His Purpose
139. Melancholy

Mary glanced at Gibran many times, half wondering why he was so silent this morning. Gibran was quiet, but never quiet now. Her roar was also strange, not infrequently Maria found the man avoiding her gaze.

"Koko why? How, his face so haggard?"

"Hm?" Gibran turned his head, only for a moment because a second later he threw his face away, pretending to focus on the object he had been holding. "It's okay. Why me?"

Maria clucked softly, Gibran asked back. Maria is sure there is something. Gibran's moves are suspicious. And again, since when did Gibran like to play ruby? Or all this time Maria didn't know?

"Coko doesn't work?"

Yang Maria knows Gibran also has a business branch in Jakarta. At least Gibran will go home early in the afternoon, as the man often did during his month stay here.

But, once Gibran still wear regular t-shirts and trousers, even though the day is enough.

"Today I'm at home" Gibran replied in short.

When Maria first returned to Jakarta, her gestational age was still 3 months, it did not feel that she had now stepped on 4 months, even almost entering the fifth month.

If according to Gibran's plan that originally allowed him to stay here for 3 months, they should have returned to the mansion 6 months later.

Gibran is still sitting on the sofa facing the balcony. Maria is not sure how she looked. But obviously Gibran is looking for a diversion from something.

Maria had no idea Gibran had been crying all night beside her. The man tried to avoid being embarrassed by an eye condition that could not be said to be okay.

It turns out this is the taste and effect caused by crying. Gibran did not know what to do with his swollen eyes.

Maria turned to Laura who was trying to put her sleeves in. The girl was helping him get dressed after his bath. Because the condition is quite difficult, yesterday Gibran bought new dresses intersected short sleeves and loose in the armpit.

"Be careful, ouch."

"Geez, nagging, huh? Sorry, ma'am," said Laura.

"It's okay. It's over, you go out."

"But Madam hasn't combed her hair yet."

"I'm going to ask my husband to do it."

"Ohh ..." Laura scratched her hair while grimacing. "Yes, well, Madam. Then I'm out. Would you like some food?"

Maria thought for a moment. "Emm .. no need, I'll just go downstairs."

"Oh, okay. Excuse me, Madam."

"Hm." Maria nodded in response to Laura's departure.

He quickly brought a comb and approached Gibran on the sofa. "Shop."

Mary frowned because Gibran was looking deeper and deeper. Was he that focused until he had to look down as hard as he stared at rubik?

"Coko combin my hair, dong." Reluctant to think more, Maria sat cross-legged under the sofa right in front of Gibran.

He put the comb next to the man. Before long he felt Gibran's hands touching and carefully breaking his hair. The treatment was so gentle as to be afraid of scratching Maria's scalp.

Without Mary knowing Gibran was desperately holding back his tightness when he accidentally found a stitch scar on Mary's head. The small line that spanned that length was already faintly visible. However, the effect is able to stomp Gibran's heart until almost out of place.

This is the result of your stupidity. The meaning in the heart.

Gibran blinked a moment to avert his gaze.

"Do you want to be tied up or stitched up?" ask Gibran raspy.

"Just as for Koko, Koko wants to see me how it is today?"

Gibran thought. "Just tie it up, huh? Let's not spit her hair. You must be bothered if it's scratched. Tie it up slowly, really."

Gibran began to try to style Mary's hair and put it together as neatly as possible. But maybe because his hands are not expert the result is still messy.

Many times Gibran clucked dissatisfiedly and repeated his bond.

Maria was already giggling without a sound from earlier. Gibran who was in trouble like this made him amused himself.

"Still long?" tanyanya.

"Before a second" said Gibran in a very focused voice.

I don't know how many breaths came out of Gibran's mouth. Although he had concentrated, there was only Mary's hair that slipped from the bond.

"I didn't know behind beautiful hair there was this much difficulty" Gibran grumbled at the end.

Maria could not help but laugh at Gibran's annoyance. "Yes, it's just a booth" he suggested.

But Gibran shook his head and insisted on tying Mary's hair.

"Try to tie it under, not over." Maria advised.

Gibran also complied and lowered a little jump of the hair to the neck. "Lookin?"

"Yes." Yeah."

Finally Gibran could sigh in relief after successfully tying Maria's hair properly. Her lips turned a smile on Mary's head from behind. He embraced Mary's shoulder with his hand and rested his head on the top of her hair.

"Racid?" mock Maria.

Gibran chuckles. "Further tired than sport," he always replied.

Mary smiled leaning comfortably in Gibran's embrace. He soon asked. "Koko why cry?"

Silent. Mary could feel Gibran's stiffening body. Then the man laughed, but it sounded bland.

"Who did I say I was crying?"

Maria did not answer, she unexpectedly looked up, the thing that made Gibran's tongue cloudy because in the end they were facing each other, which showed Gibran's face as swollen.

"Koko's face can't lie" Maria said. "Koko thinks I don't know since Koko tried to avoid me? It must be because of this, right?"

"Honestly, what makes a Gibran Wiranata cry to produce a face like this?"

"Don't dodge anymore. Koko rarely cries, you know. You could say I've never seen Koko actually cry. What's going on?"

"We are husband and wife. It is only natural to share with each other. Koko don't keep anything saved by herself. I as a wife feel bad for not being the most comfortable place for my husband to tell a story."

"So please, put all Koko's complaints to me, so I can know and understand what to do to explore the mood of Koko who seems to be not good lately."

Silent.

Gibran was unable to answer, nor was Mary reluctant to give in to the urge. Gibran again threw away his face trying to avoid Mary's gaze. His roar began to dim as his jakun went up and down gulping spit.

Soon Gibran's eyes turned red. In the end the man's defense collapsed in front of Maria. Gibran cried as he lowered his head.

Mary, who had turned to look completely at Gibran, grabbed him and held him in one hand, wiping the man's black mane quietly.

This is probably the first tear Mary saw from Gibran. Maria never thought Gibran could cry so well. The man looked fragile with his shoulders shedding.

The figure that many people feared is now gone. He looked weak, wounded and full of sadness.

But what Mary did not understand was Gibran's apology. Many times the man muttered an apology that he had somehow addressed to whom.

To Maria? What did Gibran do wrong?