Wounds From you

51. Gibran

It is only natural to discuss heritage, but for Arshal things that do not need to be discussed again because it is no longer important.

Geck.

Geck.

Those in the living room stared at each other in the same sense, who?

The fear comes in the end.

When the door was opened, they widened their eyes because everything that had been said was heard in the ears of people who were not fit to come.

The look on their faces was already frightened, clearly scattered from the circle of their eyes that shifted their gaze.

“Loh Gibran,” said Arshal who developed his smile, greeting his son who had not met for long.

A blessing maybe this time, his son can come and pick himself up.

Gibran welcomed her back, smiling awkwardly at his father. It's not unusual in this kind of environment, which makes him have to pretend to be a happy person while this family never whose name is far from the sea of problems that have been sunk was still used as a hot topic to be peeled.

Kan sometimes the man who wants to grow up to nineteen years old had time to ask, but Gibran was not completely finished with everything that included the family of his father.

The person was a genius but not with his treatment that seemed to be stupid.

Astagfirulagalazi.

“Dad can be here?” ask his pleasant-nonsense son, though Gibran is not good at discussing chatter at least he can start a conversation.

“Oh, you guys stopped by,” he answered with lips shaking while looking behind Gibran and when Gibran wanted to sit on a chair while greeting his grandmother and grandfather, the two quickly left before leaving interrogated by his own grandson who has already tried out his parents who are none other than Gibran's own father.

“Loh?” a question mark for Gibran who was shocked by their change while Arshal just thinned his smile, patting his son's shoulder.

“They are both again no business possible,” replied his father and Gibran raised his head, with a straight look colliding with Arshal's bead of eyes.

Inadvertently Arshal blinked his eyes so as not to focus with the beautiful eyeballs that God created for Gibran, really want to say Subhanallah is indeed a perfect creation.

But as perfect as it is, a living being if subject to his Lord will pay for that perfection.

Unwittingly behind the wall, the two middle-aged men were lamenting fate and the rice was already porridge, the, because the two of them seemed to be willing to dismantle the secrets of his family and never crossed if he wanted to continue on one condition his soul must be young again like before, but it can not because age and it feels not like the beginning, sane soul healthy and still young a lot of motion, delicious.

If gini, there is already a lot of motion that there is osteoporosis and it could be concussion or many more diseases that have eaten his age.

Gibran sighed furiously, “As Gibran felt if they had no business but to peek and not dare to appear before his own grandson,” his smile smirked and emphasized his every word so as to make those behind the wall just bite their lips.

It's a pity that Gibran's goal here only wants to insinuate because the person being insinuated does not want to face him.

"Hm, it's son. Mending we go to the restaurant first," timpal Arshal who suggested because it was from the beginning of Gibran his purpose came here only to pick up his father who he said was fed up with the inheritance and heirs who would receive all the property of his parents.

Evidently.

If he is entitled, it is certain that he must have full rights to the property owned by his parents, while still alive why not be outlined as such.

Yes, the rada is strange.

"Yes, yok!"

"OK, mah. pah, we go home first yes," said Arshal who took the rectangular object on the table and put it in his dark brown leather jacket.

**okay

okay bye wan bye...

be what?

motorcylee

what's seh❤☺

wkwk, amuse myself. support system by make you🙏❤

okay thanks for reading🙏**