Passion Love CEO Bastard
There's No Giving Up In My Dictionary

My name is Balqis Nabillah, usually called Kiss by those closest to me. I want to share a piece of my story in pioneering my career before becoming a writer and after becoming a writer.

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I was alone in the room. I looked straight out the window. Still ringing in my ear my mother's advice moments ago.

Thirty minutes ago my mother called me, she was in Malaysia. My mother is TKW there, the difficulty of the economy makes my mother have to migrate to the land of people.

"Mom, go back to Aceh. Let me just work! My mom is old and we are all grown up. Just let us work now and mom stay home taking care of the sisters!" I said to my mother with a voice that shook withholding the cry.

I was sad to hear the story of my aunt who was in Malaysia. She said my mom over there only ate rice with instant noodle side dishes.

My mother was willing to torture herself, slamming her bones and holding her hungry to save money in order to send us her children.

Really, I don't have the heart. My heart was broken, it felt like at that time I followed my mother to Malaysia and brought her back to Aceh.

However, I have no money because my salary is only eight hundred thousand a month.

"Yes, Son. Mama's going home! But, not now. Later when the savings are a lot. So that when you go home later you have money to open a business and sue for divorce dad!"  reply to my mother in a slow tone.

I knew she was holding her cry there too. I clenched my hands tightly trying to endure the tightness that was suffocating my neck.

Divorce is the most feared and hated thing by children. However, what can I do because I understand my mother's situation.

My father used to be the son of a rich man in North Aceh. My grandfather was a coalitionist and the chief director of the Bumi Gas company in Aceh in the 80s.

Being born into a rich family made my father a lazy figure because of his need to be facilitated by my grandfather. Not having a birth mother figure made my father's life unkempt.

Because my grandfather chose to remarry and have many children. I don't know how the neighborhood shaped my father into a lazy figure.

Said my father's people used to live a luxurious life, like poya-foya and consume marijuana. I don't know if it's all fact or fiction.

However, wherever I go people must know my father, they say my father was the richest man in the past.

After my grandfather passed away our family life was further ruined because no one else gave money to my father.

Grandpa's company went bankrupt.

Long story short from when I was little, until I was 21. My father no longer gave birth to my mother. All those years my mother who slammed her bones gave us food.

My father only gave me shopping money once a month enough for one meal.

Do I hate my father? The answer is NO at all.

It's just that I learned a lot about the bitterness of life from my father and mother. If I were a slacker, I would be like my father.

I had to lie to my mother because I didn't want her to be tormented by thinking about how we ate everyday.

"Alhamdulillah, then you will have many tubes every month so you can quickly go home and live with you again!" reply happy mom across there.

That was my last conversation with my mom. Soon my father and mother will be divorced.

My brothers and I are broken homes. We used to hear and see fathers and mothers fighting every day.

"Why is it so hard to be happy, anyway?" 

I cried alone in my room until I fell asleep. 

The next day I went back to work as a waiter at the restaurant. The days I spent with my chest. 

Not least I get a haughty customer who humbles me. In fact, the names of their animals spewed out for me.

I can't stand the heat of my ears every day hearing the harsh words of my boss and customers.

I finally decided to resign from the same. Then go back to the village to apply for work at one of the meatball stalls near the house.

I used to live in a boarding house.

Thank God I was accepted and my salary there was more than two hundred thousand. 

Again I am grateful for having a very kind boss. However, I have a senior looking for face.

I was tormented doing heavy work while they did light work. But I do not complain because I believe that God does not sleep.

Until time goes by so fast. Weeks changed months and I've been working for five months in a meatball stall.

Thank God the senior who was looking for face has resigned and fired. Junior who replaced them is very good at his ethics. I am good friends with them and my days are now running smoothly without any resentment in my heart because my juniors can work together.

My mother has also returned from Malaysia after three years in the neighboring country. 

My mom didn't want to file for my dad's divorce because she didn't have the money to pay a lawyer. Because my mom was tricked by the agent who brought her home.

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