YOUR LOVE IS DISAPPEARING
Chapter 9

Mayang POV

From the bottom of my heart, I hated the man I called my husband. He willingly treated me like a maid even worse. I regret marrying her, if only I had listened more to my mother's words maybe now I'd be happy.

For many years I have survived in Nestapa, enduring for the sake of the baby I love so much. Ali grew up without the affection of a father, whom Ali knew only his uncle Riska as his father. The love that Riska had over her own father. I am fortunate to have a family that loves me.

My heart was broken to pieces when my head was shaved because it was smelly and dirty, he just knew I was dirty never knew I was clean. Obviously dirty because I just came home from a rubber plantation owned by a neighbor who was far away was very good, if he knew I was holding back nausea while in the train garden. I am a wife who demands nothing when I know my husband has money. I also know he shares and foya-foya for his friend but for me and Ali he doesn't care. Also because of this incident my father died, my hatred for my son's father increased.

Having an illness is not my wish, I hate you bang. Hate is hate. The days I spent in the backyard garden, growing vegetables, chili and catfish cattle for sale. The man who has said accept me and my shortcomings in front of the ruler is in fact only boasting.

My skin that was once pure white is now turned brown and dry, all because of the blazing sun that continues to sting mercilessly and sometimes the rain that flushes this body. Until the body's endurance is weakened.

The concern of the man I don't want to call my husband was never one. He was busy with his world, then forced his will. I never cared if I was healthy or sick. Land disease berrogoti this body, pain in the urination canal so felt also the upper abdomen so painful when I was late to eat. Not once I was late to eat but I often did so that the children and boys I did not deserve to call the husband first ate, I only ate the leftovers, I only ate the leftovers, he said, also often eating the sour citrus fruit that he brought to thin my stomach, I ate it in front of my son's father was forced from him.

My heart was more sliced like a heart-wrenching pain, when my eyes saw him embrace a woman who was younger than me. I wanted to go to the hospital with my mom about the illness I was feeling. Mother always knew what I was feeling but she kept quiet and chose never to interfere in our domestic affairs.

Always the mother who cares about me. It is like a widow who lives her own child and struggles alone.

Still attached to the memory of when I was left in the hospital alone and struggling alone, I prayed that God would take my life, a directionless life with a husband like him makes me tired.

My eyes kept staring at the ceiling of the hospital room that was pure white, suddenly someone came and sat down beside me.

”You good?” Ask in a distinctive tone that I used to know. My heart stopped beating for a moment.

”Good,” answered I turned towards the voice. Our eyes met for a moment.

”You're different now,”. Wanted to take my hand but I was soon to be pushed away.

”Do not touch. We're not mahram,” my whistle. Unmarried men and women are not mahrams and should not touch except in case of emergency.

”Sorry, Mayang. I know but I'm too worried about you, I still love you so much. Many women come but only your shadow dances in memory,” he explained at length. Unknowingly, there was a figure who heard our conversation in the doorway.

”Mother,” the brightest man who loved me first until this second. He got up from his seat and approached the woman who gave birth to me and immediately grabbed her hand and endured it with reverence.

”Honey, sorry mom. Your husband asks that I keep you here until you recover. Mayang listen to mom this time, irresponsible men like her it's good you fight for divorce,” said the mother relentlessly. I don't know what got into him until he said words he never said before.

”Bu, can we talk this another time,” hope I am to the woman who stands carrying a big bag. Hearing the words of the strong-bodied mother came out of the nursery.

”Told you how difficult it is. You are now a gembel, not like you were the village flower,” mother protest again.

I knew his heart was breaking watching me work a bone slam in order to make enough of the family's living. The burly man went back in and left a business card on a small cupboard beside me and then crucified his mother's hand with a farewell reverence and walked out of the room without looking at me.

My heart is empty, let alone to love another person or man, loving this self is reluctant. Why would I survive if I always had to suffer, Ali? Not entirely dependent on me, Ali is more often with my mother because the mother at home is very lonely and Riska also often takes her vacation and play.

The request that God take my life in the operating room is not granted by God, maybe God wants to play a little in the charade I'm running. I spent three days in the hospital but my son's father never came, to this day my return from the hospital also I have to walk alone to the waiting chair at the hospital.

He who has no heart or I who is selfish never cares about myself, demands too much from him that I feel tired and sick. A few minutes waiting for my son's father to come in a fancy car who doesn't belong. No special word came out of his mouth, not even a word of affection was ever spoken.

My heart felt tight when a pair of high heels were in the seat next to the steering wheel, I chose to be positive maybe this is the car that his friend borrowed.

____

Up to two weeks I had felt a little fresher and a little cleaner and my skin had also started to white again. The house that was clean is now like a broken ship that ran into a reef in the ocean. But I prefer to be quiet and ignore everything that happens in this house.

Something stuck in his heart, the luxury car did not move from the yard, my mind said that this was his car but he said that the car belonged to his brother in Malaysia.

Now my condition has improved and the former surgery has also dried up. On the terrace I cleaned the old rice bought by my son's father, rice that already smells musty and hard if cooked using a little water.

Finished cleaning the rice I cleaned it all up, without me noticing the man I used to call cheek was watching me and touching the necklace I was wearing, asking who it belonged to and where it came from, I answered honestly if what I got from my mother, never lied to her when we were married.

I went back in and received a call from my worn-out flat object. The man who will be my boss will come check on me and also check my house.

Well, this time we'll play a smooth game. Who played with fire first. May the Lord always be with me and with me.

Seriate....