A girl hurried toward the boutique where she worked. Today was Sunday, but her employer had asked her to come in right away. Her name was Aishla Hafeeza, a girl who was orphaned and alone in the city of Jakarta.
After graduating from high school, she began working at a boutique on the recommendation of her neighbor. Aishla was the only female employee who wore a hijab. She was grateful that all her coworkers had accepted her and never made an issue of her different style of dress. Especially Mrs. Anatasya, the owner of the boutique, who had enthusiastically welcomed her arrival. It could be said that Anatasya cared deeply for Aishla. The girl was the youngest person who worked for her. Aishla was only twenty years old and had already worked there for two years.
Aishla stepped into the boutique. She went straight to the office of the woman she regarded as a mother, just like the other employees did. They all considered Anatasya their second mother.
“Assalamu'alaikum, Ma'am...” Aishla said as she opened the door. She smiled and walked over to Anatasya, then kissed the back of her hand.
Anatasya smiled faintly, pleased that her employee had been willing to come in on her day off. On Sundays, she was the only one who kept watch at the boutique. All the employees had the day off.
“Wa'alaikumussalam. Come sit here, La.”
Aishla sat down beside her employer. She held back a twitch at the corner of her lips. Whenever she sat close to Anatasya, she always felt at ease.
Both of Aishla's parents had passed away. Her father died while she was in middle school, and her mother followed him three years later. That left Aishla to struggle on her own to earn a living and make ends meet.
Aishla had never complained about the fate God had given her. Instead, she was grateful that good people still surrounded her.
“I want you to be a model,” Anatasya requested, making Aishla's eyes widen.
She was so shocked that she actually stood up. The girl swallowed hard. She had never been comfortable in front of a camera in her entire life. Every time she had her picture taken, Aishla would freeze up. And now Anatasya was asking her to become a model?
Without realizing it, Aishla shook her head. She truly couldn't accept it.
“You wear a hijab. I want to start selling modest Muslim women's clothing at the boutique too, La. It seems like more and more people are wearing hijabs these days,” Anatasya coaxed, trying to persuade her.
Aishla lowered her head. She realized that many women had indeed begun wearing hijabs. However, they weren't doing it to fulfill their duty as Muslim women, but to follow the current trend. They wore hijabs without letting them drape down. Quite often, they tied them around their necks or styled them in ways that exposed the breasts they were supposed to cover.
“I'm sorry, Ma'am, but Aishla can't. I always freeze up in front of a camera.”
Anatasya burst out laughing. She knew that because she had never once seen Aishla take a selfie during the two years they had worked together as employer and employee. Anatasya reached out and wrapped an arm around the shoulders of the girl she regarded as her own daughter. She gazed intently at Aishla's face with a smile, then nodded, trying to convince her that she could do it as long as she was willing to try.
“You can definitely do it. I'll tell you how to pose,” Anatasya coaxed, leaving the girl unable to refuse any longer.
Aishla was sure that if any of the other employees had been chosen, they would have refused. Sometimes, her friends also asked her questions. They often wondered whether she felt overheated wearing clothes that covered her from head to toe. Aishla always answered by shaking her head.
“Who will be taking Aishla's pictures, Ma'am?” Aishla asked, slightly curious.
“Arsyan,” Anatasya replied, making Aishla freeze.
Arsyan was Anatasya's eldest son. He was a widower with one child. Aishla had never met him even once. She often heard about Arsyan from Anatasya whenever the woman was upset with her son. She always vented at the boutique, and Aishla became her listener.
“A-Arsyan?”
Anatasya nodded firmly, then handed her several abayas that matched her hijab. With no choice but to accept them, Aishla hurried off to change. She smiled when she saw a pink abaya that looked perfect against her fair skin.
A pair of eyes stared without blinking as Aishla emerged from the dressing room. The woman let out an excited squeal and pulled Aishla toward the vanity. She was going to perfect her favorite employee's appearance.
“What are you going to do?” Aishla asked, eyeing her employer warily.
“I'm going to put makeup on your face, La. So you don't look so plain,” Anatasya replied as she prepared her makeup supplies.
