The After The Rain
Not the End

As long as he knew each other, Kinara had never seen Sekala so fragile as it was now. The man's usual smile for everyone is now gone somewhere, leaving a trail of pain that apparently the man had been able to keep alone.

The night had gone up, and even time seemed to spin much faster than before. However, Kinara did not mind at all when Sekala was still determined to stay, sitting beside the grave of the birth mother while repeatedly wiping away the falling tears.

They originally came here to ask for blessing, after previously visiting the venue where their wedding reception will be held counting days. However, the agenda soon turned into a place to vent tears when Sekala could no longer stem the longing for the mother, and Kinara had no right to forbid it.

Kinara knows, life wins about losing. People came back and forth, as he had felt until now. But again, he has never been separated from his loved ones by death. So when once again he was faced with the sight of someone sobbing for long-suffering loved ones crouching under a mound of dirt, there was not much he could do to show sympathy.

Just as when she accompanied Atha on a pilgrimage to her mother's meal first, Kinara also let Sekala roll with longing that restrained her heart. Sometimes he would put a swab on the man's back, then he let the tears of Sekala fall without even thinking of him to tell Sekala to stop crying.

"Mother of the good," the voice of Sekala went on the air, hovering with a strange gust of night wind did not bother Kinara at all even though he was now only wearing short-sleeved shirts and training pants that were not as thick.

"But no matter how good Mother is to me, she still cannot replace Mother."

I knew. Kinara wanted to say that. But what happened in the end was that he only remained mute, while reaching for Sekala's hand to hold her tightly like the last piece of favorite Regal biscuits that he wanted to keep with all his heart.

"And it makes me feel guilty" Sekala said. The man's gaze was now fixed straight on the gravestone bearing the mother's name. "When Mother had given up many things to be able to care for me, but what I always see every time my eyes meet with her is still the shadow of Mother's face. It doesn't seem to be fair to me."

"Everyone has a place in our lives, Mom. That's what I know." Kinara said after being silent for quite a while just being a listener.

Upon turning his head, their gazes met and all Kinara could find out from the dark bead was an overly mixed feeling, making it difficult for him to describe one by one.

As if it looked chaotic, that was what was seen in Kinara's eyes. But the chaos was not enough to undo Kinara's intention of bringing Sekala's hand deeper into his grasp. No longer with one hand, Kinara used both hands to encapsulate the man's hand, as if wanting to protect him from any evil thing in the world that could hurt Sekala.

"I won't say that I know what Mas Kala feels, because the truth is, I don't know. I was never in that position, lying if I said I could understand Mas Kala's feelings well."

The warmth from the hand spread quickly. Plucking up the remnants of anxiety and sadness that are still circling around Sekala, making the man can breathe a little relieved and no longer break down tears.

Her lips were still clenched, but her ears were clearly wider open to listen to whatever beautiful thing was about to come out of Kinara's lips next. Because he believes, the beautiful girl his future wife always has a stock of vocabulary that sometimes makes him forget, that Kinara is just a girl in her early twenties who is still ripe, but still, it is too blind to know that the world can go on as cruel as it is for the unlucky.

"But once again, which I know, people come and go. And when the time comes for some to leave, others will come. Not to fill the empty space left behind, but to fill another place, which we previously did not realize that it was empty from the beginning." Along with airing the sentence, one hand of Kinara left his grasp, and then he poured into Sekala's cheek to wipe the trail of tears that were clearly printed there.

"Mother and Mommy are two different figures, who are both dear Mas Kala and have their own place in the heart of Mas Kala," said Kinara. The trail of tears on Sekala's cheeks was all he could see, but the sadness was still emanating clearly from the two dark beads of the man.

"Until any time, Mother and Mother will still be in her place. So, you don't have to feel guilty. Mas Kala just had to spend more time to visit the place of the Mother, so that each side in Mas Kala accustomed to recognize that the place of the Mother and the place of the Mother is different." A single smile was carved, so beautiful, and Kinara probably wouldn't know it.

Only Sekala. Only Sekala could see how beautiful that smile was, and she swore she would not let anything snatch it away.

