You're Changing, Mas
Not as Good as Before

After that night, Gibran did not come out of the room at all. Dinner that I've prepared was not he ate let alone touch, just seen not. Whereas Gibran used to love my cooking the most, sometimes he requests food that he likes, but now no longer.

Here sometimes a wife feels the cooking she makes is in vain. It is the same as not appreciating the hard work of the wife, willing to spend hours struggling in the kitchen, which sometimes looks messy. Not to mention the knives that sometimes get scratched in the hand when cutting onions and vegetables. Isn't that also one of the struggles of a wife when cooking? Then why sometimes the husband does not appreciate it because he has eaten outside.

I wanted to think positively, but my heart was troubled by the current events that could no longer be controlled. It's been too long with Gibran's weirdo plus bad attitude in my eyes. I'm sure there must be something that made Gibran change against me. I will make sure of that, so that my heart is calm and the problem is settled.

"Mas, are you asleep?" I slowly asked while sitting on the side of the bed.

"Mas ... Mas ... You've...."

"Sstttt, can't you? I'm going to bed. Tired of knowing!" I snapped Gibran's cut off my words.

I was shocked, not usually Gibran snapped I like that, let alone his tone up and down as if he was angry with me. Yes, Gibran rose from his sleep because I woke him up. His eyes were sharp as if they wanted to prey on me, in the sense that they wanted to kill me. I was like an enemy to him.

"I-I want to talk to you Mas" I said nervously.

"You know it's night, time to sleep instead of talk. Tomorrow, I'm really tired today, ok!" gibran put his body back on the bed.

"Do you have time to talk tomorrow?" I'm holding tightness in my chest.

There is no answer from Gibran.

"Why silence? There isn't one, is there? You are now always busy with yourself until you forget the same Me, Mas. I don't know what your problem is? Or am I wrong with you? Tell me, Mas!" askaku.

There was no answer from Gibran. I'm sure Gibran hasn't slept, he's not answering my questions on purpose.

"Mas, please don't make me feel guilty for your changed attitude, Mum!" my voice this time was a little loud.

BUGH

Gibran's hand hit the mattress hard to make my body shake.

"There's enough, don't talk anymore. My head is dizzy, don't you know? How did my attitude change with you, huh? You're the only one who knows no, but really be a girl," mas Gibran felt himself innocent at all, he even mocked me.

"Even you don't call me 'honey' anymore'. You didn't pay attention to me just yet. This is You Cuekin Me, you are cold as Me. Sometimes you're not exactly clear with me, either" I said honestly.

As Gibran rose from his sleep, he turned to me. Implied once his eyes turned red, like holding something back, his hands clenched tightly. Actually I'm so scared of him right now. Honestly I'm afraid Gibran hit me. If that happens, then all this time the goodness of Gibran was fake. I chose the wrong husband. His loser nature I can't accept.

I looked down, wiping away the tears that had run down my cheeks. I don't think I can bear it when my husband turns into a terrible monster.

He got off the bed, walked out leaving me alone in the room.

BRAKKK

He closed the door very tightly. It is very unexpected if Gibran mas will be this angry. Its nature is very different from the previous one. The famous Mas Gibran is very kind, friendly, cheerful, very appreciative of women. Don't yell, no anger, he never did it to me at all. But now 180 degrees turned into a husband I don't know.

This is the first time Gibran and I have had such a big fight that we split the room. It's so hurtful. I cried incessantly while thinking about the cause of Gibran's transformation into a husband who was not in accordance with his sweet promise when he married me.

Morning again shone upon the earth, a day so bright, but not as bright as my heart. This morning I prepared breakfast for Gibran. I was busy in the kitchen while Gibran was getting ready in the room. Intentionally I let my room be inhabited only by him, because I don't want to make a bad atmosphere in the morning.

I waited for Gibran's mas to come down from the room. I'll forget about what happened last night, as if nothing happened. And now I must be able to soften Gibran's heart again at all costs. I am a wife and my job is to serve my husband well. I have to patiently accept his ugliness.

"For Mas, I've made you breakfast. We have breakfast together, yes" with a sweet smile I embrace Gibran's arms.

Finally mas Gibran would accept my invitation even though his facial expression was flat.

I served him well, starting from the food and drink he liked. I'm glad Gibran would have breakfast with me. But there is one thing lacking, cheerfulness. Again I feel neglected. There is no conversation. Mas Gibran devoured his breakfast by playing his cell phone without a care for me. The atmosphere became silent because of the silence of Gibran.

"What are you going to eat next night, Mom?" ask me gently.

Suddenly, Gibran rose from his seat while taking a suit that was then placed on his left arm.

"No need, maybe I'll go home at night" said Gibran.

"Any night again?" I have a worried and curious tone.

Gibran turned sharply towards me.

"Don't start a fight, I'm busy this morning," pressed Gibran and passed away.

Busy, busy and busy, always that's what he said. I just smiled blandly mixed with tears that I couldn't cover. Instantly I limp. Fortunately, there was a servant holding my body. Otherwise, I would have been weakly drooping on the floor.

I sat with my hands cupped on the table while covering my face. I cried, honestly I was so embarrassed at the waitress at home when she found out my relationship and Gibran's was not good.

"It's drinking water first, Buk. Be patient, Buk. Later Mr. Gibran is also good again if his emotions subside," the waiter gave me water to drink while comforting me.

I cried sobbing. This is the umpteenth time, I tried to be patient and gentle with Gibran, but still I could not ease his anger.