In the end, Aishla gave in. She rarely wore makeup. In fact, she barely owned any, let alone used it. She only used facial cleanser and baby powder because she didn't know which beauty products suited her skin.
“Ma'am, don't overdo it, okay?”
“I won't, La. Don't worry. I'll just put a little on your face to make you even prettier.” Anatasya giggled. She was sure her son would fall for Aishla. Aishla was perfect—the kind of girl every man dreamed of. She was devout, kind, and, not to be forgotten, she wore a hijab.
Aishla clutched her chest as her heart suddenly began pounding. She felt nervous about meeting her employer's eldest son. Rumors among the employees claimed that Arsyan was a cold man who never smiled. His face was always expressionless, and his gaze was incredibly sharp. Aishla had never imagined she would meet a man like that. She was afraid she might make a mistake. Who knew what Arsyan would do to her?
The sound of the door opening made Aishla jump. She swallowed hard when a dark-eyed man and a young woman appeared behind the door.
There was no warmth on the man's face. He showed nothing but a cold stare and an impassive expression.
Aishla clenched the edge of her hijab when his sharp gaze swept over her. However, it didn't last long because the young woman beside him greeted Anatasya.
“Hi, Auntie.”
“Alisya? You came too?” Anatasya asked, though she hadn't actually wanted Alisya to be there. Despite that, Arsyan had chosen the woman as his prospective wife and stepmother to his son, Arrayyan Rasya Arkatama.
“Yeah, Auntie. Arsyan was the one who invited me,” Alisya replied, glancing at her boyfriend.
“Arsyan can't stay long,” Arsyan interjected, making Aishla lift her head.
The girl narrowed her eyes. She couldn't believe she was meeting such a heartless man. Couldn't Arsyan make small talk or greet his mother first? To be honest, Aishla wasn't ready for the photo shoot.
“Don't rush, honey. We just got here,” Alisya teased as she clung sweetly to the arm of her boyfriend—and boss. She worked as Arsyan's secretary at the company owned by the Arkatama family.
Arsyan sighed. He sat down on a single sofa, making his girlfriend cheer inwardly. Alisya could always tame the widower with one child. The young woman planned to take the opportunity to bring mother and son closer. Arsyan was so busy that he rarely made time for his mother and son.
However, her good intentions were obvious to her prospective mother-in-law. Anatasya, unwilling to get involved in a conversation with the couple, immediately took Aishla somewhere else, using the excuse that she wanted to teach her how to pose in front of the camera so she wouldn't look too stiff.
Alisya pouted. She had no right to stop them from leaving. She also realized that Anatasya disliked her. But she didn't care. As long as Arsyan still loved her, she was certain she would win Anatasya's blessing.
“Where are you taking me, Ma'am?” Aishla asked, trying to match her employer's pace.
“Shh, just keep quiet. I can't stand Alisya. I wanted you to marry Arsyan. Not his secretary!”
Ahem!
Aishla choked on her own saliva. She hadn't misheard, had she? Anatasya wanted her to marry Arsyan, the cold man who never smiled?
Aishla didn't like men like him, especially not men who were widowers. She wanted a husband who was still single and would love her. That was the only dream Aishla had.
Twenty minutes later, the photo shoot began. Aishla twisted her fingers as she and Arsyan stood in a straight line. Her hands were clammy with sweat. She felt incredibly nervous. The aura radiating from the man's body was so intimidating that she didn't dare raise her face. Anatasya quickly came over and whispered something that restored Aishla's confidence.
Just as Aishla looked up, Arsyan held his breath. He had never seen a girl as cute as she was. Perhaps that was because he rarely visited the family boutique, being too busy dating his girlfriend.
They spent an hour taking pictures. The navy abaya Aishla wore was the last outfit. She gave it her all so the photo shoot would end soon.
Aishla smiled at the camera. Arsyan crouched as he tried to get the perfect shot. However, his focus was interrupted when someone wrapped her arms around his neck. Arsyan turned and gave his girlfriend's lips a quick kiss.
Aishla's eyes flew wide. “Astaghfirullah!” she cried, covering both eyes with her palms. “Forgive me, Allah. My eyes have been stained...”