Companion To Paris
An answer

After putting the dishes in the sink, Paris stood up while looking left and right in confusion. Looks like something's looking for.

"What diary?" ask Asha.

"I want to drink cold water" Paris said, turning his head.

"Tuh, to your right," Asha pointed to the refrigerator in the corner. Not far from Paris. Strangely, the girl did not see.

"Ah, yes. I forgot." Paris scratched his temple slowly. Raise your feet towards there. Open the refrigerator and bend the body to take the bottle. But just a few seconds, Paris straightened her back again. "His glass?" ask Paris with a plain face. No longer harassing Asha, the girl was indeed in a mess.

Asha soon got up from her seat and approached Paris in need of help. Asha's hand picked up the glass on the kitchen table. Close to the refrigerator.

"It."

"Thank you." Paris grunting. He was denouncing himself. Asha did not sit back. He accompanied Paris who was still standing over a drink. Asha saw this girl was extremely unfocused. His body is here, his mind is everywhere.

"We should sit down soon. Just take that bottle there." Asha encouraged Paris' body to immediately return to its seat. Without a Paris match according to. "Now tell me what happened," Asha said without pause as they just sat down.

"I had a fight with Biema" Paris said. Asha already thought there was something more important than just the shuttle thing.

"If you don't care about the reason Biema married you, then what else?"

"Lei's. Biema's upset about him."

"Oh, he ... Wait for. The lei? Your ex? Chelsea's nephew?" ask Asha streak. He was a little surprised to appear this name in their conversation. Because now their discussion is Biema. Lei and Biema really have nothing to do. That's what Asha knew all along.

"Yes. He," answered Paris grimacing.

"Why does Biema know Lei?" ask Asha still does not believe. Paris also told about Lei who was an intern at Biema's office. Also about the company party and finally about Biema who pulled him out of the room. Then told Biema who felt she was not open about who Lei was. The highlight is Biema's question about the truth of her heart.

"She asked me if I loved her." The Paris story that shows him himself has no answer.

"What's your answer?" ask Asha curiously. He was pounding hearing that question. Like the girl who awaits the idol expresses love.

"Of course I don't know." A split second Asha's face was immediately shocked. Paris's answer was not in the dues.

"Don't know? You don't know?" Asha does not believe. His forehead shriveled. "After you fret, jealous because of the ... Mela, you said you didn't know?"

"Yes" answered Paris confidently. Asha widened her eyes feeling tired. Naturally Biema dizzy head made him.

"That's so ...." Asha changed her face as quickly as possible. He's trying to understand. "Then about you being sad ..."

"That's, Brother. I wonder why I am sad. It's not that I really want Biema to not care about me that much." Paris lowered her body to put her chin on the table. Then tap your fingertips on the table slowly and repeatedly.

She's tired. Tired of his feelings that do not understand the same how he feels now.

Paris doesn't understand her feelings or she is .... Asha understood something.

"Sometimes people don't understand their own feelings. Like your sister and me. Arga," continued Asha. This time Paris not only glanced, but she fully looked towards Asha. Without lifting his body. Still lazing around putting his head on the table.

"Actually I might have been interested when she expressed love. It's just that I doubt it. Not afraid he doesn't love me, but rather the fear of leaving him. I'm afraid if I confess to loving her, reality forces us to part ways. You know me and Arga are different in many ways. I finally chose to stay cool no matter what. Even when Arga was betrothed, I tried to be ordinary. It was just my attempt not to get hurt. I stressed to myself that I would be ordinary even if I was to be left behind by Arga." Asha's eyes glared.

"That's long. Sa-ngat long." Paris mocked Asha's story with a flat face. Asha smiled. Doesn't feel like he's getting carried away. His eyeballs were bristling because something was stirring in there. Asha blinked her eyeballs to make the puddle dry.

He was not offended by Paris's ridicule. The girl even listened well. So he said, "Am I like that?"

"Possibly yes. I think you act like you don't love her for fear of something" Asha said. Looks like Asha is on target.

"Looks ... Yeah." yeah." Saying this feels very hard for Paris. Because he also has a reason. "I'm afraid he doesn't have the same feelings as me. Afraid he's just playing around." Paris moved from his lazy pose.

"You admit it." Asha smiles triumphantly knowing her sister-in-law confesses her feelings. It is not in vain that he narrates the old story. To the extent that his eyes got a little wet from thinking about that moment again.

"Wrong?" Paris nyoloth.

"Gagmk ... Not wrong." Asha stroked the head of Paris.

"Why did I become like this? God fucking. The old man set me up" Paris said, hitting the table.

"He's not an old man. Biema is a handsome man" Asha said. Paris throbs. But in his heart, Paris recognized that good looks. Many from all sides, Biema looks charming. " ... but Arga is still the best. He's the most handsome of the others." Asha's eyebrows go up and down stating the man is the number one.

"Sad." Paris screeches. This time it was serious. And Asha seriously did not care. Arga is everything to him.

"So miss Arga, here."

Since Fikar did not immediately answer the phone from her, Paris tried a video call. But failed too. Paris was already about to press the red button to end the call due to an upset waiting, but it turned out that Fikar received his video call.

"Yes. Hello," replied Fikar.

"Hey, why are you such a celebrity you can't call?" spray Paris. Fikar was slightly flabbergasted by this overflowing energy. It's nothing, Fikar has seen this girl who was lethargic earlier.

"Sorry, sorry. What's up?"

"I want to go home. You said I'd call you if I wanted to go home? Now I want to go home. So get me."

"Oh, yeah. I'll pick you up, but for a second. I'm still busy" please Fikar.

"Busically busy?" ask Paris. Indeed Fikar appeared in a room with a stack of files. The room seemed familiar to him. Looks like Biema's room.

Not finished Paris thinking about the familiar room_ Fikar shifted his phone, until Paris could find a figure that was very much missed. Biema!