Not the Perfect Wife
280. S2 - Past box
It's true what his wife said. He had to prepare for whatever might come next. In the heart of the man was sure this must have something to do with his real mama.
Is it possible that the woman in the high school uniform is her papa lover? Because of that, it makes his mother hurt because Papa Hamdan is still thinking about the past? Everything is still a mystery. Let time answer it.
They didn't feel like they were home either. The couple immediately entered. Both will begin the search. Only tonight is the time they have. It will be difficult to make this house empty. Especially if you are home.
"Darling if you want to shower, take a shower first. I'd like to start looking in Papa's office. You will go there" Khairi told his wife. He knew that Afrin would be uncomfortable if he hadn't cleaned up.
"Yes, Mas. I'll be there" Afrin replied, then left the husband alone.
Khairi immediately went to his papa's office. He started looking all over the place. However, there was no clue at all. Twenty minutes later Afrin caught up with her husband and helped him find something to do with keys or photos.
"It looks like there's nothing here, honey. We'll look in papa's room" said Khairi.
Afrin nodded, though she was already sleepy. However, the woman could not possibly let her husband look for something on his own. They went to their parents' room. Hopefully there's a clue to both.
"Mas, be careful, lest we make papa and mama suspicious if we have our room searched" said Afrin as soon as they arrived at the room.
"Yes, dear," replied Khairi.
There were no clues in his room at all. Khairi was almost desperate, his mind was chaotic, his body was also tired. However, he could not just stop. The man had already gone so far, it was impossible to just give up.
"Mas, we'd better take a break. You also seem to be very tired."
"It's okay, honey. If you are tired, just rest. I can find it myself."
"It's not so, Mom. We have to think of something. You have been living with papa since childhood, you should think about where the place you think is safe for papa keeps his secrets. We must use the brain also not only energy because that's why we rest while thinking."
Khairi thought of his wife's words. It is true what Afrin said. Papa Hamdan is a good man to keep secrets. Surely he did not put something that he had kept all this time carelessly.
Suddenly the man remembered a place he had not been to for a very long time. Soon Khairi came to the place. The man's looking for all the keys to the house's backup.
"Come, come with me." Khairi pulls his wife's hand into the back shed.
"What room is this, Mom?" ask Afrin.
"Said the late Mr. Udin this used to be a playground when I was a child, but not used again after adulthood. To my surprise, why don't I remember playing in this room at all?" khairi said as she tried to open the door.
"Whose Pak Udin, Mas?"
"The gardener in this house used to be, his father Mr. Jono, but he died eight years ago" replied Khairi, who was taken by Afrin.
Long enough the man tried to open the door finally the door opened. The room was so dark that they could see nothing. Khairi tried to turn on the lights, but it didn't work. He picked up the phone in his pocket and illuminated the room.
Lots of dust and cobwebs everywhere. The room was really stuffy. Both of them have difficulty breathing. Several times Afrin had to shake her palm to reduce discomfort.
"Darling, you just wait outside. It's very stuffy here" Khairi said.
"We should open the door wide so that there is a wind coming in" said Afrin without heeding the husband's orders.
Afrin also turned on her phone. The woman continued to help her husband search, until he found a large box. It turns out that there is a family album inside. There was nothing he knew in the photo, only a young Papa Hamdan and a woman beside him.
Afrin looked at the woman's face and it was the same as the one in the photo Khairi had shown earlier. Is it true that it was Khairi's birth mother?
"Mas, look at this," call Afrin to make the man come closer. "Isn't this woman the same as the one in the photo you took?"
Khairi noticed what his wife had discovered. It is true that this woman is the same person.
"We'll just take it forward, honey. Let's be clearer."
"But it's still in the box and it's heavy" Afrin said, showing the box in front of him.
"Let me lift up. Hopefully we can"
"Just the same, Mom. It must be younger" said Afrin, who is a member of Khairi
Khairi and Afrin raised the box together. They took him to a brighter place. The man began to unpack the contents of the large box. There are some old photos of his father, there are also photos of him as a baby with the woman carrying.
He was sure that the woman was his mother. Why did her mother leave her alone? In the photo it is very visible if the woman is happy, as well as her father then, what is the cause of their separation? Thinking about it makes Khairi's brain performance weakens.
The man tried to find something else in the box to answer his question. A wedding dress with a suit and shirt. There was also a pair of jewelry rings inside the box. It looks like a wedding ring. He observed the ring, engraved the names Hamdan and Nur.
'Our? Is the woman in this picture named Nur? Is she also my real mother?' khairi
Afrin's call made Khairi aware of his daydream.
"Mas, look at this there's a locked box.it seems to match the key you're holding, it's a very small hole!" the exclamation of Afrin made Khairi turn his eyes.
"Look at it."
Afrin handed the box to her husband. Observing him carefully then Khairi tried to open it with the key he found, but it felt difficult when playing.
"Kok, can't you, huh, honey? Is this not the key?" ask Khairi who is still trying to turn the key.
"It looks like it's stuck, Mas. Probably because it has not been used for too long. Just a minute."
Afrin enters the house taking something. Not long after the woman returned while carrying cooking oil, making Khairi's forehead frown.
"Try a little oil on the key, Mas, so it's easier to open it" said Afrin, handing cooking oil to her husband.
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