Not Laila Majnun
Saucy

"How about we proceed in court Miss Carla...oh sorry Lady Maysaroh I mean?" dirman asked by suppressing his voice trying to intimidate the person who had cheated him by saying his name was Carla.

Ms. Carla hurriedly walked towards Mr. Dirman then sat down on the floor holding the legs of Mr. Dirman.

"I'm sorry sir....! Please forgive me! I am wrong I am khilaf.. Please do not take me to prison ! Please forgive me sir! " ms. Carla said it while crying whether it was tears of regret or tears of crocodiles because she also promised so but now she is back again with a slightly different look and different tricks.

"Don't be so mom! " Said Mr. Dirman while standing and Miss Carla also released her hand from the foot of Mr. Dirman, "Let's come to my room!" continued Mr. Dirman.

Mr. Dirman left the room followed by Ms. Carla who walked down while squeezing both hands.

There were four young people in the room. Lukman stared intently at Doni, making the teenager's hair stand up. The teenager moved his head slowly towards Lukman. When their eyes met Doni, they immediately looked up in fear.

"You... come with me!" Lukman gave the order as he walked towards the door and with full awareness Doni immediately went to follow the sturdy man he admired even though this was the first time they met.

Suddenly Laila stood up and confronted Lukman at the door. He stretched his hands making the melon fruit as if to erupt because the clothes he wore were very tight with buttons that stretch like to be released because of the pressure of his super fruit.

"can't. Where are you taking my sister? Are you looking for a quiet place to beat him up again?" Hardik Laila's.

Lukman closed his virgin eyes. He was a normal man who could be tense just from looking. He took a strong breath and slowly exhaled Hu..... Allaah, in his heart he prayed to be given strength to resist his temptations and passions.

"I have not prayed, go to Musolla. You're Muslims, right?", his eyes looking up at the laughing lizard mocking him.

" We are Muslims, absolutely. Since our baby is already a Muslim but prayer should not be forced, it should come from his own desire" argued Laila.

"Ooh so.... If your sister is very sick and doesn't want to eat, you'll let her starve to death or you'll force her to eat?"

"He must be forced to eat" he said.

"Solat is also the same, it must be forced . If you wait sincerely until death will not do so. Move over!" Snap Lukman on Laila.

Laila did not flinch to listen to Lukman's short lecture even though her tone was a little rough. His heart melted because there had been no one to remind him to worship God for a long time.

Lukman pushed Laila's forehead with his index finger and said, "Do you ask me to kiss first so that I can get out of here, I don't mind doing it in front of them...." Lukman grinned to scare the girl because in reality he would not want to do that to a girl who was not halal for him.

Laila immediately shifted from where she was standing so Lukman could open the door of the room and walk out followed by Doni and Zainal.

While in front of the room their director simultaneously stopped his steps because Lukman suddenly stopped. He looked back at Zainal sharply.

As if knowing if Lukman's gaze had questions, why did you follow me?. Zainal was nervous and said "A. I have not prayed dhuhur either. I'm also going to musolla bang..."

"You go first!" lukman said as he moved his neck towards Musolla. Lukman also stared intently at Laila who was also following them.

The mature brown-skinned man did not react, his face remained flat and fierce.

When the three had left him a few steps, he then knocked on the door beside him. Lukman entered the director's room after getting permission.

.

.

When we reached the musolla Zainal went straight to the place of the wudlu. While Doni is still sitting in the foyer of musolla waiting for Lukman. Doni was happy when he saw the lukman coming while carrying a large cloth bag.

Lukman gave the bag to Doni after picking up a black sarong and kopyah from inside the cloth bag.

"Wear this!" lukman said with his baritone voice.

Doni looked at the contents of the bag, inside it was a shirt and a sarong.

"What's that bang?" asked Doni while holding up the bag.

"For prayer. You fell into a race, right? " lukman remembers as he hit Doni, the teenage boy staggered in the comb.

"But my wound if it hits the water must have hurt bang!" The law asks for leniency so that it is allowed to not pray anymore.

"Let me add more!" Lukman said, clenching his hands and blowing his knuckles. Doni immediately ran to the bathroom. He remembered how Lukman had beaten him to the ground .

Lukman took off his sneakers and walked to the bathroom carrying a sarong and left his copy on the fences of the mosque.

"pfffftth....."Zainal laughed as he closed his mouth when he saw Doni who had just come out from the place of the wudlu. He who was a thug now looks funny with the shirt and holster he wears.

Doni turned his face. He also felt ashamed to wear such clothes because he had not prayed for a long time. Except on holidays, the last time he prayed was probably in the 7th grade when there was a practice of prayer for religious studies.

Actually the desire for prayer often crossed his mind especially when passing through the mosque in which people are performing congregational prayers. But he was ashamed not to know how to start.

He was happy when Lukman forced him to pray even though he had been beaten to the ground by the man. He realized his mistake instead he felt he had an older brother who beat him up when he was wrong and reminded him when he was negligent.

A little while later Lukman came out of the place of wudlu and came to them while tidying his hair with his hands. She looked very charming with her sharp gaze, her hard jaw, her wet hair and face plus the sheath attached to her feet made her very different.

Zainal and Doni were men who were jealous of the aura emanating from Lukman's face. His body was tall with bulging muscles in his arms. His chest was hard and certainly his stomach was checkered like torn bread.

From inside the Laila mosque to gape at the appearance of men who usually look geeky and hero in the supermarket.