Almahyras
Section 42

Around one in the morning Alma woke up. He saw Jafar still beside him, but this time the position of the man changed to face him. He calmly looked at Jafar's shady face while sleeping like this. There was a bit of tightness in the chest, because the apology and the hug last night did not get any reaction from Jafar.

But at least Alma was grateful, Jafar did not refuse the hug.

She sighed softly, having already looked at her husband. The thirst and stomach that constantly rebelled disturbed his calmness in looking. When he was about to stand up, Alma had been sure not to make a rough move but it turned out that suddenly his soft hand was held by Jafar-who somehow since when, he did not realize waking up.

"You're waking up, Mom? My ma-affin, my Mas."

Jafar shook his head, following Alma to stand up.

"Where are you going?"

Jafar just stared straight at the netra Alma. A second later he realized the intent of Jafar's gaze as if asking, Where do you want to go? Even the grip on his wrist was still not detached.

"I thirst. I-I'm going to the kitchen."

Her husband just nodded.

"Why do you want to come?"

Jafar stepped in by pulling his wife's soft hand-towards the kitchen, and he took a seat staring at Alma's every move from taking a drink to sipping water.

"You want me to take it?"

On the kitchen table was a pen and a small notebook. Jafar took it and wrote something. "You hungry?"

"Huh-huh? I-iya anyway. I'm hungry" replied Alma.

"Why don't you eat? So you've been hungry all night?" write Jafar.

Alma looked down inside. "Sa-I'm waiting for you. How can I eat? You-if you're angry with me."

I heard a slow breath from Jafar. He put pen and notebook on the table, then stood-up removing spices, mustard greens as well as eggs from the refrigerator and in the afterthought taking the rice. After cutting up red onions, garlic, and also green mustard. Jafar turned on the stove and cooked a serving of fried rice.

"Eat."

The movement of Jafar's lips was read by Alma, as the fried rice was placed on the table next to the pen and notebook.

"Thank you, Mum."

The pen and notebook were taken by Jafar, because up to ten seconds passed his wife did not go to devour the rice just stirring. "Why not eat? No like?"

"Su-like. I like it."

The spoon was taken over by Jafar by slowly taking the rice and feeding the fried rice to Alma.

"I can eat by myself, Mas" said Alma.

Her husband remained pushy, and he could only resignedly accept the bribe. Actually he was confused, is Jafar not angry? Or what is done by Jafar is just an obligation? All questions filled his brain.

"You eat too."

Jafar shook his head and fed Alma again.

"You didn't lie to me, did you? Are you really eating?"

The spoon was put for a moment by Jafa, he took a pen and notebook, and wrote down the answer there. "I lied. I don't have a taste for food, Alma."

Netra Alma suddenly glazed over. What the fuck, Mom? What if you are sick? He took over the spoon-positioning sitting side by side with Jafar and changed to feed the fried rice received directly by the owner.

"Why don't you eat? What if you are sick? Why do you have to lie?"

Jafar looked down to write. The fried rice in his mouth was gone. "You worry about me as if you're all right."

There's a pause in that notebook. "Alma, it's not wrong, right? If I feel disappointed in you?"

Must be the problem this afternoon.

Jafar wrote again. "As a man I feel my ego is a bit hurt. Let's say that even if I'm selfish, it's okay, I really don't like what's already mine, it suddenly seems that close to a foreign man."

Alma had read, and Jafar flipped his notebook back and wrote again. "More you know, this man who married you is not that perfect."

"Maos ..."

Jafar paused again on that one page. "I've tried to get rid of all these inappropriate thoughts in my brain, Alma. Real what? Can't do. I believe in you. But this brain seems unwilling to follow my orders. All sorts of bad thoughts filled my brain, Alma. Say now how should I?"

Fried rice that a few minutes ago was still smoky has now cooled down - he put the spoon back. It was so hard to read what Jafar had written. He knew very well that Jafar was trying not to prejudge him.

"So the apology .. will not be useful, will you?" Alma mangosteen with water that has been so much in the net hug. "Write anything, Mom. Ask anything, and get out everything that makes you feel hard like this."

"You didn't forget, did you? That your principle in marriage is to be together."

Jafar nodded.

"I'll always be with you, Mom."

Three seconds later Alma smiled. "Even now you feel disappointed and reluctant to accept my apology, not pa-pa Mas. I understand that."

"But please ask me anything Mas, don't make yourself drown in the bad thoughts themselves" continued Alma.

Jafar lowered his head to write down something - which Alma could immediately read. "He touched you?"

Alma.

"In my first meeting and he. He accidentally touched my hand, Mom. Because it's taking over the broken glass" explained Alma.

I heard Jafar sigh long. Alma's hand was raised to touch and hold her husband's hand. "I want to talk to you all, Mom. But don't act as if I'm being treated badly by him, remember he's Mbok Isna's grandson. He was the one Ummi had believed in all these years."

"Dare to touch your hand alone it's been a very outrageous thing for me, Alma. And what did you say? Just because he's Mbok Isna's grandson, doesn't allow him to do bad either" Jafar wrote.

