The old woman furrowed her brow, puzzled by Riza's sudden shock and stiff posture.
"Why are you so surprised, sweetheart? Did you think he was still young?" the old woman chuckled softly, nudging Riza's arm.
"From his voice, he does sound very young and energetic. But these days, plenty of young people get married early and already have families."
Riza forced a stiff smile, trying desperately to hide her awkwardness and fluster so the old woman wouldn't suspect anything. "Y-yeah, I guess you're right, Grandma. You're absolutely right."
"All right, come on in. The call to begin prayer is about to start," the old woman urged warmly.
"Yes, Grandma. You go ahead."
After the old woman stepped inside, pushing aside the curtain separating the women's area, Riza remained rooted to the spot in the stone courtyard. The late-afternoon air felt much colder than usual, seeping all the way into her bones.
Riza fell silent. Her heart suddenly felt empty. So the melodious voice that had been an oasis amid the crush of her algebra and functional analysis assignments belonged to a man who already had a life partner.
The mystery that had held her captive for the past ninety days had finally been solved. Yet the answer brought with it a strange numbness.
"Okay, Riza. It's time to put an end to this admiration and curiosity. Don't get carried away. Come on, focus on finishing your studies in this country," she thought firmly, trying to straighten out her logic, which had briefly gone off balance.
Disappointed? Of course Riza was disappointed. She couldn't lie to herself. Ever since she first heard that soul-stirring call to prayer during her first month in Tokyo, Riza's thoughts had often wandered far too far. Fictional scenarios had unknowingly woven themselves through her mind before she fell asleep.
She had imagined that the person behind that voice was a graduate student like herself. A polite, handsome, dignified man who was, naturally, still single.
Riza had even secretly hoped that one day, on her way to the mosque, she would run into him and exchange greetings with the owner of that voice.
Every night, those romantic daydreams became a small source of comfort amid the exhaustion of her classes.
But this afternoon, all those beautiful fantasies collapsed without a trace. They had been nothing more than an illusion she had created herself.
Riza let out a long breath. A thin wisp of condensation rose from her lips into the late-afternoon air. She closed her eyes for a moment, absorbing the last remnants of the disappointment prickling in her chest, then stepped into the women's area to perform wudu.
As she washed her face with water as cold as ice, Riza let her regret wash away with the trickling water. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror of the ablution area. An Indonesian girl struggling on her own in a foreign country to earn a master's degree in mathematics.
"Your reason for coming here is to study, Riza. Not to look for a romance like the ones in novels," she scolded herself, her gaze resolute.
After completing the congregational Asr prayer, Riza straightened her prayer garment and left the mosque with a lighter step. The disappointment was still there, but the torturous curiosity that had plagued her had now completely faded. Her heart was calm again—not because the mystery of the voice had been solved, but because she had finally let it go.
As Riza walked along the sidewalk toward the dormitory, the phone in her coat pocket began vibrating loudly. Keisya's name appeared on the screen.
"Hello, Sya?" Riza greeted her, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Za! Are you at the dorm yet?" Keisya's voice came through the phone, loud and breathless, just like her usual energetic self.
"I just finished Abstract Algebra. Seriously, my brain is about to explode! Are you free? Let's find some halal ramen near the station. I need some carbs before I tackle the assignment from Professor Sato!"
Riza chuckled softly. Hearing Keisya ramble instantly brought her focus back to reality. Her mixed-race best friend always knew how to distract her.
"Absolutely, Sya. I'm walking home from the mosque, too. Let's meet in front of the convenience store near the station in ten minutes, okay?"
"Sounds good! I'll be waiting, beautiful Riza! Don't be late—I'm starving!" Keisya exclaimed before ending the call.
Riza lowered her phone and smiled faintly. Her steps quickened, growing more purposeful as she pushed through Tokyo's late-afternoon wind.
That misplaced admiration and curiosity had officially been buried that afternoon. Now her focus was whole again: conquering mathematics in Japan and making proud the people waiting for her back home. ***