HEART
Irzan Nugraha

Unilateral love is always painful.

The reality is like that.

At the sight of Leon, Psyche always thought that this might be karma for her for rejecting the man a few years ago.

His feelings for Leon were never more than caring as a friend. But he understood now, although Leon often said that the man was happy when he saw him happy, it was his way of hiding the wound.

No one is truly happy but to receive love in return from the one we love.

Why can't the kind-hearted Leon make her turn away any longer, while the hated Adam can even make Psyche feel this much?

“I saw it,” Leon downed a can of lemon-flavored soda while looking up at the sky. The shadow of Psyche with the Louvander imprinted in his memory. “Not just with you. Previously, with different women.”

Silence enveloped them both. Pscyhe hugged both knees and sighed.

“Why..” Leon held back his words and glanced at the woman before Psyche could reply. “...must he?”

Why should he?

Psyche also questioned the same thing.

His first love.why to Adam...

“Psyche?”

This time Psyche looked up. Replying to Leon's gaze and finding the pain behind the two beads.

Not for his unrequited feelings, but for Psyche.

“Entahlah..” Psyche laughed bitterly. Although there were many words he wanted to say, it felt like they were all swallowed in the chest.

His feelings for Adam made him a psychopath. In that pain he persisted and was as dumb as a classic reason called love.

But all of that is not true. His love is more sincere than anything else.

Not yet exhausted all his frustration, Psyche must be faced with the scene where Adam chatted with a woman to an elevator.

He remembered the pink hair.

Miranda—a beautiful slim secretary who is said to be a widow.

Psyche attempted to distract him as they laughed at each other upon entering the elevator. Their bodies were close together without awkwardness.

But his eyes seemed to be uncompromising.

Before the elevator door closed, he saw how Miranda hit Adam's stomach with her fist.

The woman's face meets.

Psyche looks in a good mood when they get home from the office.

The man even whistled as red lights intercepted them in the middle of the crowded streets of London.

Psyche glanced at the man a few times. He was actually curious about the man's closeness to Miranda. As far as they know, so Adam can be that familiar with a woman who is not who he is.

“What do you eat?”

Adam asked without distracting himself from the streets. The question is quite surprising because the man rarely discusses this kind of thing on the way home.

“Termu's up.”

Adam clucking. “That's not the answer.”

Psyche rolled her eyes bored. “Pizza,” reply origin.

“If eat pizza we have to rotate directions, others only.”

Psyche. He held back his curse until his jaw hardened. A second later, he turned his eyes out of the window.

“Termu up, lah,” he said indifferently.

Adam caught that tone of annoyance. “Good. No need to eat,” sahutnya provoked emotions.

Psyche did not answer. He leaned his body against the chair and watched the drizzle begin to wet the car glass. He was tired of arguing with that man. So, he chose to carry his memories of his childhood. Imagine the things that make him happy.

Dissolved into his thoughts, Psyche could only hear the voices of Adam talking to someone over the phone.

Then as Adam's car drove down the road to his apartment, Psyche straightened her up quickly.

“Why we—“

The protest he was about to stage disappeared just like that as he caught the unusual expression of the man.

Something must have happened, he made sure it wasn't a good thing.

Asam increased the speed of his car and said without turning his head, his tone was flat but tucked in trembling. “My father died.”

Psyche.

For the first time he felt sympathy for the man.

“I finally understand why you never involve feelings in anything—that's just because you can't bear the pain.”