There's a pause in that notebook. "Because you will never know how men look at a woman with her eyes."

"In-he may have been unintentional, Mas. Do not be prejudiced like that" said Alma.

Jafar wrote again. "Which part of the hand did he touch?"

Netra Alma slightly widened, as if in disbelief her husband asked like that - and she slowly raised her left hand, then pointed at the back of her hand.

"This ... left hand."

Hearing Alma-Jafar's reply, he drew slowly on his left hand and rubbed gently, then peeked at the back of his wife's hand.

The touch was off. Jafar wrote again. "Don't let him touch you again, whether intentionally or not."

Alma nodded.

"Come, finish that fried rice, feed me too" Jafar wrote.

...🌺...

"You want to pray?"

Jafar nodded, before passing into the bathroom he sat on the edge of the bed-viewing digital clock showing at 01.31 WIB. He took the device and opened the note app and typed in there.

"Your body isn't finished?"

"Not yet, Mas."

Jafar nodded again and typed in an answer. "Then, please wait for me to finish praying, huh?"

"Yes, Mum."

Her husband was entering the bathroom - probably about to clean up for a moment. Then after that Jafar came out, took the wudu next to the mosque in the house. About two minutes passed Jafar back again and held a prayer in front of him. Alma looked at her husband. Again, he felt that this scene made him feel comfortable. Very calm.

A few minutes passed Jafar prayer was over. He approached Alma and the back of his hand was met with a brief kiss from Alma's lips.

"You want to sleep again?"

A thin smile was engraved on Jafar's lips suddenly.

"Why are you smiling?"

The dim sleeping lights revealed another knotty smile from Jafar who was now sitting right next to him, with pen and notebook that had just been taken.

"You smile again. Why?"

"You're beautiful. You look beautiful under these dimly lit lights" Jafar wrote.

Spontaneous Alma lowered her head. Both of his hands raised touching the left and right cheeks - he was embarrassed to get such a simple compliment.

"Udah, Mom. Come on, let's go to sleep."

Jafar took a seat leaning against the bed with pillows, as well as Alma who was about to lay down. But it was held by Jafar's hand.

"Why? You don't want to sleep?"

The notebook that did not know when it had written was shown to Alma. "I'd like to talk for a minute. It's okay, isn't it?"

"O-oh, come on. What do you want to talk about?"

"About you."

After reading that Alma nodded. "About me? What do you want to know more about me?"

"Many things I don't know about you." There's a pause in that notebook. "What were you thinking at our first meeting, Alma?"

"Meeting ... tama us?" Alma's memory wandered at her statement meeting with Jafar-which was when she sent a bushel of food to Umm Salamah every morning. "At that time .. I wonder if you also feel alien in this crowd?"

"You must be surprised. Because it's the first time you've met a mute man like me, right?" write Jafar.

Alma nodded. "Yes." Yeah."

"But what I think about is you. How is your life and everything else about you, I don't know why" continued Alma.

"You pity me, Alma," Jafar wrote.

In minimal lighting, after reading what Jafar wrote, she looked up at her husband in the shade. "As a human being isn't it, Mas? What if I feel sorry for you? There is also no harm in our fellow human beings pitying each other."

"I'm sure. There are times when you feel sorry for me or for others, right?"

Jafar nodded.

"So stop concluding as if pity is some kind of bad thing that is not worth pointing out" Alma added.

"Did you ever feel the same way as me?" write Jafar.

Alma mangosteen. "Either."

"I understand, Mom. When our hearts are in a sphere of deep sadness, there will certainly be a sense of reluctance to accept speech or gaze that only adds to suffering."

Alma decided to look down with a low look in she said softly, "For example .. with a look full of pity by others."

"Why do you talk as if your life hurts more than mine, Alma?"

The notebook was placed in Alma's lap.

"What hurts more, Mom? No."

Alma's faint smile appeared for a moment. "My life is now you, Mom. Why do you suddenly write something like this? You seem to be asserting that your life is actually a very painful one."

"Why? ..." Alma looked up again to her husband. "Is my presence in your life lacking to make the pain subside?"

Jafar refused to answer. But suddenly just close his face to Alma-a second passed, the brief kiss landed, the meeting of the two chewy objects happened again for a moment.

"Meduced."

Jafar's lip movement this time was a little difficult for Alma to read.

"What did you say?"

Jafar smiled faintly and lowered his head to take another notebook in Alma's lap, then wrote. "This pain subsides, Alma. How lucky is a man like me to be able to marry you, and to have a wife who understands her husband so well."

"I'm lucky too, Mom."

Jafar opens the next page in the notebook. Then write back. "I forgive you. But please keep your distance from Mbok Isna's grandson. Or if necessary, if suddenly he comes alone, drive him out."

"U-users?"

"Yes." Yeah." There's a pause in that notebook. A few seconds Jafar wrote again which Alma could directly read. "It is better to give an explanation to Mbok Isna and Ummi. Instead of listening to your explanation, about the man's disrespectful behavior who dares to touch something that doesn't belong to him."

"More that he touches is you. Mine," continued Jafar.