Forgive Me My Wife
Occupy Space Dwellers

“Viona?”

The beautiful woman turned her head as soon as she heard the voice of the baritone who was always faithful buzzing in her worn-out kalbunya room. The man's face looked deathly pale with a single smile adorning there.

“I came here because Adrian came to the boutique and reported that his stubborn boss was sick,” his great-grandson without a smile who then returned to focus on stirring the soup in the pot.

“I miss you,” lirih Bima raucous and weak.

Bima wanted to go there, clutching the tiny body into his arms, close to each other as close as possible to feel the pounding of their hearts was too simple. However, whatever the power, even though the physical distance is only one meter each, but their bond has been severed hundreds of miles away.

Viona did not answer, only the sound of cooking utensils clashing filled the silence that stretched in the middle of the two. After his cooking was cooked he turned off the stove, bringing the soup as well as the rice team to the dining table located near where Bima was standing now. Viona put the bowl of soup and the rice the team cooked, pulled up the chair and sat there.

“Eat, when sick it is better to consume home-made foods even though the taste may not be according to taste. I see Mas only eats food that the restaurant sends.” Point Viona on a dark green paper bag at the end of the dining table with the name of Bima's favorite restaurant long ago.

Bima also pulled the chair facing Viona. He looked extremely happy even though his body felt weak. “Still Vi,” she replied gratefully.

“I hope I don't misunderstand. I came here because after all I cannot ignore someone who is very important to my daughter. As soon as she recovered, Nara kept asking and whining igin met you,” explained Viona.

“Whatever the reason I am glad you came,” reply with a smiley look also happy. “I promise I'll get well soon and see Nara soon. I also really want to meet our daughter.”

Our daughter? Those words are ironic. Viona stared into Bima's eyeball.

“Can I not make people worry? Why torture yourself and stay here alone in pain? I thought Mas was staying at Mama Annisa's house,” Viona's lick. Tucked in an annoyed tone mixed with real anxiety in his tone of voice.

“I choose to stay here and not tell about my condition so as not to cause people's worries. Besides the doctor comes regularly, there is also Adrian who visits me every day. It's enough that I make people around me feel endless anxiety due to my actions.”

Viona bit her trembling lips, turned her face and changed her sitting position to the sideways. His breathing was irregular, his beautiful eyeballs began to glaze over, trying to hold back the swarming stuffing in his throat. I don't know why he was so angry knowing Bima did not pay attention to health well. He should be happy and cursing, right? because the one who had hurt his heart was now in a weakened state.

Bima got down from her chair, placed both her knees on the floor and rested in front of Viona.

“I'm sorry..I'm sorry that always makes you sad and suffering, forgive me,” said Bima in a hoarse voice full of regret.

Viona clenched her hands and beat Bima's chest. “Mas always makes me suffer, always makes me cry! You're evil, Mas! I hate you! Goddamn bum! Bastard!"

Her hands continued beating, then Viona's cries broke apart, spilling, heart-wrenching shrill, painfully slashed, caught in the throes of two different feelings on the same person, namely hatred and love.

Bima also cried in the thickets of regret as deep as the ocean, tortured to long as high as clouds, wracked with a sense of torture that was urgent to be revealed but reluctant to women who had been wasted.

Bima lowered her forehead touching Viona's two intertwined hands in her lap, her back shaking spilling a million regrets chained to her chest.

"I'm sorry baby.I'm sorry...."

The two wept profusely like rainwater that flooded the earth, letting millions of tears wash over hoping that all the burdens of pain and wounds would flow away.

*****

Don't forget thumbs up and comments yes 😳. One like from your thumb may mean nothing to you, but for the author can make the spirit of writing 😳💜.