Pursuing the Love of My Husband
The Part 56 MCS

"Bram's."

Larisa chases after Bram who looks frustrated, walking towards the car without looking.

"Bram's." Larisa grabbed Bram's hand and hugged his arm.

"Larisa, please give me some time to calm down." pinta Bram let go of her hand then left Larisa.

"Bram, what should I do? I_" Larisa looked left and right at the eating area, deserted.

She desperately convinces Bram to stay married to her.

Not only begging speech, even the desperate actions he had done at that time.

The relationship that has been many years it certainly makes Larisa convinced that Bram still holds love in his heart.more so if they have slept in the same bed.

Larisa remembers Bram being angry and disliked at first, but in the end he promises to marry Larisa for the wrongdoing that night.

High education and extensive association did not make a desperate sell, he only needed time alone and made Bram touch him.

And very easily, the medicine given by his friend really reacts well, even Bram looks comfortable when they sleep together. In a sleepy atmosphere the man she loved did not refuse when Larisa embraced him.

In the same memory, Bram lamented his stupidity while driving with blurred eyes.

Regretting what had happened, if Bram had refused to overtime with Larisa that night, of course he would not have lost Habibah.

From the beginning Larisa did want to be touched, even she asked him blatantly. And I don't know why that night Bram couldn't resist. Larisa makes him helpless, even dominating under his control.

Between conscious and not, the two embraced each other, fondled and continued with the others. But Bram wasn't sure they were doing the whole point of their romance that night. Obviously, when they wake up they are not wearing anything.

Bram stops by a lonely roadside, trying to control emotions that must somehow be vaped to whom.

Really he realized if Larisa is not wrong in this, the feeling of love that is left is obviously always demanding to have, it can be felt Bram at this time, a sense that still wants to have Habibah.

But, losing Habibah made Bram feel very guilty, He was not wrong, he was just a wife who complied, trying to defend herself with all her heart in even difficult circumstances. And that's what makes Bram feel guilty, really lost.

"I'm the one who's wrong. Wrong for my wife, as well as Larisa who was from the beginning my lover." Bram closed his eyes, trying to come to terms with a million feelings raging in the chest. Admitting that if he is wrong, do not have to punish Larisa, nor impose the will on Habibah.

He turned back to the cemetery and picked up Larisa with him.

"I'm sorry."

*

*

*

And elsewhere.

Habibah sat half daydreaming under the pesantren yard tree, they had just finished exercising.

Not ready to go home, Habibah answered that day. Prefer to go home to the pesantren and live a simple life, really hurt when in the big city it makes him lose his sense of comfort there.

"You better start learning sincerely, it's not good to always avoid, let alone stay away from your own father. Wounds don't get hurt." Aunt Rumini's words sounded wise.

Habibah listened to the words of his aunt, since childhood the woman who understood him the most.

"Or Habibah is ready to accept the proposal of one of ustadz here?" ask Auntie for umpteenth time, holding the hand of the nephew who was like his own son.

"Not Auntie, I still want to be alone" he replied honestly.

"And that, the one who every time always sends flowers and gifts to you. Now more and more, do you know who he is?"

"I don't know Bibi." Habibah answered thinking.

If calculated, since he officially divorced there have been 17 submissions of the same name.

But to guess who it was, Habibah never knew. Suppose he is an ustadz, of course he will be brave in revealing his feelings. But if not ustadz, then who?

He remembered that this morning he had just received a delivery of flowers from someone. And there's a greeting card coming along this time.

Habibah reached into the bag of knee-length clothes that he wore it.

"From ustadz Aris huh Brother?" Yuni who had only heard earlier was now eager to know what the contents of the card Habibah would open.

"Not." replied Habibah glanced at Syafitri who had been sitting quite far away.

Habibah hesitated, but then Syafitri approached and grabbed the white greeting card.

"Let Syafitri open."

Habibah did not mind, after all he did not know who the sender was.

"Assalamualaikum." Syafitri's voice forced everyone to answer, but then slightly chuckled.

"Dear, Habibah. Sorry for all the flower bouquets that always come to disturb your activities.

If I'm to be honest, I'd love to come and reveal everything in person, that I admire you. But stop for not being sure a woman like you will accept this nothing of me.

But, as I've heard, a girl who says that don't fall in love with your wife. And I always remember that, I've never been in love, and I've never loved anyone but you.

Will you be willing to be my guilty wife?

Will you be willing to live a simple life with someone who has nothing like me?

To meet my face I feel ashamed. But my love demands to want to have you.

Lendra.

Syafitri folds again the cards in that hand.

Silent...

Some moments are still quiet ...

"Who's Brother?" ask Yuni to Syafitri, a graduate of Habibah's age.

But Syafitri shook his head, he just looked at Habibah with guesses.

So was Aunt Rumini who could not say anything, because the words were an expression of the heart of someone who knew Habibah.

"I've said it before" he said, his eyes glaring at him trying to remember where he said it.

"If he were an ustadz, the language he spoke must have called Ukhti." Yuni tried to guess.

Syafitri shook his head again, not bothering what his best friend was thinking.

"She has admired you for too long." Aunt Rumini said again.

"Six months of Habibah" Syafitri said.

"That's what we know, if we don't already know?" Yuni chimed in with a smile.

Habibah just took a breath, she really had no idea who sent the flowers and the many gifts.

Since that day, Habibah increasingly guessed who always paid attention to him, even the words written the next day increasingly show that someone is always watching him.

Until a courier returns to deliver the next package.

"I don't think the person who sent all this was a very distant person" Habibah told the courier.

Not without reason, several times Habibah saw the person who delivered flowers is the same person.

"Sorry ustadzah, I don't know." he replied lowered his head.

"Can he next, if he sends you flowers then you tell him to call me." Habibah gave me his phone number which was replaced.

The courier was a little confused.

"I waited for a message from him" said Habibah then passed into the pesantren.

The not-so-fast step paused for a moment, her red lips smiling.