Chapter 4
Marina & Aufar's Wedding
I paired a cream kebaya with ivory-white bell-bottom pants and a matching hijab. Looking at myself in the mirror, I thought I looked so beautiful, with my golden-beige skin, narrow eyes, thick eyebrows, small nose, and not-too-full lips. I had a baby face and a petite figure, weighing only forty-one kilograms at twenty-eight years old. A question arose in my heart: “Why hasn’t there been a man who wanted me to be his life partner? Well, there was someone once, but I was the one who didn’t want him. Ah, forget it,” I told myself. There was still plenty of happiness to be found in other things. I just wanted to experience a complete love, one that was halal.
Everyone who used to be close to me had found someone else to replace me. But not the one who had once entered my life. I still often wished that we had never ended things. Maybe we would be husband and wife by now.
My relationship with Keenan was strange too. We broke up without a single argument. We suddenly lost touch. Keenan stopped messaging me, and from then on, we became strangers again. I often saw him with a new woman on his social media stories. I even congratulated him on his new relationship, though all I felt inside was pain I had buried very deeply.
My story with Keenan was heartbreaking, but the one before Keenan was even worse. His name was Ammar. He was my younger cousin’s friend and senior at school. When my younger cousin asked him whether he planned to get married and whether he already had someone in mind, my cousin offered me to him. That was how we got to know each other.
At first, it was so much fun. Ammar was exactly the kind of man I had dreamed of for years. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was deeply religious because he was a graduate of an Islamic boarding school. I had already fallen in love the first time I saw his picture.
But somewhere in the middle of getting to know each other, I fell too deeply for him. Then, like thunder on a sunny day, the news from him became less and less frequent. Suddenly, my younger cousin told me something I never wanted to hear: Ammar had married a coworker. I knew this might simply be my fate. The love I wanted, the man I had longed for all this time, apparently wasn’t meant for me. Then Keenan appeared and healed my heart, and now Keenan had become another wound in it.
My heart is stronger now. I no longer question love, with all its mysteries. Like water flowing with the current, I’ve surrendered my romantic fate to Allah. Before I knew it, I had turned twenty-eight this year—the perfect age to get married. And now I was going to attend the wedding of a couple who had been told they didn’t have much longer to live. The thought bothered me. Why had they fallen in love when they were about to die? But that was life. It was full of question marks.
“Hoooonk!” A car horn outside the boutique reached my ears. It looked like Virra had arrived to pick me up. This time, I was going with my friend, Virra. “Yeah, Ben,” I replied as I walked out of the boutique. “Come on, Ben. Let’s go,” Virra said to me. “Let’s go.”
We headed to Melati Hospital, just as Aufar and Marina had told us yesterday.
When we arrived at Melati Hospital, I saw that there was nothing unusual about it. It was still just an ordinary hospital. We asked the nurse at the reception desk. “Excuse me, Miss. Could you tell me which room the patient Marina or Aufar is in?” “I’ll look it up for you, ma’am.” “Okay, thank you.”
Virra and I waited. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but there’s no patient under the name Aufar. There is a Marina Widya Chandra, though. She’s on the fifth floor, in a VIP room. She’s recovering from chemotherapy today.” “Okay, thank you for the information.”
We rode the rather luxurious elevator at Melati Hospital. When I stepped out, I saw flower arrangements decorating the door to Marina’s VIP room. My heart began to pound. Was Marina really getting married with only a month left to live after the doctor’s verdict? Without saying much, we entered the room.
“Excuse me. Hello, I’m Nayla. I came to visit Marina.” “Miss Nayla, Masha Allah, you’re beautiful. Come in,” Marina’s mother said, welcoming us. “The bride is much prettier today, ma’am. Hi, Marina. How are you feeling?” I asked. I saw Marina wearing the beautiful dress I had made, even though she was lying in a hospital bed. The suit looked just as good on Aufar, who was sitting beside Marina’s bed. Various wedding gifts, presents, and several flower bouquets filled the room. It really was a wedding ceremony.
“H-hel...lo, Miss,” Marina stammered. “In just a little while, one of the most sacred moments of your life will happen. I hope God grants both of you long lives and heals you from your illnesses.” “Miss, I’m sorry. Marina is feeling the effects of chemotherapy, so she’s having trouble speaking,” her mother whispered.
Tears slipped down my cheeks before I even realized it. My heart ached as I listened. Soon, she would marry the person who loved her too.
The marriage officiant had arrived, and the marriage ceremony was about to begin. Aufar shook hands with Marina’s guardian, and their marriage vows were completed.
“I accept the marriage to Marina Widya Chandra, daughter of Hamka Winata, with the dowry paid in full.” “Witnesses, is it valid?” the marriage officiant asked us all. “It’s valid!” we cheered happily. “Alhamdulillah. Barakallah. Congratulations, Miss Marina and Mr. Aufar. You are now legally and religiously husband and wife,” the marriage officiant concluded.
The mothers of both bride and groom burst into tears. Virra and I couldn’t hold ours back either, and they fell freely. Happiness shone on Aufar and Marina’s faces. They held hands, and Aufar kissed Marina’s forehead. But a few minutes later, the heart monitor attached to Marina’s body stopped. Marina died then and there.
The joyful atmosphere turned into one of mourning. I saw how devastated Aufar was. Marina’s mother also fainted when she learned that her daughter had died. Virra and I stepped out of the room, which was filled with suffocating sobs, to compose ourselves. It was the first time I had ever seen happiness turn into sorrow in an instant.