Sugar Daddy Savings
Promise on the Bed

Azaan Ashar cried, I woke up from a long sleep. Yes, since coming home from the monastery I kept gluing my eyes together. Body fatigued due to two consecutive nights serving Om Yip.

I walked out of the room with both hands stretched and yawned wide right in front of the door.

“Astaghfirullah, the girl nguapnya so great, yes.” The sound was very familiar to me, coupled with his distinctive laugh similar to a horse's screech. I jumped in shock and immediately turned to the origin of the sound.

“Abimana?” that word came out of my mouth as it was seen he was sitting with mom and Bu Yuni. On the table was a parcel containing fruit. Then slowly tidied the hair that was scattered quickly.

“Hai,” said with a widened arch drawn on his face.

“Mother is not called? About her boyfriend came to forget about Mom,” she said by slitting and playing one eye. I just smiled in response to Bu Yuni's words.

“She came with Mom. I also told you that you were sick. He asked for your address, yes I brought it directly here aja.”

Bu Yuni's hand touched Abimana's shoulder, not infrequently he put his head there. I knit both eyebrows and nodded slowly. Abimana just shut up and looked at me.

“Sini, Nak.”

“Em, Shinta to the bathroom first, yes Mom. Want to wash your face,” I said by pointing towards the back. A little misbehaving in front of Abimana. How not, he came at such a bad time.

“No need to wash your face, you are beautiful. Just like Mom,” timpal Bu Yuni while stroking Abimana's thigh. Abhimana seemed to avoid that touch. He moved Bu Yuni's hand to another place, but this skinny woman repeated it again. From the look on the face of this man with a sharp nose looks uncomfortable.

I shook my head and walked into the bathroom. I hit the tub slowly, muttering to myself. “Aish! Why did he come to fit my face in this mess. Ish!” my hiss whining no crap. Not to mention the hair that is still messy due to waking up.

“Bu, can I take Shinta away sometime?” ask mom, I'm still eavesdropping in between the kitchen bulkhead. I continued to sharpen my hearing, only Bu Yuni's chattering rattled.

“Shinta, don't bother so. Entar bintitan.”

Huh huh? Stubborn, isn't that for people who like to peek, huh? Ah, whatever, like Bu Yuni, just, my mind.

I became misbehaved with Bu Yuni's words. Somehow he knew I was behind these curtains. Abimana chuckled for a while, then swept a glance towards me who stepped slowly to join them.

The wind gushed softly as if following the movements of a bird. The bustling green leaves waving added to my mood that I was somehow feeling when the look in Abimana's eyes was emitting something else. The sparkle in the brown bead hid the awe and liking that seemed to be on me.

“Bu, does Shinta already have a potential life partner?” he asked mother again without cue which made me aghast still holding my breath. This question made my heart stop suddenly, but I was still alive.

“Hehe. Shinta doesn't seem to have a boyfriend anymore, does Mom?” timpal Bu Yuni asked the mother. Mother was silent, looking at me and Abimana in turn. I don't know what Mom thinks. Maybe he felt that if I was with Abimana it would make me happy. Also Abiman could protect me given the police uniform he was wearing.

I immediately asked Abiman to go home, as well as Bu Yuni. The faces of the two looked confused. I sighed while looking at the window. Bu Yuni and Abimana were seen walking away slowly, Bu Yuni blabbed nonstop.

Abimana's gaze continued to stare towards my shabby house. I lowered my head trying to hold back all the feelings. It is inappropriate for a mistress to be a companion of a policeman. Not to mention his family who will strongly oppose our relationship later. Also a long process that will be passed to marry legally in the country.

“Nothing, Darling.”

****

I stood hugging myself. The sound of rain falling on the roof of the house. The look reminded me of the sad memories of that day. Memories that destroy my future. I heard the footsteps approaching in the courtyard of this old hut.

A knock on the door sounded, I opened it. This tall man of about 180 centimeters stood in front of me as he swept his clothes slowly due to rain drops. Long shirt rolled up to the elbow, also the way to hold the bag is typical Rama.

I quietly drew a big smile, as if I was looking forward to his presence. “Include, Ram.”

With dimples on both sides of her face it made me have another vibe to my chest. He works odd jobs at Om Yip monastery. However, he often accompanies Om Yip to meet with investors and organize some activities held in the monastery.

I let him in, got him a glass of tea to just warm him up. Rama is seen sitting on an elongated chair while sweeping a view around the wall of the board attached to some pictures of me there.

Rama cupped both hands that were above the thighs, then caught blindly looking at me intensely.

“Shinta, someone wants me to talk to you.”

I blinked then looked for a comfortable sitting position without taking my eyes off him. His face is so serious, not infrequently he close his lower lip riled.

I frowned. “Why, anyway? Ngmong, Ram?”

“If I tell you the truth, do you believe me?”

I'm nodding. “Why not?”

Rama seemed to develop a smile on his face. This change left me a little confused and wondering about what it meant and purpose to come here during this rainy day.

“I want to marry you, Shinta.”

“What? Crazy one! You are crazy, you know!” I stood up and drove Rama away.

“Shin, I said there was a reason. Handed me first.”

“Reason? What?” Rama was silent, I don't know what he was hiding, “Why silence? You cannot answer, ‘kan?” I pushed his body with my index finger many times. However, Rama remained silent a thousand languages and bowed while holding his bag.

I took a deep breath, rubbing my huffed face. “You'd better go home Ram. I don't know if you have a reason to be so rich. I don't understand any of this. I'm asking you to go home.” Rama left without any more words coming out of his lips.

There are no words I can describe about my current feelings. The vocabulary of the poets cannot represent the unrest of all hearts. How do I describe the row of words that came from the mouth of Rama, which indeed managed to mess with the mind.