To The Man Who Broke My Heart
8. The Nerve of This Man

+628112233243: Kay

+628112233243: you how are you?

+628112233243: I miss you

Oh, my God. The nerve of this man. I really can't believe that I just read such a message.

I really did not expect that the man who I thought was too good turned out to have a genuine nature like this.

Never mind. I don't want to reply to the message Harris sent me. Not because I was angry and disappointed, but because I had no feelings for Harris. It's no use either. It doesn't seem to be mandatory anymore to reply to messages and pick up the phone from him. I explained it from the beginning, right? I can't promise you anything.

After all, does he not remember that he called me to confirm that he and I are no more? Then why is he still sending me messages like that? Whatdoes thatmean?

****

However, still in the end I also have to understand that loving you is a decision that I should not regret. After all, you used to share your hug warmly with me. You once kissed my lips gently. You are also the one who often exist and calm my sedu sedan. It's just that maybe destiny was never written down so that we can continue to be together and end up with each other. Alright. Let this wound I will always carry, I don't know where this leg will go. Whether until when this heart continues to beat, this breath continues to blow. If you're happy there, I should be happy here too, right?

****

....

I still remember. That day was Wednesday. While waiting for the next lecture schedule in the room, all I did was stare at my phone screen. I am currently reading status updates on the homepage of my Instagram account. Suddenly a feeling passed through the heart, the memory was immediately on someone. “Kangen Geko, ih. Now he must have class."

Later I typed my girlfriend's name in the search section. Harrissky Ilham. The profile page of the account appears immediately. I happily began activities intended to reduce a bit of my longing for her figure. After looking through the photos, I turned to the reel that Harris shared. Then it shifted to the section containing the post that marked my man's account.

Deg.

Somehow I felt something was knocking on my instincts and urged to see a collection of birthday photos of a woman who knew who. And as a woman, I listen to my heart. I touched the first photo in the carousel.

The first photo is a photo of a pink birthday cake with a butterfly decoration. On top of it are some candles lit and the words "Happy Birthday, Fani". For the next three slides appeared some photos that showed the preoccupation of some men and women on the beach.

On the fourth slide, my eyes were pounded into a photo of two women standing side by side smiling at the camera. One of them was holding a birthday cake. I thought maybe it was that woman named Fani. In the next photo, Fani is surrounded by several men and she certainly shows off a happy expression.

Again, someone kept urging me to keep looking at the collection of photos. As anyone whispers “keep looking, just keep” to the ears. And indeed, I obey. I continued to open one photo at a time until someone finally stopped my finger from rubbing the screen.

The photo on the screen shows a man and a woman smiling happily towards the lens. The man hugged the woman's shoulder with his hand, his left hand. A pose that truly reflects protective attitudes. Pose seemed to say that he would protect the woman no matter what. The pose not only said, but also shouted that he would protect her because she was his woman.

And that man is Harris.

Fani was standing next to him holding the cake with one hand, her other hand slipping at Harris's waist, hugging the man back. Fani's expression was unmistakably cheering her happiness to be with the person she wanted on her happy day. Fani smiled super duper wide so she revealed a row of clean front teeth.

Fani and Harris stood side by side, hugging each other back, smiling so widely. They were not aware that anyone was shaking, grimacing to hold his heart broken when he saw the photo uploaded a few weeks ago from behind the scenes.

I suddenly reached the cell phone lying in the middle of my cross legs. Immediately I typed a message in the chat room that was at the top of the list because the chat from Harris was deliberately pinned.

Me: I want to see you

Me: now!

....

I shook my head quickly, trying to drive the scene out of memory.

Never mind, dear Kayra. You must be sincere. Yea? If God brings you to this situation, He will lead you through it. Patience.

Many times I muttered these motivational words to myself. I must be sincere, I believe God is preparing the best for me in front. I just have to be patient with the pain that exists right now.

****

“Kaaaaay, spit here! I want to take togaaaa. Long time, anyway, shower!” Mimi shouted from behind the bathroom door that was located inside my room.

Heh? Since when was he in there? Didn't I lock the door, did I? Or ... not? If the door is locked, why would that Mimi get in with her eyes? Oh, aye. He has the keys to this room too. I forgot to give him that little thing if he had to take something away when I wasn't here. "Yeah yeah, just a moment, really, really noisy. It was my turn to wait for no one to go berserk. Why else would you bother, anyway? Who wants to graduate, I. Which does not get toga if it is late to get there, right, I. Why is that hysterical Elo?" I screamed back while continuing my bathing ritual. The ritual is indeed long and the process is too sacred so it cannot be contested.

"Where is the story, Dodol! You pay, you will get it, you can! Partly the heart of the campus if you do not want to give me who you have paid for yourself." Mimi returned excitedly.

I could only shake my head and choose to give up. There was no point in arguing with Mimi whose head was made of that stone.

To be continued ....