Cherophophobic
Annotated

After a long wait, exactly fifteen minutes before eight o'clock in the evening Anya had returned home. The woman approached Kafka and greeted him with a very sweet smile. He had promised himself to love Kafka like his own son, because he felt it was him who made Kafka lose Anggi.

"Have you eaten?" ask Anya.

Kafka smiled and nodded. "Now what's the aunt going to do?" ask Kafka. He will let Anya do what she wants to do first, then ask about her late mother.

"No, why. Why Kaf?" ask Anya.

"Sit down, Aunt. Kafka wants to talk for a while if Auntie doesn't mind." said Kafka.

She sat down for a while and sat on one side of the sofa. Similarly to Kafka, the guy sat next to Yohan.

"Aunty knows a woman named Vadya?" ask Kafka directly.

Anya immediately frowned when she heard Kafka's question. "Where do you know that name?" ask Anya with a serious expression. And also. faces that hold hope.

"Vanya Kaveline, she's my mama. My biological mother." said Kafka, lowering his head.

Anya's body instantly froze hearing the sentence Kafka had just said. The face of Kafka solemnly. It was fitting that he felt that he recognized Kafka's face, apparently the boy in front of him was the son of his best friend.

"Don't mess around with Kafka." said Anya who still doesn't fully believe what Kafka said.

"I'm not kidding. I want to ask a lot of Auntie about my mom and dad. All I know now is Mama Vadya my biological mother who is dead. And El Hasan Anzalion who said he was my father." Kafka said trying to convince Anya.

Anya's tears were finally unstoppable again. After a long search for the whereabouts of his best friend's son he finally found it today. But as soon as she wiped her tears, she did not want to look crybaby in front of her son. After that he went to the kitchen, and came back to the front with a photo. The photo he put on the table so Kafka could see it.

"Vadya is Aunt's best friend. She's the most perfect woman I've ever met. This is Auntie Anya, this is your mama, and this is Auntie Fanya. Mama Yora." Anya said as she pointed at each woman in the photo.

"He already knew that, tell me something else" Yohan said.

Kafka immediately elbowed Yohan hinting that the guy was quiet, because he thought his cold tone accompanied by his flat face and the way Yohan spoke to his parents was very disrespectful.

"Where is my mother buried?" ask Kafka.

Anya lowered her head and shook her head. "Father you know where your mama's grave is. At that time Aunt and El found your mama simultaneously. Aunty's been trying to prevent your papa from taking your mama. But El's energy is much greater than Auntie's." Anya explained.

"His aunt didn't help my mom?" asked Yohan while frowning.

"At that time Aunt Fanya was in Japan because of her work. He doesn't know that Vadya is gone. Upon learning everything, Fanya immediately flew to this country leaving all her work behind. We tried to find where Vadya was buried, but until now we couldn't find him. If Aunt had found your mama earlier that day, maybe that son of a bitch wouldn't have managed to take her away!" Anya.

Kafka clenched his hands. He could imagine what a jerk his papa was by looking at the huge expression of hatred on Anya's face. But he can't show his anger here.

"Thank you for the explanation, Aunt. And sorry for interrupting Aunt's break" Kafka said with a smile and bowed. "Kafka said goodbye first." said Kafka.

---

Kafka didn't come home. The man drove his motorcycle quickly to the address said to be the security guard at his papa's office. Somehow he was able to find the address without asking anyone even though he was not too busy on the streets of the city.

"I will come and hold you accountable, for the suffering of my loved ones" Kafka said with glittering eyes staring intently at the magnificent house in front of him.

After saying that, Kafka returned to the bike very quickly. Since the road he passed was quite lonely, he did not need to care about the other riders. With the jockeying on the road, the emotions piled up on his chest could be slightly reduced.

On the other side. A person who lived in the mansion learned of Kafka's arrival because he was sitting on the balcony of his room.

"Who was that guy? Why is he staring at this house with such a look?" muttered.

Although he could not see Kafka's face clearly behind the helmet, he could still see the look of hatred in Kafka's eyes as Kafka raised the glass of his helmet.

...***...

...Seriate......