Accompanying First Love To KUA
Part 01's

Arrived in Keumala village at half-five in the afternoon, with heavy rain. He had to take shelter in one of the huts by the road. Looks like a peasant hut guarding his garden, because when to be occupied everyday it looks not worth it.

"Mom!"

"Astaghfirullah, i-yes." My daydream. I watched the view ahead. A young man wearing a short-sleeved white T-shirt.

"Mbak," repeated.

"Yes, Assalamu'alaikum" I said clumsily.

He also answered my greetings.

Oh my God, did I get lost in the kahyangan, so I met this prince?

"Mas, I'm allowed to take shelter, huh?"

"Yes yes, please. I'm just surprised that suddenly there are strangers here" he concluded with a smile.

I threw a glance, looking back at the raindrops that were peppering the ground. I'm not sure this is human. For his good looks stir the heart that looks. Lebays.

"Sorry," he said.

He looked up at the leaking roof where the water fell on my shoulder.

"The mother stayed wet in the shade of my house" he continued.

I pulled the corner of my lips into a smile. "Ga papa," I said.

"Oh yeah, whose name is Ma'am?"

Friendliest. This is what came to my mind. "Azzazirah. Just call Zira," I explained to her.

The door of his house was not tightly closed, it looked a beautiful sight inside. The end of the calligraphy frame was caught by my eyes. This fits with the slogan, 'My house is my palace'.

"This guy, isn't he?" He still throws tanya. The tip of his little finger scratched his forehead with his eyebrows engraved thickly there.

"No, Mas. Oh yeah, whose name is it?" I asked back.

"Khabab Al-Masri, call me Khabab" he said.

The nose is sharp, coupled with red lips ranum like mingling like the lips of a woman. Convince this young man is not a smoker. I just heard his name was Khabab Al-Misteri, uh, Al-Masri. A good name. Rarities. Some kind of good looks of her.

This must be a lost creature in Keumala village or indeed the residents here are all handsome, huh? But it's impossible, after all Fattah was destroyed, not too bad anyway.

"So the destination to this village, what?" ask him politely.

"To Uncle Rahman's house."

Yes bearded.

then there was a gap between us. It felt clumsy myself, so I decided to reach into the phone from the pocket of the game. Shifting the flat object screen, the singular is missing arising.

The rain began to subside, only the remnants of drizzle.

"Thank you, Mas Khabab, I've taken Zira's shelter" I said. I put the phone back in my pocket.

"Yes, equally. Say hello to Fattah yes, I was sent back from the city two days ago, but have not visited here."

"Yes yes, God willing. Assalamu'alaikum."

"Wa'alaikumussalam."

Kupijaki the muddy land that just briefly rained has been harvested with water. Treading to tread the road leaving the hut of the reot, the left of which has been supported by bamboo, maybe so as not to prostrate. The road here is still stone land has not been paved.

I turned back to the back where Mas Khabab was standing, he smiled. "Need to be delivered?"

"No papa, Mas," I refused subtly.

I was first here, but with the description of the address that Mas Fattah gave me last night, Allhamdulillah was not too complicated to follow.

Children run around playing mud, occasionally accidentally slipping themselves in a puddle. Deckle body, knee-length slum pants no longer visible original color. Then there was the sound of crying among the boy, one of them slipped while running. But his friend laughed. Really too, but that's what friends .. laugh first just helped.

"Azzazira!"

"Mas Fattah?" I smiled happily, finally Mas Fattah Uncle's son, came to pick me up. It was quite heavy the backpack I carried. The back already feels pegel with the hands there is also a load, pulling the suitcase.

Fattah smiled at the children. "Other fine, if sprained who's sick?" ask the child who fell. Fattah helped him stand up.

I walked closer. "Mas, help me carry my bag, yeah." I frowned.

"It's been a long time?"

I handed her the bag, "Lumayan, but it was resting there." Show me to the back. The young man's house was no longer visible from here.

***

"Mas, you know Mas Khabab?" I sat with both hands curled at my knees, looking at the half moon in the sky.

Mas Fattah was sitting on the stairs, while I was on the terrace floor.

"Know, how do you know?"

"Say, Mas's coming back from the city hasn't been to his house, he's nitip greeting."

"I suspect, nih, know ama Khabab," he said as if curious. The tail of his eyes glanced at me.

However, my phone from my pocket is ringing. I can't continue the subject of conversation with him.

"Hello" said the man across the street.

"Yes." Yeah." Hurry up and get away from Mas Fattah.

"Why not buy uda sampe, Ra?"

"There's no signal here, ma'am. Sorry," I said.

The day I was in town, he said, "There will be a pious man in the village and you will forget me."

"No, my mom. I am special in my heart's room, only your name is beautifully engraved" I said.

Mas Ajmul laughed, "Have taken care of yourself and keep your heart there."

.

He's on the couch I'm laying down the body. I asked the man across the street what he was doing, so that the speaker would not end quickly.

"Again miss you" said Mas Ajmul. Without feeling the two corners of my lips are attracted until a perfect smile is formed. But he forgot to ask back.

I touched with cynics. "It should be that everything should be reciprocal. Not turning me back on what?"

"No, because surely you're missing me too" he said with a giggle.

"So much geer."

I don't know what to say until late night.

Ajmul, the faithful man I know. He was a final-level student and I was in that fifth semester. At first we knew because we both attended a seminar. I love her so much.

He's a guy who likes to rebuke me when I'm wrong. Suppose when he graduated, and I started compiling the thesis, every phone call, asked how many pages of the thesis completed today? Sometimes I even trick him. He did not allow me to pay anyone to compile the thesis. This is one of the reasons why I do not want to turn my heart to love others. She's a.

Mas Ajmul son of a successful entrepreneur. His father liked to rely on him, he had to follow wherever he told him to. Like driving his father's car holding the steering wheel.

He studied in the management department, he said that the will of the father was not his desire.

"Ekhem." Deheman's voice sounded from outside, I quickly kept quiet.

"It's late" said Mas Fattah. He pretended to talk to the others, the goal was me. If you talk to someone else, who? Mother and Uncle are asleep.

"Mas, it's been, yes, Assalamu'alaikum," I told Mas Ajmul.

"Wa'alaikum salam. Why?"

"Already, already, bye."

"Miss you."

"Miss you too." I turned off the phone too. "No, no need to miss it." I switched back to Mas Fattah.

"Darling I'm tired," he sneered again.

If it's never finished. There are always more and more arguments. Otherwise, it's not Fattah.

"HUEK," my cynic, "jomlo people are so jealous." From inside the room I responded to the interlocutor outside.

He also laughed.

From now on, there will be a story about me and Keumala village. Adjusting to this village. Going through the days somehow, sukah? The dukakah? But I have to accept.

I've been told to come home since Mom died, but I refused. After S1 yesterday I just approved. Just give up my dream and while waiting for Mas Ajmul to pick me up to get married.

Seriate

Acute, Feb 15 '20

Revisions

06 April '20