Adult Zone
24. The End of a Wounded Honey

...END OF A WOUNDED HONEY...

...Author by: David Khanz...

Revan, that's my husband's name. He is a good and responsible man. Not so interesting, but charismatic. I, Devi, married her about four years ago. It was a marriage I didn't expect, at first. Because before Revan came into my life, there was another male figure who had long graced the days of my teenage history. Call it Bima. But I won't bring the figure of that one man, because ever since I decided to accept Revan's proposal, he just disappeared somewhere.

Why would I say I didn't expect Revan to marry you? In addition to having a special relationship with Bima, it turns out I have to resign to be my husband's second wife. Then, why also continue to accept Revan's proposal even though he knows he has a wife? The classic reason that often occurs to this day, is none other than at the insistence of my parents who want them to be made with their old friends. To weave and extend the strings of the cross, they say.

“Revan is a successful entrepreneur, you know, Dev. His father he, once a close friend Daddy when still in college. He is a good person and often help Dad pay the boarding money, give food, even up to your father's tuition fee,“ said the early father of my matchmaking plan with Revan.

“But I, right, already have my own choice, Dad. Time, anyway, should be betrothed to everything?” my heart feels sick when Dad starts calling that man's name.

“Who are your options? Bima?” ask Dad while smiling wryly.

“Dad and Mom, right, are familiar. Who else?” my race to talk to Dad seems to have started to melt. But I didn't want to offend him or suddenly run away, like an FTV scene.

To me, hurting a parent's feelings is tantamount to taking the road to a dream achievement. Because their happiness is like a bullet that can redeem the veil point of the prayers I often say.

“Dad knows, Dev. But .... “ Old men who often carried me as a child seemed to think.

“But what, Yah?”

After taking a deep breath, back old stories of debt and remuneration were spoken from the lips of Dad. So detailed and full of hope. As if I had rejected Revan's proposal, it would have resulted in a grave sin that was very difficult to treat.

“Moreover you are our only child, Dev,“ said Dad ended his past history review. 

“But Revan, right, married, Dad? Time, anyway, I—“

“Dad knows it, Devi. It's been tough. But this is also to help maintain their household.“ Dad's voice is getting louder.

“Means Dad?” I'm choked.

Back those old lips spoke of the household life of Revan, the child of his old friend.

So long married, Revan's wife has not visited two bodies. Both are healthy without any shortage. All ways have been taken to present the baby of the future successor to the family heritage. Reluctant to adopt, but wanting the original blood flow of his ancestors to keep flowing uninterruptedly by the flesh of an adopted child.

Revan's parents are getting older. Whether tomorrow, the day after tomorrow or at any time, the rest of their life contract will end. The urge to immediately fondle grandchildren is like a reminder in the face of an emergency situation. Revan has been unable to always refute for various reasons. The choice of remarriage is absolutely the only way that the voices of the two menantu no longer undermine the eardrum.

Heavy but still to be done. The pretext of lack of self becomes the basis for Risma, Revan's wife, to submit to accept the fate of life combined. To be honest, Revan himself objected because it would certainly hurt a woman he had loved so much. But the lifeline must still be traversed according to God's scenario.

Eventually the marriage happened. I could hurt Bima, kill all her beautiful hopes instantly. While Revan was forced to deny his vows first to not disappoint the loyalty of a Risma. Yes, both of us have set foot into a new life on the frothy ocean of nestapa.

Me and Risma live in different places. Not too far away but the smell of jealousy often billows from the hallway of our hearts, when the Arjuna shares love. Revan was as good to me as he made Risma. But this feeling says that Revan doesn't love me completely. There was another figure bias implied in the eyes, as his lips unraveled a withered hum. I enjoyed every beat of hunting the breath of intercourse of his body, but felt indecent to the presence of the spirit of the tribe. There is always him and him in every pore he thought, Risma.  

Not felt, two years have I gone through life as a benalu in the life of Revan and Risma. A small figure that is expected to be present in the family does not come. At first I felt the same fate as Risma. Neither can make Revan, the perfect man. But it was just a moment. My jealousy began to grow when I heard Risma was pregnant. 

Getting pregnant?

Yes, Risma my husband's first wife was able to hold the seeds of Revan's maleness love in her womb. While me? Yeah, God! It hurts so much this heart. Maybe, this is what Risma had felt when I first took over her side of peace during that time? Pain, disappointment, anger, disgust and a myriad of other words that always mean siamese. Moreover, coupled with a change in attitude Revan who began to rarely prop me up as usual.

“Poor brother, Risma. She was, right, pregnant with my son. It's only natural that he needs special attention and more than me,” that reason that is often said from Revan's mouth when I started sulking and asking for my rights.

