NIGHT BUTTERFLY
#120
Qurratul Aini shook his head weakly. He let out a long sigh while closing his eyes. Just a headband because he can't pronounce it with words. It hurts too much to hear Cristian. Cristian bowed lethargic. He hit the side of the bed several times. His head was lifted up while closing his eyes. What he had imagined since Qurratul Aini sent him a short message to meet at the Zamora restaurant turned out to be not as expected. He did not understand, the relationship that had been on the edge of the horn was still seasoned Qurratul Aini with a meeting that only added to the wound in the heart. I don't know what Qurratul Aini is thinking right now. The girl was torturing herself.
Qurratul Aini shifted his body slowly towards the middle of the bed. He then took off the shirt he was wearing and slowly lay on his back. He looked towards Cristian. Cristian's hand was held in his hand and placed it on his chest. Cristian. Seeing Qurratul Aini lying just wearing a BH, Cristian shook his head. He removed his hand from the grasp of Qurratul Aini. With tears still in his eyes, Qurratul Aini again pulled Crisrian's hand hard so that Cristian's body fell on his chest. Cristian immediately pulled his body. The tears of Qurratul Aini were rushing.
"Come, Cristian. Do whatever you want. I am yours born and inner though I am betrothed to someone else," said Qurratul Aini as he unzipped his pants. Cristian kept shaking. He held the hand of Qurratul Aini and held it to open his pants.
"No, Aini. Please, I love you not because of your body. Not because of your beauty. In this way, you really have added to the wound in my heart" Cristian said. His head was brought close to the head of Qurratul Aini, then kissed his forehead. After a while the two of them dissolved in tears, Cristian raised the head of Qurratul Aini slowly. Then he helped her lean. While running through tears, he put the shirt back on the body of Qurratul Aini. Cristian then hugged the body of Qurratul Aini. The two hugged each other tightly.
"In your light I learned how to love. In your beauty, how to make poetry. You dance inside my chest where no one sees you, but sometimes I do, and the scenery becomes this art.” Cristian swooped at Jalaluddin Rumi's words and whispered them in Qurratul Aini's ear. Qurratul Aini smiled. He held Cristian's hand.
"I'm sincere if I'm going to be Qais the Majnun. As long as you live happily, it is enough for me to heal the wounds of not being able to live with you. Go home. As you said, learn to forget each other. No more meetings like this, if you still don't dare to change your father's decision. This will only add to the wounds in our hearts." Cristian rubbing hair Qurratul Aini .
"Go home, Aini. Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. This meeting, it's more painful than a months-long separation. It's more painful than realizing that I can't have you" Cristian said, bracing herself.
Slowly he let go of the hand grip of Qurratul Aini.
Cristian got up and stepped slowly towards the door. Qurratul Aini's mouth was gaping about to say something but could not be said. His eyes seemed to prevent Cristian from leaving.
Cristian was still standing by the door staring at Qurratul Aini for a moment. It was hard to leave the girl alone in such a state of crying. But he thought, things would get worse if he had to stay there. Cristian sighing. He decided to leave.
Cristian opened the door and stepped out. Qurratul Aini could only stare resignedly with increasingly broken cries.
With a weak step, Cristian went down the stairs. He repeatedly sighed. Anxiety and sadness mixed into one. Upset because Qurratul Aini told him to go to that place just to do something that should be done when happy. Not a moment of sadness like that. She's shuffling. He never felt the burden of letting the person he loved belong to someone else. Her footsteps felt weak to move. But he ceaselessly strengthened his heart. God certainly is fair to compare meetings with parting. He must learn to understand and take wisdom.
* * * * *
The twilight hue began to fade replaced by dark which began to envelop the entire nature. The melodious groove of adzan maghrib welcomes early Friday night. Herding the long-busy day dwellers in worldly affairs for a moment remembers the Life-Giver.
The heat of the day was still there when night fell. Make sultry. Forcing Sulastri and Rianti to turn on the AC in his room.
* * * * *
Clock-by-clock ticking is heard directing the clockwork towards the late-night figure. The whole house was asleep in their sleep. Leaving Rianti who is still solemn' thoughtfully twisting grain by grain tasbih in his hand. Until the phone ringing sound stops its activity.
Rianti got up and stepped slowly towards the table beside the bed. Sulastri's snoring sound rang out breaking the silence of the room. His face was so peaceful enjoying his night's sleep.
Rianti grabbed the hp on the table. A message in Whatsup opens. Message from Fahmy. Rianti smiled.
"Sister, this is Master Teacher's practice. Do every prayer, right?
No need for my sister to ask me about the benefits. Every Asma of God must have its own secrets.
يالطيف (× 100)
additional from Master Teacher;
فان عزمت فتوكل على الله
"Then when you have resolved, trust in Allah."
* * * * *
Rianti gasped in shock when he saw the Arabic text closing the message in whatsup. Arabic writing that feels familiar in his eyes. Again he saw the same writing today as he had seen in his dreams, also in the house of Master Izzul Islam. Is this a coincidence. Is there any guidance God wants to give him? inner Rianti. Rianti. He smiles. He tried to justify his heart. There is nothing strange about what we see. Especially dreaming of seeing the Quran. All of these are good addresses for him. A sign for his determination to improve. It's good that he returned to remembrance until dawn. Rianti stepped slowly towards his tattered alphabet.
Rianti again sat down on his alphabet. Tasbih was taken back and began to read the practice given by Master Izzul Islam. He felt peace7 in his heart.
Somewhere else. Master Izzul Islam also looks solemn' berunajat in his personal prayer. The night is getting late. Unheard souls raise their hands as the dwellers of the night sleep in their long slumber. Until not felt, the dawn of the shadiq dawned on the eastern horizon. Tarhim's voice echoed everywhere. His groove woke nature from his sleep.