I hated it, that's what I always kept in my heart for most of our time together. Despite marrying her, I never really gave up my heart to her. Getting married by my parents made me hate my own husband. Even though I got married, I never showed my hate. Although I hated her, every day I served her as much as my wife did. I had to do everything because I didn't have another handle. Several times there was a desire to leave him but I did not have the financial ability and support of anyone. 

Both my parents loved my husband very much because they thought I was the perfect husband for their only daughter. When I got married, I became a very spoiled wife. I do everything I want. My husband also spoiled me in such a way. I never really did my job as a wife. I always depended on him because I thought it should have been after what he did to me. I have given my life to him so that it is his duty to make me happy by obeying all my wishes. In our house, I am the queen. No one dared to fight back. If there's a little problem, I always blame my husband. I didn't like his wet towels placed on the bed, I was resentful to see him put the leftover spoon stirring milk on the table and leave sticky marks, I hated it when he used my computer even just to get the job done. I'm angry that he hangs his shirt on the hood of my shirt, I'm also angry that he wears toothpaste without squeezing it neatly, I'm angry that he calls me so many times when I'm having fun with my friends. I chose not to have children. It doesn't work, but I don't want to take care of the kids. At first he was supportive and I was in kb with pills. But apparently he hid his wishes so deeply that one day I forgot to take the pill and even though he knew he let it go. I became pregnant and only realized it after more than four months, the doctors refused to abort her. That's my biggest anger at him. The anger grew when I was pregnant with a pair of twins and had to have a difficult birth. I forced her to have a vasectomy so I wouldn't get pregnant again. He obediently did all I wanted because I threatened to leave him with our two children.

Time passes until the children do not feel the eighth birthday. Like the morning before, I woke up last. My husband and kids were waiting for me at the dinner table. As usual, he was the one who provided breakfast and took the children to school. That day, he reminded me that there was a birthday. I just replied with a nod regardless of his words reminiscent of the events of the previous year, when I chose to go to the mall and was not present at the mother's event. Yes, because I feel trapped with my marriage, I also hate both my parents.

Before I go to the office, my husband kisses me on the cheek and the kids follow him. But that day, he also hugged me so the children teased his father with a fuss. I tried to dodge and let go of his embrace. I ended up smiling with the kids. He kissed him several times at the door, as if it was hard to leave.

When they left, I decided to go to the salon. Spending time at the salon is my hobby. I arrived at my salon a few hours later. At the salon I met one of my friends as well as one I didn't like. We chatted with fun including showing off our activities. It was time for me to pay the salon bills, but how surprised I was when I realized that my wallet was left at home. Although I reached into my bag to the deepest part I didn't find it in the bag. While trying to remember what happened until my wallet could not find I called my husband and asked. "Sorry baby, yesterday Farhan asked for snack money and I didn't have any small money so I took it from your wallet. I forgot to put it back in your bag, otherwise I put it on my desk." He said softly.

Angrily, I grunted about him. I picked up the phone without waiting for him to finish talking. Shortly thereafter, my phone rang again and although still upset, I picked it up half-snapping. "What else? ?"

"Honey, I'm coming home now, I'm going to grab a wallet and drop it off to you. Where is it now?" asked my husband quickly, worried that I was hanging up again. I mentioned the name of my salon and without waiting for the answer again, I hung up again. I talked to the cashier and told me that my husband would come pay my bills. The owner of salon whose best friend actually allowed me to go and said I could pay for it later if I came back. But the shame that my "enemy" also heard that I missed my wallet made me proud to go into debt first.

It rained when I looked out and hoped my husband's car would arrive soon. Minutes passed into hours, I became increasingly impatient so started calling my husband's phone. There was no answer even though I had repeated calls. I usually only ring twice when my phone has been picked up. I started to feel bad and angry.