“But I am also your wife, Mas! I also have the same rights as Risma.” 

“Ya, already. You just stay with Risma so we can all meet every time. So please help take care of your brother, you know, Dev,” it's easy Revan said without thinking about my true feelings.

I admit, I did indeed snatch Revan from Risma's arms. But to live together under one roof? The hearts of women everywhere will not be much different. Even if it's clever, it's just camouflage. Remain silent in pretense.

“There's Mas Revan no, Mbok?” I asked one time to Risma's housemaid, a few weeks after Revan long time did not come to share time for me.

“Nothing, Ma'am,” replied the maid while bowing her gaze, afraid.

“If Mbak Rismanya, there?”

“Nothing either, Bu.”

“Where are the two of them?” I'm curious and pounding full of prejudices.

“Outside home or—"

“Australia, Bu.”

Right also my estimate. After a big fight a few weeks ago, Revan just left home. No farewells or news. Now, it is busy with the old wife who should have been rations for me. Phone call not picked up. The marching message is simply read without reply. What kind of marriage is I having right now?

“You defy me every time I talk! Can't you act like a gentle Risma to me, your husband, Devi?” exclaiming Revan after returning from abroad with Risma and I welcome directly in front of their house.

“I am not Risma and she is different from me, Mas!” my reply was no longer able to stem the rumble of emotions that had been held back.

“That's why I don't like to linger with you!” bentak Revan no less fierce.

Risma looked terrified as she rubbed her young pregnant belly, “Mas, never mind. Stopit! Shame to hear neighbor!”

“Be quiet, Risma! This is my business with him!” my trembling tent held in anger with the forefinger pointing at Revan's face, “you should remind him of his obligations towards me, his young wife, Risma!”

“I've repeatedly reminded Mas Revan, Dik Devi,” said Risma frightened to see my eyes reddened.

“Lying! The proof is that you went abroad with him!” I am getting less and less able to control my anger.

“Don't you snap at my wife at will, Devi!” sergeant Revan defended Risma.

“I'm also your wife, Mas Revan!” my gaze turned to Revan accompanied by a hunting breath.

Revan asks Risma to enter the house immediately. Worried about something happening with his pregnant wife. Especially psychological.

“You don't go anywhere before this problem is finished, Risma!” I'm hunting Risma. Prevent him from getting into the house.

Whether the whisper of shatan from where, the intention of holding Risma, but what I did was push the body of my husband's old wife to fall into a slump.

“Risma .. !!!” Revan exclaimed in shock as he ran up to his first wife.

Risma grimaced while holding her stomach, “Sick ... Mas.”

There's blood coming out of Risma's legs. That must be ....

THE PLAQUE!

A hard slap landed on my cheek.

“See! What have you done to Risma!” snapped Revan while again swinging his palm to my face.

THE PLAQUE! 

Hard, loud and enough to make my eyes twitch for a moment. Twice the slap that left me speechless in shock. It was not the first and second slap. There were still many other slaps that I often received at the peak of wrath when we had a big fight. Sick? Don't ask. Even until it feels penetrated to the deepest part of the heart.

I fell silent while rubbing the sore cheeks. No matter when Revan howled in tears and shouted hysterically while carrying Risma's body into the house. Blood splattered all along the steps. It must be the blood of Revan and Risma's son-in-law. Again, I don't care.

A few days passed, everything turned empty. Emptiness often hits this heart passageway that used to always grimace. I don't want to say a word. Just want to be quiet and quiet. Alone in my own embrace while continuing to feel and rub my cheeks that feel increasingly sore. My vision is a little clouded due to the swelling around the eyelids. Even my saliva was also salted with blood mixed with melted nostrils.

I wanted to cry, but my tears refused to come out. Only a small grin was present unwittingly through these lips without me being able to prevent it.

“Risma had a miscarriage and you were the cause! I lost my son whom I had been expecting for so long, Devi!” that last voice that was still heard and stored in my mind. 

Furthermore, I could only feel a few slaps accompanied by voluminous blows struck this face and body. It hurts, but it's getting longer like it's just gone. Suddenly everything disappeared changed without success.

I don't know how long I've been sitting in freezing silence. Look at the ceiling of the house that is getting bigger. Until finally whispered heart asked me to immediately rise in pain, leading footsteps in a direction. I wanna go.

“Mas Revan, I'm leaving. Maybe I will never come back,“ I said softly leaving the figure of Revan who was still lying exhausted after torturing me.

He was silent not answering. Maybe they will never even answer. Along with starting to rot the body that was stretched stiff with a kitchen knife stuck in his chest. 

...T A M A T'S...