Crazy Love of the Actor
Section 90: The Trap

Perhaps Shila's days were still gray because her hands were never healed, but Izraa always made sure that the girl would never drop her grades in her eyes, because she wanted to try her hardest to find another love, his soul was already grasped by Syila without him noticing.

Izraa doesn't know that wanting someone is so exciting, sometimes there is a sense of tiredness because chasing isn't always fun, but as a hunter who just woke up from a long sleep, of course, as a hunter, it's a hunt he's made sure won't go to waste.

Shila did not understand, the wolf had been scouted and made sure the red-hooded girl in the end he would get, not to be eaten by his flesh, but to be crushed in his soul, so as not to go anywhere.

“Should we meet at the office only, why should it be here?” Syila was upset that Izraa asked Syila to come to their subscription cafe, the cafe half of which is owned by Izraa, because she joined the business with her friend and apparently already has several branches in each area.

“You don't miss the coffee in this cafe?”

“No, I can order online if I want to, so I never miss.”

“Oh so, but I miss, because since there was no you in this cafe, the coffee taste becomes more bitter.”

“You are exploring the role of being a reliable seducer? The feeling of the serial project is no scene of the dreadlocks.” Syila was disgusted by Izraa who seduced her like a dime.

“Not serial, but ad, I'm trying to feel like a guy with a dime, does it work?”

“Your face is not supportive, because you are notoriously cold and very picky, if suddenly you seduce with a forced smile so, I'm sure, the person who saw your ad will feel pity.”

“Kok can pity?” Izraa did not understand where Syila was going to bring her ridicule.

“Because you will be considered less money, so you take this ad and change the image, just so you can get the ad.”

“You!” Izraa was annoyed and his eyes slurred, because Syila managed to make him angry, apparently Syila's words immediately hit the heart.

“I only give advice, you make me the object of your training, then I can't, but if you become a mentor, you can.”

“Alright mentor, then, try to tell me, how to seduce coolly, get into my character, until I am no longer pitied.”

“Easy, first, don't blatantly say love, even if it must be said, say at the right time.”

“For example? Try example.” Izraa really wanted to know.

Their coffee has come to the table, even the waiter there had hugged Syila because of longing and sad, Syila actually did not like this moment, but the waiter at this cafe is indeed quite good and close to Syila and Andi.

“This coffee is bitter when you are not there .. is that what you said?”

“Ya,” Izraa says yes.

“Do not go straight to the point, you do not make someone get the sensation of going up the mountain and then falling into the abyss.”

“Hah? What kind of sensation is there?”

“Who did you forget to talk to? I am a writer, I used to be a poet, but it turns out that my novel is more in demand, so I rarely write poetry again.”

“Try mentioning one of your poems, I wonder, how great are you, if it's good I will use that poem for advertising, how?”

“Pay yes.”

“Of course, I'll name you in the ad as the Author of his poem.”

“Ah, it's called barter, anyways, popularity is no longer my era. I've gotten before.”

“You may not need it, but our new company, he needs to be introduced, who is interested in being a writer in that company if only no one knows, consider this our step to introduce the company, and, so, just mention one of your beautiful poems, I want to hear.” Izraa forced, it made Syila challenged, he then took out his mobile phone, of course by hand, he searched for some of his poetry notes, then after that he chose the one he liked the most.

Syila started to read her poetry casually.

Your morning may be missed, but day, afternoon and night are still yours.

Like me, it's still yours.

Let's not talk about time, because it's just a number.

Even if it goes forward, it still leaves memories.

Happy morning may be late, may not always be spoken.

But believe me, my greeting to the heavens remains the same, Lord, take care.

They say a funeral is a final resting place.

But why looking at someone's face feels like time stops, numbers don't come up anymore.

Even when you're sad and grouchy for someone else, but it still looks beautiful on my net.

I'm delaying my stop, just a minute, just a minute. I-i promise.

Just so you know, if in the end you have your new love story blossoming and not blooming in my heart. Then I will lead to you.

When you ask, don't I want to get away from this story?

I told him, this story is my home, if I leave, then I'll be homeless.

This story is where I hide my heart, if I leave, I will never have a heart for anyone again.

You can go, but I won't.

It feels too slow to say good morning again, for you who are inhaling the fragrance of tirta amarta and hit by a basin at Port jenggala, I taped your face which still looks beautiful even though the basin has hit it.

You know, seeing your face is like thirst on a directionless desert run, and then the mirage arrives with a distinct, tangible and palpable nature.

The longest journey of love is, unable to grasp, but never breaking up prayers.

Because the fact of loving is, allowing happiness.

The one who pretended to be fine, was actually the one who was the most injured. He didn't let anyone touch his heart. As if nothing, but he took care of it.

One thing he didn't realize, letting his wounds continue to exist made him slowly numb.

The point is, not able to feel in another, because it runs out in one soul.

When cupid was still trying to throw his arrows.

I said, there is a child in the high meadow. I told him to stop, but neither did he end.

I ran after him desperately, still avoiding my finger trying to catch him.

That child is my heart and I am the logic of it while the prairie is your face.

They chase, one survives the other holds back

The little boy managed to escape, again and again. Free running in the vast grasslands.

He said, "I always win."

I thought Cupid understood when asked to stop. But it turns out that he just nodded, put down his archery and remained standing straight on target, I mean.

I asked him, "You still want to aim at him?" Cupid nodded, stubborn bottom.

That Cupid is me, the target is you. The arrow is, the monologue story I created for us.

Where is that love? In the air that the arrow passes when it is thrown.

Then there is no room for another love, only a vacuum on the other side of the universe, so in this universe you are the only one I can love.

So let us be a little lost in the forest of love where the tree is so dense, we fear not the darkness, for this straying hypnotizes us with intoxicating admiration.

I love you, yesterday, now and then.

Until this coffee tastes bitter when you're not around.

Syila added the sentence that Izraa blurted out as a closing, she gave him an example, Izraa sentence if plus Syila poem will be very suitable for him, able to maintain self-esteem, even though the love sentence remains thrown.

Izraa fell silent, looking at Syila with a strange face.