My student's my future husband?
Ep Bonus. Destiny Love (1)
The morning greeted. Jakarta City air feels hot and humid, making sweat continue to pour on the forehead of people who are not native residents of this metropolitan city. Ridho continued to sweat when he got out of the car that drove him to a large mosque in South Jakarta. The man was ready in a simple, neat dress to make a commitment and a pledge of allegiance before God to make Namira his legal wife.
Families and close relatives have been present filling the mosque without a bulkhead. Today's wedding ceremony is very simple. Just a thanksgiving after the contract, without a reception party. Because that's what the bride's request is.
Ridho, who was dressed in all black except for his shirt, continued to beat fast. He tried to regulate his breathing rhythm. His mother and father had been standing next to him, delivering him to a table in front of the mosque's pulpit. Likewise with the Pak Gunawan Family, including Ajeng and Ferdian accompanied their friends.
“How are you doing Patricia?” whispered to her husband.
“He has converted, that is the news I heard from Ustadz Ahmed last week,” Ferdian replied beside his wife's right ear.
“Alhamdulillah..duh hope he gets his best mate!” say Ajeng.
“Aamiin... Yuk sign in, event want to start!”
Ridho's face looked tense from any angle. He sat in front of the table, accompanied by his father, Mr. Yusuf, and also Mr. Gunawan and Ferdian who will witness his marriage today. While in front of him sat the father of Namira and the father of penghulu. The bride-to-be was still in the room, waiting anxiously for the event.
In one breath, Ridho answered the ijab of his future father-in-law.
“How are the witnesses? Valid?!” said pengupulu after the agreement has been completed spoken by both parties.
“Sah, legitimate!”
“Alhamdulillah.”.
Everyone prayed, hoping that the marriage between Ridho and Namira would be blessed and mercy from Allah. Everyone sweated a day. After that, Namira came out of her room. Gracefully she walked to the table and sat down beside Ridho, the man who had now become her husband. He shook the back of his hand with respect. Ridho rubbed his head while reciting the best prayer for her, for their marriage.
The event ended when the sun was crawling up to the top. Ajeng and Ferdian congratulated the newlyweds.
“Dho, congratulations to Men! Finally home from America get a soul mate!” said Ferdian hugging and patting the shoulder of his little friend.
“Nuhun ya Fer, doain we continue! You want to go directly off to Singapore?” he asked, his Sundanese accent again thickened after returning from America.
“Yes, today we take off directly. See you soon, Men! Sad I tuh, just this time we separated...” said Ferdian sound more, but serious. It is because the two friends are never far apart.
“Good there ya Fer! Moga Arsene is recovering. Add another momongan fit back here,” said Ridho chuckled.
“Haha... who's first who?” challenge Ferdian, making the two women beside them laugh along.
“Oh yes Mir, know this my wife, Ajeng!” this time Ferdian introduced his wife.
“I'm Namira,” said the white hijab woman.
“I Ajeng.. Congratulations to you both, may Allah bless your marriage,” said Ajeng smiling.
“Thanks a lot Miss Ajeng!” replied Ridho nodded.
“Woy, it has long been changed to Mrs. Ferdian huh?!” sergeant Ferdian
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A Year Later
A man wearing a black suit with a white T-shirt looks sad sitting on a gravestone deliberately made for seating. The tears that had been blocked in the cracker, made him fall down when the man blinked his eyes. His head lowered so that it dropped the crystal circle on top of a navel covered with green grass.
The morning sun that shone on him, felt warm through his black clothes. The quiet atmosphere in the cemetery. There was only that man there, placed a bouquet of flowers of various colors on top of the navel.
The narrow-eyed man rubbed a tombstone bearing the name of his lover there. His heart trembled, visible from his hardened jaw and strained neck veins. He bowed again, praying that his beloved would be placed at His best. He also offered sincere prayers for the prospective baby who was brought by his lover.
The man sobbed. His heart is still strong. It was decided, that today he would open a new leaf. That beautiful memory will never be erased, let it be stored in a strong steel chest holding it.
The light brown man stood up while rubbing his face. It's time to work and get back to the delayed dream. He must control the running of an annual event, where the company he works for becomes his sponsor.
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Patricia looked at herself in front of the mirror. Her beautiful face that she had always been proud of now looked different. He smiled with satisfaction to himself. Another aura emanated from there, ever since he decided to convert and wear the hijab. It had been months ago actually, for some reason his heart felt even more relieved today.
He pulled his suitcase along the corridor of the arrival airport in Soekarno Hatta. Black glasses are worn to dispel the morning sunlight that welcomes him. Armed with English, he and his personal assistant desperate to go to Indonesia to find inspiration and reference hijab fashion that will be worked on from now on.
The pointy-nosed woman no longer thought of anyone. He only wanted to contribute to his new religion, through the passion that lives in his soul, namely design and fashion. So visiting Indonesia is the right decision because this country has always been a mecca and trend of world Muslim fashion. Although he himself never missed the famous Muslim fashion parades that exist around the world.
A few days ago, Ajeng, who is now friendly with him, told him by phone, that there is a fashion hijab festival in Jakarta. Without a second thought, Patricia immediately booked a plane ticket and hotel in Jakarta, although she was quite sad because Ajeng and Ferdian could not accompany her because they had moved to Singapore.
Patricia was laying her body in a luxury hotel in South Jakarta, Hijab Fashion Week will be held the day after tomorrow, so it is better that she decided to rest for a full day. After all, he still experienced jet lag after traveling from London to Jakarta.
Next day.
In one of the big malls in the city of Jakarta, the event banner this year has been crowded to meet the corners of strategic places. The event was attended by many people from ordinary people until the artist will be held this afternoon. Patricia and her personal assistant are already sitting in the front seat to pay attention to every detail of Muslim fashion that will appear to be her inspiration, becoming a world-famous fashion hijab designer.
Slim models with a typical Eastern face, swaying on a vertical catwalk. They reliably show the details and accents of the clothes they wear. Starting from an elegant design, with a shiny or falling layer material. Until casual edgy, with a simple design that plays a hit of color even though it still looks cool. Patricia was amazed by the designs of Indonesian Muslim fashion designers. In fact, many of them concoct designs by playing regional distinctive patterns into their work. All of that was recorded well in his head as well as his workbook. Not felt, session by session passed. Inspiration filled the woman's mind room so that she could not wait to return to the hotel where she was staying, to pour out her idea.
With a rash step that night, he walked towards the exit of the venue, leaving his assistant still sitting on the chair.
BRUISES.
Patricia's notebook fell on the shiny floor, as did the pen she had just used. The woman looked at what was happening before her, as a man wearing a black suit took her book.
“Sorry, I accidentally,” he stood up and returned the book to him.
“Ah-eh, I’m so sorry!” he said with a broken and stiff English accent, still with his gaze down.
Suddenly, the man in front of her looked at her closely with both of his eyes. The voice and also his accent, he memorized exactly who the owner was. Patricia looked up at the man's face, and her heart exploded.
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