The Fading Love
Papah doesn't love Aska

It's been two days Aska in the hospital, I no longer try to contact Zidan, I just want to wear it when I meet later, I want my son back cheerful.

My talkative aska had been lying weak for two days in the sickle bed, I still remember very well when her tiny body was shivering in the cold, I begged to open the door, I asked to open it, asking permission to enter just shelter in front of the luxurious house of his mother Zidan. It hurts my heart as a mother who is not good at looking after her son.

The lightning that struck made the atmosphere even more gripping, I could only protect Aska, by making my body a shield for her.

Ringing the phone on the nightstand to disperse my daydream, I release one hand that continues to hold Aska's hand to reach the phone. My eyes immediately glazed over to see the caller who I so desired his presence in the moment when I was as fragile alone as I am now.

"mamah" I said softly, I took a deep breath to control the tightness so as not to make my parents who were in the village worried.

*"Assalamualaikum momah"

"Waalaikumsallam, son" O God, I miss my mother, my father. I rarely contact them because of the guilt that still haunts me.

I denied them because I did not approve of my relationship with Zidan. They did not approve because of our family caste differences, even my papah went straight home after becoming my marriage guardian, while my mom and brother did not even come at all, there is a great guilt for them.

"what's up, Inayah kangen mamah, which papah mah?" I hope my mom doesn't know that her daughter is holding back her tears.

"good papah Alhamdulillah healthy son, mamah call you because lately, mamah keep thinking of you, you are healthy there son?" collapse has defended me, all spilled, I cried but did not roar in front of my mamah, there was a panic call from everywhere.

"Yes, Aya why baby, same story mama Aya why"

"ma-mah, Aya kangen mamah, Aya kangen papah, Aya wants to meet" from just about anywhere there was the same crying sound.

"mama papa also kangen Aya"

"mah, Aya want to look at mama papah, maybe the day after tomorrow, pray ya mah"

"yes baby yes, come son, bring our grandson, mama papah kangen your handsome son" I smiled, as I turned to look at the pale face of Aska. I didn't tell them as much detail as what happened in the last few days, I didn't want to worry them, I just promised them that me and Aska would come to visit. Let go of the longing that for years never met a greeting.

I miss my mama's cooking, I miss my papah nagging, from High School to college I've wandered away from them. I rarely went home because of the long distance, until I got married and settled in Jakarta. I've never been home to meet and hug the two people I love so much.

The feeling of relief now a little I feel, I feel my burden a little less, hearing the sound of mamah just makes my feelings calm. Suddenly said from my mouth promise to go home with Aska, it seems like I really want or I need.

I can smile a little, I no longer hope the man who has husband status calls, I have also not sent anymore tens or even hundreds of messages to ask him to come home, because all those messages are just read. All my messages were sent to his phone, but Zidan had no intention of simply replying.

....

On the third day, Aska began to improve, even I had heard her voice again, although it had not rambled as usual. Three tablespoons of porridge I managed to put in his mouth, that too with all sorts of persuasion. Aska has started with all her adorable behavior.

After calling my mom yesterday, I went straight home the other night, I got some clothes for myself and Aska, I'm going to go home to my parents for a few days, maybe a week, two weeks, I don't know, let's just say it's my protest against Zidan who has absolutely no one asking me and Aska.

Aska and I will leave immediately after Aska is allowed to go home, I have also notified the school.

"mom, papah ko not here see Aska" I put one of my left hands on the head of Aska, the bowl of porridge that began to look muddy I put it back on the nightstand.

"Other son's work" that's all I can say, there's a sense of laziness too if you keep talking about Zidan.

"do you love Aska, don't you think it's all that?" one knife-like question that goes right in my heart 'the father doesn't love Aska' ahh, why is it so painful that sentence, is it true that Zidan does not love his son. There was no intention for a moment to leave his job and visit his son. Is it true that Zidan does not care about Aska who is lying weakly in this sickle bed, is it true that Zidan still questions the presence of Aska.

Recalling all that, considering that Zidan could even drag the heavily pregnant me out of the cafe in anger seeing the two of me with my boss made my head throb violently.

In a moment of burning emotions, Zidan suddenly questioned who the father of the child I bear. He doubted the child in my womb, the child who was clearly present because of the love of his parents. At that time I could understand if Zidan was angry, I was not papa, but in fact the sentence continued I heard repeatedly when Zidan was angry, even though the anger was not caused by me.

"father dear Aska, what a pity" Aska shook her head slightly, her lips pursed forward.

"said Caca, Azzam, gala" Aska mentioned some of her friends' names at school, I listened carefully.

"they say, if papah loves his son, papah mama will wait at school like their papah, hold Aska to school, kiss Aska's forehead like their father's father, mah" when I heard my son's words, the difference between the papah himself and the papah of other children made Aska conclude that his papa does not love him.

Zidan rarely gives a little valuable time to play with Aska, or just ask what the latest toys Aska has. Things like that Zidan never did to Aska, invite Aska to play together or learn.

Zidan seemed to have deliberately built so sturdy a barrier between him and Aska, not allowing Zidan to enter without his permission. Zidan continued to quibble if I began to complain about his cold attitude to Aska, Zidan would say, 'That Aska should be independent, not spoiled' O Allah, my son is only four years old, my son is only four years old, he still needs the love of his parents, not maxut want to spoil, but at that age Aska needs attention as a child his age.

"father busy son, papah did not have time between Aska schools"

"father does not love Aska" Aska closed his eyes tightly, maybe he was also hurt because during papa pain had never come to visit.

I let the Aska blanket lie again, I make sure the infusion is still dripping out, I read the story of his favorite Prophet for the bedtime.