USTADZ
82. We Divorce

Meanwhile, at Dasha's house, Ustadz Amar was busy discussing with his group members. Because their discussion was quite a lot, Ustadz Amar did not realize that the night was getting late. He only realized when he saw the clock printed on the wallpaper of his friend's phone.

"Well, it's twelve and a half?" Ustadz Amar hastily grabbed the phone from his pocket. He then patted his forehead realizing his stupidity when he saw the flat object was not lit. "Astaghfirullah, where forgot to charge the battery again. Syahla must have been ranting this,"

Ustadz Amar then turned his gaze to the members of the group sitting in front of him. "Guys, I have to go home. My wife is waiting at home. My phone is dead, I'm afraid he's worried" he said, hurriedly tidying up his things lying on the table.

"Eh, where are you going Amar? Don't go yet, I've prepared coffee for you." Dasha emerged from her house carrying a tray of cookies and a few cups of coffee.

"No need. I have to get home, my wife's waiting." Ustadz Amar was about to get out of his chair, until suddenly the coffee cup that Dasha was carrying spilled over to him.

"Geez!" Everyone was shocked. Ustadz Amar grimaced because the coffee water that hit his body felt hot.

"Oh my god! I'm sorry, Amar! I didn't mean it!" Dasha quickly picked up the tissue from the table, deftly wiping away the water spill in the clothes of Ustadz Amar.

"Already, Dasha! No need! Let me clean it!" Ustadz Amar tried to get away from Dasha because suddenly the girl was too attached to him.

"Wait a minute Amar, let me clean up first!" Dasha deliberately put her body on, Ustadz Amar tried hard to push the girl away.

"Mass?" A woman's voice muffled the commotion in the house. The living room suddenly went quiet. Everyone looked at the origin of the voice. There was a woman with a hijab in her head looking towards them with a surprised expression.

"Shaaahla?" Ustadz Amar. "What are you doing here?" Ustadz Amar then realized that his position with Dasha seemed ambiguous. She immediately pushed the girl down.

"It's not what you think!"

Both of Shahla's hands were clenched. Then, holding back his tears that were ready to come out, he walked over to them. Roughly, he grabbed a glass of drink on the table and he poured it into the face of Ustadz Amar. With teary eyes, he said solemnly.

"We're divorced,"

Syahla's words were like a bolt of lightning in broad daylight that struck Ustadz Amar in a row. The man did not explain, but Shahla had turned around to leave the place.

"Yahla!" Ustadz Amar pursued Shahla in frustration. "Wait on! It's not what you see! You misunderstood me! My position was like that because Dasha accidentally doused coffee on my body! I've asked him to stay away, but he still doesn't want to! Baby, listen to me! Where you going? The danger of such nights in America! Lots of bad guys! Honey!"

Syahla did not criticize Ustadz Amar who tried to explain at length. He continued to walk in an uncertain direction, of course with tears continuing to flow on his cheeks. His heart was like a knife, swallowing a deep disappointment.

Clearly, how could Shahla not be disappointed? Before arriving at Dasha's house, Shahla had been desperately arranging the heart. She did not want jealousy to blind her, and she wanted to believe that her husband did love her and would not look at other women. But, what did he get when he got there? Syahla even saw her husband was making out with a beautiful woman in very minimal clothes, which was none other than Dasha.

The two of them continued to walk in silence, not knowing how many hours had passed. Syahla felt her legs hurt, and she paused to look. When his shoes were taken off, he saw his feet hurt everywhere.

Syahla crouched down to look at her legs closer, the pain from the wound on the leg coupled with the wound on her heart made her tears flow again. Shahla felt a deep pain, she cried bitterly.

"It hurts a lot?" Ustadz Amar approached Syahla and crouched down in front of her. "We go home first. Let me take medicine,"

"You are evil" Shahla said as she beat her husband's body.

"Yes" Ustadz Amar let Shahla vent her emotions. "I'm sorry."

"You promised me you wouldn't betray me. But where is the evidence? You're even friendly with other girls."

"Yes, I'm sorry. I was wrong."

"You are wrong! You are evil! You're the—" Shahla can't continue because her tears are back flowing. Ustadz Amar gently hugged the wife, rubbing Syahla's head while incessantly apologizing.

"I want to go home,"

"Yes, let's go home."

"Not go back there, but go back to Indonesia."

Ustadz Amar gasped. But then he nodded his head. "Yes. But not now. Tomorrow morning I'll book a ticket."

"I'm alone. It's not necessary."

Ustadz Amar was silent for a while, he actually felt heavy to grant his wife's wish, but he was forced to nod his head.

"OKAY. But now we go home first, right?"

Ustadz Amar guided Syahla to his back. It was impossible for Ustadz Amar to allow his wife to go any further with such a state of her feet. He then stepped towards the bus stop while carrying his wife. Shahla shoes he tenteng with his hands. Ustadz Amar continued to walk with a silent mouth, while listening to the sobs of the wife who sounded bitter.