Sacred In Stain
Tearable

Khalisa 19. Tearable

“Bu, please, let me explain it to Khalisa myself!” sergeant Dion was quick to disagree with the frontal way his mother conveyed to Khalisa. He wants to explain in his own way, although the edges still lead to a similar estuary, which is to tear the heart of the innocent nan ayu who is now sculpting, silent.

“You said it over time, too many pleasantries. You or the mother who explains the goal remains the same, right? It makes no difference. To the point is better, it saves time. Already, now bring Manda in,” Wulan's edict to Dion, his tone refused to be denied. And as usual, Dion was always the buffalo that had his nose poked, nodding and guiding Manda in, only taking a quick glance at Khalisa who was still in shock.

“Akur-akur same honey. Don't cry. But where do you want to go, too? Who would you like to share with? It's still good to have you. You have a normal place to live rather than in that very home. Now prepare a drink for us, do not stay there. Home we have the arrival of a great guest, should be well entertained.” Instead of caring a little about how devastated Khalisa felt, Wulan gave orders as good as he could.

The loud thumping noise shifted Dion's focus on helping Amanda sit on the sofa. Made quite panicked when he found Khalisa collapsed, collapsed lying on the terrace.

“Undaaa!” Afkar was the first to pour into the terrace. Running hastily even his two tiny legs almost tripped. The three-year-old toddler patted her on the cheek, starting to cry.

“Mas, where are you going?” Amanda held Dion's arm, apparently not liking Dion's surprised reaction when she saw Khalisa collapsed.

Stepping wide, Dion followed after persuading Amanda who wanted to continue at the unified number. Kneeling on Khalisa's rolled side, Dion shook Khalisa's arm. “Khal, Khalisa! Wakes up. Mom, how is this?” said confused.

“Halah, it's Dion. At best just fainted. Don't panic like that. Just bring it in, keep the eucalyptus on his nose. Khalisa is not suitable for pampering. Soon also rumored,” said Wulan lightly unmoved, while Afkar continued to cry to see his mother unconscious.

Insulted, it's common. It is like everyday food. Not considered and appreciated, it's okay as long as it still has a place to go home called home and family. But combined, Khalisa never thought that even the tip of the nail would experience it, complementing his nest. Tub of milk returned tuba for his devotion to Dion and his service as a daughter-in-law to Wulan.

Her place hangs her only hope, her husband, has torn her trust. Married again behind her back, and with her stand brought her honey home already in a state of great pregnancy without the slightest thought of her feelings being torn into pieces.

Khalisa was sobbing painfully, soaking in tears at the end of the bed while hugging his son. Half an hour ago, he finally woke up after losing consciousness.

The earth he was on, as it rotated violently causing both legs to lose their support when knowing the husband had been feeding him for so long. The air around him seemed to ring deafeningly. The fierce storm lashed his world to a pitch black, making his consciousness disappear right then and there. Throwing the heart of a Khalisa who is already fragile and perforated everywhere, eroded so much pressure is also a sneer just because of the stain note attached to it.

“Drink first, Khal.”

Dion sat on the side of the mattress, thrusting a glass of water. There was no reaction, Khalisa neither answered nor received the glass. Turning away unwilling to look at her while hugging Afkar who had just fallen asleep in her arms, exhausted from crying.

Taking a rough breath, Dion put a glass near the foot of the bed because Khalisa never received it. Striking the loud oxygen in the silence of the room, Dion got up from his seat and spoke again, “Please yourself first, after that we have to talk at length,” he said, no attempt was made to persuade or apologize.

“Why would I be the same?”

Khalisa's soft words, which were stuck in his throat and angered, stopped Dion's footsteps, who was about to reach the door.

Dion turned body. Their gazes met in a straight line saru, rubbed against the eyes of the two women who had been his wife for four years. Khalisa's heart window was shiny wet, reflecting his wounded heart.

“Has my time as a wife been lacking? Is my obedience over these four years meaningless? Tell me which attitude I am, which attitude I am the part that makes me have to be placed in this kind of thorny situation!” his screams were roaring, screaming furiously filled with lara. Roaring in tears with nothing soothing, without consolation.

“Not because of it.” Dion shook his head thinly, turning his gaze to the ceiling. He avoided seeing Khalisa for too long. The wet and sambap eyes invite guilt to disturb his heart, a sense that he does not want to admit defeated ego.

“Lantas because what? Explain to me, explain where my fault is!” the demand won't subside. The shock of the wound that Dion and his family gave, prompting the usually meek Khalisa to now shout high with a chest of fireworks burning with emotion.

“Without explaining the reason, you should already know because of what I am. This is all because of your fault, Khal. Wrong your past, your origin, not mine,” replied Dion coldly, then turned around to leave the room.

Seriate.