My phone was picked up after a few attempts. When my voice didn't come out yet, a foreign voice answered my husband's phone. I was silent for a moment before the foreign man's voice introduced himself, "Good afternoon, mother. Is it the mother of armandi's father?" he asked the question immediately. The stranger turned out to be a policeman, he told me that my husband had an accident and he is currently being taken to a police hospital. At that moment I just fell silent and just said thank you. When the phone closed, I crouched down in confusion. My hand tightly grasped the phone I was holding and some salon employees approached me swiftly asking what was wrong until my face turned as pale as paper.

Somehow I finally got to the hospital. Somehow also knew the whole family was there following me. I'm the only one who's silent a thousand languages waiting for my husband in front of the emergency room. I don't know what to do because he's been the one who did everything for me. When finally after waiting a few hours, just when the germdang adhan maghrib heard a doctor came out and delivered the news. My husband is gone. It wasn't the accident itself, it was the stroke that led to his death. After hearing that fact, I was busy strengthening both my parents and their shocked parents. There were no tears in my eyes. I was busy calming my mother and father-in-law. The devastated children hugged me tightly but their grief was completely unable to make me cry.

When the body was brought home and I sat in front of him, I was looked at that face. I realized it was only this time that I was really looking at his face that seemed to be fast asleep. I approached his face and I was closely watched. That's when my chest became tight-chested remembering what he had given me during our ten years together. I touched slowly his cold face and I realized this was the first time I touched his face which was always decorated with a warm smile. Tears welled up in my eyes, obscuring my eyes. I gasped trying to wipe so that tears wouldn't get in the way of my last look at her, I wanted to remember all parts of her face so that the sweet memories of my husband didn't just end. But instead of stopping, my tears flooded both my cheeks. The warning from the mosque priest who arranged the funeral procession was unable to make me stop crying. I tried to hold him back, but my chest was tight considering what I had done to him the last time we spoke.

I remember how much I never paid attention to his health. I almost never manage to eat it. He always rules what I want. She pays attention to vitamins and drugs that I must consume, especially when pregnant and after childbirth. He never misses reminding me to eat regularly, even sometimes feed me if I am lazy to eat. I never knew what he was eating because I never asked. I don't even know what he likes and doesn't like. Almost the whole family knows that my husband is a fan of instant noodles and condensed coffee. My chest was tight hearing it, because I knew he might be forced to eat instant noodles because I almost never cooked for him. I only cook for the kids and myself. I don't care if he's eaten or not when he gets home from work. He can eat my food only if it's delicious. He comes home late at night every day because he's far from the office. I never wanted to respond to his request to move closer to his office because I didn't want to be far away from where my friends lived.

At the funeral, I couldn't help myself anymore. I fainted when I saw his body disappearing along with the hoarding ground. I didn't know anything until I woke up in my big bed. I woke up with regret filling my chest cavity. My extended family persuaded me in vain because they never knew why I was so hurt to lose him.

The days I went through after his passing were not the freedom I had always wanted but I was stuck in the desire to be with him. In the early days of his disappearance, I sat looking at empty plates. My father, mother and mother-in-law persuaded me to eat. But all I remember is when my husband persuaded me to eat that I was tearing first. When I forgot to bring a towel in the shower, I shouted out to call her as usual and when instead my mother came, I crouched crying in the bathroom hoping she would come. My habit of calling him whenever I couldn't do something at home, left his coworker confused about answering my phone. Every night I wait for her in the bedroom and hope that tomorrow morning I wake up with her figure next to me.

I used to be so upset when I slept to hear his snoring, but now I even often wake up because I miss hearing it again. I used to get upset because he was often messy in our bedroom, but now I feel like our bedroom feels empty and empty. I used to be so upset if he did a job and left it on my laptop without logging out, now I look at the computer, rubbing his levers hoping his fingers are still left there. I used to dislike him making coffee without a plate on the table, now his ex left at his last breakfast didn't want me to erase. The television remote he used to hide, now I easily found although I wished I could replace the loss with the loss of the remote. All that stupidity I did because I just realized that he loved me and I had already been hit by his arrow of love.

