Companion To Paris
Forced

"Are you sure you won't make a fuss when you're outside?"

"Ruckus?" Paris's forehead shriveled. Apparently he was patiently waiting for Biema to continue her sentence.

"You who are active must have a lot of things to do. Don't make any noise out there" Biema said, which immediately inflamed Paris.

"Ughhhh! Am I a ruffian, so I always have to make a fuss everywhere? That's right," grumbled Paris while looking at Biema disagreeing. His hands were scooping the rice firmly. And then eat it very well. Evidence of his protest that he disagreed Biema said that. "Make it, don't come near me or marry me!" Angrily Paris kicked the leg of the table until it made a loud noise. Biema glanced down.

This girl's bar-bar. Very different from him. Evidently. That's so obvious. No need to read in detail, the inside is very different.

The phone next to Biema shook. Mela. That's the name on the screen. Paris saw it. Because the distance of the phone with him is not far, Paris had a glance for a moment. Especially when Biema immediately took the phone and moved away from the dining table.

"I'm having breakfast. Yeah, I'm going to the office." Although not loud, but Paris could hear the voice of Biema. "I'm sorry, I can't. I have a need elsewhere," Biema said, glancing over. Seeing that Paris pretended not to see.

When he finished, Biema returned to the dining table. Finished his unfinished breakfast.

"I was curious" said Paris, which made Biema look up.

Swallowed his rice and said, "What?"

"You ...," point to Paris with her spoon. "You're not a fool and an ugly person. I'm sure you have a lot of friends and relationships, but why don't you get married to the people you meet?"

"I'm married. I'm marrying you. You're the guy I met and I got married to" Biema said she could always answer Paris's questions.

"Realat. You didn't ask me to marry, but you forced me to marry. Not even with your own mouth. You use an intermediary, that's your mama and my mother." A straightforward sentence laden with ridicule.

"Yes, like that." As usual ... Biema answered or responded to the sentence Paris casually and sometimes sound like it. Like whatever Paris says.

"You're like a desperate man. Don't you marry me because you have to. Because of parental coercion, so you also let them make decisions that are not to your liking," guess Paris who somehow became excited. Biema looked at this girl. His eyeballs were twinkling. This girl seems happy.

"Early finish your food. Don't you want to go to school? I'll drive you." Biema diverted the chat.

"I can go alone."

"It has. Don't argue. I have to drive you."

"Allah ...," said Paris resigned. In her heart she smiled finding the reason Biema married him was the same. Forced.

"Nih ..," said Sandra during the day at rest while offering a container of provisions. The girl deliberately invited Paris not to the cafeteria because she said she brought something.

"What?" tanya Paris stretched out her hand slowly, receiving the toska-colored cube object in confusion.

"Mama make provisions for you." They did not eat lunch in the cafeteria as usual, because Sandra got an order from her mother to bring provisions for her sister-in-law. Mama Biema deliberately made a dish for her daughter-in-law.

"Employed? How odd?" Even though Paris received the provision, his uncluttered forehead made a faint frown.

"What weird? You are my mother's daughter-in-law. So my mama also loves you who is considered her son."

"Oh, that." Sandra pulled out another bag from inside the bag.

"You were also made by your mother?"

"Yes dong." Apparently Sandra also brought the same provisions. "Look eat. I'm hungry." Yeah."

Paris nodded. He was also hungry this afternoon.

"Dra, your sister married me because she had to, too, huh?" ask Paris.

"Eh? I don't understand that." Sandra gnashing. He did not understand at all the thoughts of his brother.

"Then I know dong better" said Paris satisfied and won.

"So you've been investigating why Biema's sister suddenly married you?" ask Sandra carefully. Even though Paris said that with a face of sumringah, Sandra had to be careful.

"Did Biema say yes?"

"Hmmm .. is less convincing, but I'm sure it is." Sandra just nodded. If nodding gets her friend excited again, Sandra needs to do it.

By compulsion? If forced, should not react like Paris who always seemed reluctant to discuss about husband and wife?

"Think what?" reprimand Paris. Sandra smile.

"No. There's no." Paris put food in her mouth. "You must hate Biema for agreeing to this marriage."

"I didn't hate him at first. There was shame because of that incident. I'm not happy to meet either. However, after being married to him .. I turned angry and .. might hate it." Paris said it by raising both eyebrows. "You know for yourself, San. The two of us have never talked much. Never communicate outside other than just meeting a few times when he picks you up at school. That'sallthatis. Then, how come we can suddenly get married?" Paris said that again dramatically.

"Most moron maybe?" guess the unconscious Sandra made Paris stare intently. Well, Sandra lamented inwardly.

"Don't make me emotional well ... A soul mate? Choose a good word in that dread." Paris started to grumble.

"Sorriy."

"Your brother too, I don't know what possession. Suddenly follow the silly idea of us both."

"Yes. I'm confused too."

"Nahh. You whose brother is confused, let alone me." I never thought Paris lunch was over. When his hands were busy scooping, apparently the container was clean.

**

Biema signed a new agreement that her company made. Now he is monitoring the development of the subsidiary on the computer screen in front of him.

Geck! Geck!

The sound of the door knocking someone. Biema. Fikar, his confidant appeared.

"Yes. What's up Fik?" ask Biema. After finding out it was Fikar, he resumed his work.

"Mela's downstairs."

"Mela?" tanya Biema immediately stopped her activities. Then looked up, looking towards Fikar.

"Yes. He wants to see you."

"Why didn't he just come into my room?"

"Mela doesn't want to. He wants you to pick him up downstairs." Biema. "If you're not in the mood to see him, I can send him home."

"No. Let me see him." Biema did her job.

"alright. However, remember ... you are no longer the Biema that you used to be," advises Fikar.

"About what?" asked Biema who tidied up her suit.

"Statusmu now. Are you not married now."

"I know that."

"I'll accompany you to meet him."

"You want to know what I'm talking to her about?" biema asked while looking at her friends and co-workers. Now he stands. Still trying to get her clothes and hair done.

"Sure," replied Fikar very confidently.

"You wanna be a spy between me and him, huh?" Biema glanced at the man who was still standing by the door.