started looking for where papa and mama would keep the family data. Long time looking but not also find it, until I open the bottom drawer. I didn't find it, but I saw two little books with Garuda's 'Marriage Book'. Because I was very curious about the photos of Papa and Mama when I was young, I casually opened it. It turns out that mama is very beautiful, similar to Radit today but Mama is more beautiful while Radit has a wide body and dashing inherited Papa's prowess. I smiled and looked at their photos, until I finally realized something. My mother's wedding year didn't match my age!!!

"Zahira." Papa called. I don't flinch at the numbers that have been milling around in my head. My heart is not calm, my heart is beating irregularly.

"Dear." Mama came into Papa's study. Slowly I lifted my head, bracing myself to look at Papa and Mama.

"Who's Mama's son?" I asked slowly. As if no one could answer him, the two of them were still fixated.

My tears fell uncontrollably, my legs were limp and my whole body was shaking. I forced myself to stand up to Mama and Papa, My chest was so crowded as if there was no oxygen filling my chest cavity.

Papa hugged me tightly as if he was also crying, that sturdy shoulder that always carried me was shaking violently. For the first time I saw Papa crying, his embrace getting tighter and warmer as if it was an outpouring of pain all along in his store or perhaps the end of his overwhelming affection.

"Mama." Call me when I see Mama sitting limp saying nothing, only a heartbreaking sobbing is heard growing.

Papa led me closer to Mama, sometimes Papa's hand looks still sweeping her tears. "Mama." Call me again to sit down in bed in front of Mama.

Mama hugged me with a roaring cry. I've never heard Mama cry like that, but really the one that hurt the most here is me. Who me? the question I still crave because I have not been able to say it. But of all that I have seen between me, Papa and Mama, it is true that I am not the son of Papa and Mama.

For almost an hour I listened silently to Mama's tears, and Mama finally opened her voice.

"Zahira." Call slowly. I looked into Mama's puffy eyes and got smaller.

"You're still my son, even if I'm not the one with you." Mama took a breath preparing better words and also more mental of course. I've resigned, only tears answer Mama's words.

"It's a darling." Papa gave me some files he kept in the safe neatly. I deserve nothing, because Papa kept it in a safe place and no one knew.

My hand shook holding the papers Papa gave me. The first thing I saw was my birth certificate. "Zahira Daughter of my father Aldo Bramastya, and my mother, Revalia Az-Zahra the hijab woman I saw in the director's room.

*

"Dear wake up." I moved slowly to hear Mama's voice wake me up, it felt lazy to wake up in the morning and have to go to school.

"Mama's soon." Reply spoiled.

"Darling you're sober, drink some water." Mama rocked my cheek.

I opened my eyes slowly, I saw Mama's beautiful face with narrow eyes seemed to have almost disappeared. It turns out that this is reality.

I really cried, I don't feel like I want to be aware of my fainting, I want to live in a dreamland where I was a child and always pampered by Papa and Mama. But this is what I have to face. I'm just a child who has no father and mother, hitching a ride on Papa and Mama.

...After I know all this reality. The story of my love begins....

...***...