I was also angry at myself, I was angry because everything seemed normal even though he was gone. I was angry because his clothes were still there leaving a smell that made me miss. I was angry that I couldn't stop all my regrets. I was angry because no one else persuaded me to calm down, no one reminded me to pray even though I now do it sincerely. I prayed because I wanted to apologize, apologized to Allah for wasting the husband who was awarded to me, asking for forgiveness for being such a bad wife to such a perfect husband. It is the prayer that can remove my sorrow little by little. God's love for me was shown by so much attention from the family for me and the children. My friends, whom I've been together, almost never showed me their noses after my husband's passing.

Forty days after his death, the family reminded me to rise from the slump. There were two children waiting for me and I had to live. Back the confusion permeated me. I knew it was all along and never worked. Everything my husband did. How much income I have never cared about, all I care about is the amount of rupiah he transfers to my account for personal use and every month the money is almost never used. From the office where I worked, I earned my last salary along with his bonus compensation. When I saw it I was silent, it turned out that all his salary was transferred to my account during this time. I never used it for domestic purposes. Out of nowhere he got other money to meet the needs of the household because I never asked even about it. All I know now is that I have to work or my children won't be able to live because the last amount of salary and bonus compensation won't be enough to support the three of us. But where does it work? I almost never had any experience at all. Everything is always arranged by him.

My confusion was answered some time later. My father came with a notary. He carries a lot of documents. Then the notary gave a letter. The husband's affidavit that he bequeathed all his wealth to me and the children, he accompanied his mother in the letter but what made me unable to say anything was the contents of his letter to me.

My dear wife Liliana,

"Sorry for having to leave you first, baby. Sorry for having to make you responsible for taking care of everything yourself. I'm sorry that I can't give you love and affection anymore. God gave me too little time to love you and the kids were the best thing I've ever done for you. If I could, I'd like to be with you forever. But I don't want you to just lose my love. I've been saving little by little for your lives. I don't want to be hard after I leave. There's not much I can give but I hope I can use it to raise and educate children. Do what's best for them, baby. Don't cry, my spoiled dear. Do many things to make your life wasted all this time. I give you the freedom to realize dreams that you haven't had time to do all this time. Forgive me if I trouble you and may God give you a better soul mate than me. To Farah, my beloved daughter. I'm sorry that I can't stand you. Be a good wife like Mom and Farhan, my patron knight. Take care of Mom and Farah. Don't be a recalcitrant kid anymore and always remember wherever you are, I'll be there to see him. Okay, Buddy!"

I sobbed reading the letter, there was a cartoon with glasses that was tongue-in-cheek with my husband sticking out when he sent me a note.

Notary told me that during this time my husband had some insurance and savings deposits from the inheritance of his biological father. My husband made several efforts from the proceeds of these savings deposits and the effort was quite successful even though it was managed by his confidants. I could only cry tears to the heart of knowing how much he loved us, so that when death picked him up he still flooded us with love.

I never thought about getting married again. The number of men present was unable to erase his figure that was still so alive in my heart. Day after day I only give it to my children. When my parents and my in-laws left one by one leaving me forever, none left as deep sadness as my husband left.

My two daughters are now twenty-three years old. In two days my daughter married a young man from the other side of the land. Our daughter asked, "Mom, I have to do it later after becoming a wife, because Farah can't cook, can't wash, how about mom?"

I embraced her and said, "Love, love your husband, love your heart's choice, love what he has and you will get everything. Because of love, you will learn to please him, will learn to accept his shortcomings, will learn that no matter how big a problem, you will solve it in the name of love."

My daughter looked at me, "Like mom's love for dad? Is that love what keeps you true to your father until now?"

I shook my head, "No, my dear. Love your husband as father loved mother, as father loved you both. Mother is loyal to father because of the great love of father to mother and both of you."

I might not be lucky because I didn't get to show my love to my husband. I spent ten years hating him, but spent most of the rest of my life loving him. I was free from him by death, but I could never be free from his love that was so sincere.