"If you are afraid, Mas Kala can take me. Kan, after getting married later, I will have more time to be near the Kala mas." And even though the sentence ended with the typical mild nudity of a Kinara Adorelia, the sincerity in it still felt. So concentrated. So sticky. So that what Sekala can do next is bring the small body into his arms, without cue.

This was not the first time Sekala had held her since officially proposing to her a few weeks ago, but the sudden movement still caused a commotion in her chest, which was caused by a sudden heart rate craze.

"Thank you, yeah, Kin." Sekala said, with his chin leaning against Kinara's head. From that posture, he did not seem to want to let Kinara out of his embrace. Which is arguably not how tight because he still wants to give space so that Kinara can breathe freely.

He said, we must be useful human beings for others. Then many people become dizzy thinking about how useful, to the point of forgetting that small things can actually be said as an aid.

Like a hug. Like a line of encouragement said to those in need. Like just being silent, not to make the atmosphere become more runnyam.

Together with Sekala, Kinara learned more things. Now it's not just about giving, but also about being useful, in the simplest way.

...****************...

A heavy swinging step finally brought Sagara to a stop just a few meters from the stepmother's navel. In his hand rested a bouquet of Lily flowers, white, as white as the memory in his head if it relates to the mother of Sekala.

When her father confessed to remarrying, everything was over. The figure of the woman who Sekala called Mother was no longer in the world, and Sagara never had a chance to get acquainted. To simply curse because the woman has been present in the midst of Father and Mother, or thank you for at least having been willing to leave Sekala in the world to be taken care of by Father and Mother.

If asked about feelings for Sekala's mother, Sagara will answer not to know. Because the only person who received so much anger and disappointment from him was Dad. Because he believed, everything would not have started if Dad had not opened the way.

In the past, when he was just entering his early twenties, Sagara liked to secretly go to the tomb of Sekala's mother, Sekala, to leave a bouquet of Lily flowers on top of the tomb then blur after sitting still for hours without saying anything. He did so as a form of guilt, whenever he failed to take care of Sekala, or when he was released and abusive to the boy.

It may take a lifetime to get Sagara to put his ego aside and begin to show his affection for Sekala openly. Because even though their relationship is no longer tenuous, he is still reluctant to sweeten honey on the child.

So, when his eyes now capture the existence of Sekala with his future wife in front of him, Sagara decided to hide behind a large Cambodian tree that thrives in the entrance area of the cemetery.

The distance is not too far away, so Sagara can hear the roaring Sekala roaring mourn the departure of the mother. Or perhaps, the child was lamenting his unlucky fate of being left for dead, and left to grow up with an incompetent older brother like himself.

Tightness reached Sagara's chest so quickly when it was no longer the sobs he heard, but the words that honestly were no longer surprising to him to find out from the lips of Sekala.

Something about how the kid always feels guilty, for a lot of things.

In fact, the universe also knows that Sekala is not wrong. Every birth and death that takes place in the world is certain by the will of Almighty God. And if any of us dare to blame the birth of another, it is the same as blaming the will of God. It was a sin, according to Sagara's knowledge.

Sagara is just an ordinary man, so he doesn't have enough courage to blame God for what has happened in his life. But his ego as a human has encouraged Sagara to do things that ultimately make him blame the birth of Sekala, and he regrets it.

However, the hole Sagara dug was already too deep, he was mired far enough and the exit was too difficult to reach. So all Sagara can do now is just enjoy his regrets, permeate it little by little until maybe later the regrets that will bring him back to the lap of God.

He has lost a lot of things in an effort to get rid of the hatred that I don't know of who should be aired. Astari and Sekala were only a small part, and she had nothing left in her life but Mother.

"Sorry, Brother." Sluggishly. Then, she placed the bouquet on the ground, just as one yellowish Cambodian flower petal fell onto the bouquet she left behind.

Along with his body that turned and then his legs swung slowly, drizzling down thinly, helping him to shed the remaining anger and disappointment that existed, eliminating it for then he considered it never existed.

Seriate