Following the direction of that gaze, Zaidan's heart instantly sank. “Zahwa.” He kept the name to himself. He didn't want his Bro to know that this was the girl who had wounded his heart by rejecting him.
Drawing a deep breath, Zaidan gently admonished him. “Do you know that girl, Bro? Careful, don't stare too long. That's zina of the eyes, you know.”
“Astaghfirullah!!!” Fathan rubbed his face, startled.
“Fine, then. Let's eat in the kitchen instead,” Fathan suggested, taking Zaidan inside.
“Who is she, Bro? You looked completely transfixed,” Zaidan asked, his heart churning with curiosity.
“I'll tell you later. Wait over there, okay?” He pointed to a table in the corner. “I need to make wudu first.”
Zaidan chuckled softly. Fathan, usually so composed, was now clearly flustered.
After performing wudu, Fathan prepared a meal for the two of them. Busy amid the clinking of cooking utensils, he lost track of both time and hunger.
Between bites, Fathan told him about meeting Zahwa. About how he had chosen to avoid her when she was about to approach him.
“You like her, Bro? Just propose to her,” Zaidan said as he stirred his rice.
“She already has a ring on her finger, Zaidan. Besides, even if she were still single, I wouldn't dare make a move.”
“Why not?”
“She isn't an ordinary girl. She's incredibly beautiful. I'm afraid too many people would be eyeing her.”
“But what if she's really your soul mate?”
“If Allah is the One who decides, who are we to refuse? But for now, I'm only admiring her. I haven't reached the point of wanting to make her mine.”
Zaidan fell silent. A small storm raged in his chest. He wanted so badly to tell Fathan that Zahwa was the very same girl.
But before he could say a word, a staff member arrived carrying an order memo.
“Bro, I have to get back to work. Finish your food first.”
“Hmm,” Zaidan replied.
Ever since that second encounter, Zahwa's image had never faded from Fathan's memory. There was a feeling that had yet to be named. Still, he chose to keep it buried, afraid that Zaidan might tell Kyai Rahmatullah. Without his blessing, a marriage proposal might be sent over immediately.
And what about Zaidan? An old wound had torn open again. In the same village, they had once lived apart without ever meeting. Now fate had brought them together again in a distant place. Was that fair? His heart grew restless once more, and the feeling he had buried began to take root again.
Without Zahwa knowing, the two young men were being swept up in a storm inside their chests because of her. And without Zahwa knowing, one of them had already resolved to find out who she was—and who owned the ring on her ring finger.
The sky began shedding tears again. On that wet morning, Zahwa stood dazed by the roadside. Finding a vehicle was difficult. Even though she had once been startled by the wandering hands of pickpockets, she still chose to take the bus to her shop.
Raihan usually drove her there faithfully, especially when her motorcycle was acting up. But this time, she couldn't bring herself to trouble him. Raihan had a fever, and his body was weak. Without saying goodbye, Zahwa took shelter in front of a shop-house that was still closed, waiting for the rain to let up.
“You're coming down so hard this early,” she whispered to the raindrops.
Time passed. Anxiety gnawed at her. Then a young man appeared, sheltering beneath a large umbrella big enough for two.
“That umbrella is big enough for both of us. If we walk to the bus stop together, we won't get wet,” Zahwa thought.
After a while, the young man spoke. “The rain's really sticking around, huh?”
Zahwa nodded. “Yeah. It feels like time is going by so fast.”
“Are you in a hurry?” he asked, perceptive.
“Yeah. The bus is coming to the stop soon.”
“Just take this umbrella. Hurry to the bus stop, or you'll be late.”
“If I take it, what will you do?”
“I have plenty of time. Take it.”
Zahwa accepted it hesitantly. “What if we go to the bus stop together? You can wait there.”
The young man slowly shook his head. “I’m not going there.”
“Oh... Fine, then. I'll borrow it for now, okay?”
“Just take it.”
Zahwa glanced at the time again. “What’s your name?”
“The rain looks like it's going to get heavier. Go on,” he replied, avoiding giving his name.
So Zahwa set off, carrying the borrowed umbrella.
When Zahwa's figure had moved away, the young man let out a sigh. Removing his mask, Zaidan whispered to the universe, “Oh Allah... what does it mean that You made us meet this morning?”
He ran through the rain toward his car. He had been on his way to the office, but the universe had held him here, giving him the chance to protect Zahwa in the simplest way possible... with an umbrella.