#Arranged Marriage Two Weeks Earlier, The patter of rain seemed to soothe the harsh midday heat. The cold air began to seep into the body. The distinct scent of freshly drenched earth rose and stung the nose. It was only natural—Java had gone a long time without rain. A middle-aged woman in a long dress looked anxious as she waited for her son to come home. Again and again, her aging eyes glanced toward the main road, hoping her child would return soon.
“Relax, Umi. He’ll probably be home any minute,” said the middle-aged man as he sipped his hot tea.
“I’m worried, Abah. A prospective bride or groom shouldn’t be wandering around. It’s bad luck!”
“What era are you living in, Umi? No kid these days believes in bad luck.”
The roar of a car broke through the patter of rain. A tall young man stepped out of the vehicle. He was lean and towering, with gentle eyes and an extraordinarily handsome face. His skin was the warm brown of chestnuts, and his black eyelashes were neatly arranged. His hair, wet from the rain, only made his handsome features stand out even more.
“Where have you been, Fiq? Your Umi was worried,” said the middle-aged man, who was none other than Alfiq’s father, Yusril.
“Assalamu alaikum, Umi, Abah,” Alfiq greeted them, shaking both his parents’ hands in turn.
“Wa alaikumussalam. You’re getting married, son. Stop wandering around all the time!” Salma protested at her stubborn son.
“Who says I’m getting married?”
“Alfiq!” Yusril shouted, raising his voice.
“Am I wrong? How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want to be matched for marriage.” Alfiq let out an exasperated sigh. He was tired.
The middle-aged woman, whose face had initially been anxious, now looked dejected. She was the one most enthusiastic about matching her son for marriage with the Quran teacher she often met at the mosque. The simple, unpretentious girl who always behaved politely had captured Salma’s heart, and she wanted the girl as her daughter-in-law.
“She’s a good, respectable girl, Fiq. Umi is sure you’ll like her.”
“Ah, who knows? Whatever. I’m not doing ta’aruf,” Alfiq replied emphatically before walking away, leaving Umi and Abah in the living room.
Meanwhile, in a small, minimalist house, a twenty-year-old girl was straightening several pieces of clothing. She patted her slender cheek once, feeling as though she were still dreaming. She still couldn’t believe a man had proposed to her. Their wedding would take place in just a few days. Inaya held a hand to her chest, which for some reason was pounding. A smile bloomed on her pink lips. She couldn’t wait to meet her future husband, whom she had never met before. According to the rumors she had heard, Alfiq was an incredibly handsome man.
“You’re daydreaming again, sweetheart!”
“What, Mom? Hehe.” Inaya giggled, realizing that for some reason she had become giddy with romantic excitement.
“I feel like going with you to your husband’s house, sweetheart,” said Inaya’s mother, Sari.
“Come with me, Mom and Dad!”
“You can’t do that, sweetheart,” her father, Rudi, interjected.
“I’ll try talking to Umi later.”
“Hmm, but if she says no, don’t force it, sweetheart, okay?”
“Got it, Dad!”
*** Inaya never tired of watching the elementary-school-aged children run around, joke, and play. Her brown eyes followed the movements of her students, who looked bright and carefree.
The sound of a motorcycle drew Inaya’s attention away. She furrowed her brow. She had never seen that tall teacher before. Judging from the man’s fashionable appearance, it seemed impossible that he was a teacher like her. Who was he?