Was it wrong for me to marry? Or was I meant to stay alone? ***
Rumiyati's house was usually quiet, but now it was crowded, packed with people jostling to come pay their respects. Jostling? Yes. Everyone in Telomoyo Village was curious about Subandi's sudden death. He had still looked perfectly healthy yesterday and had even managed to attend congregational Maghrib prayer at the village mosque.
Many speculated that Subandi had been struck by the sitting-wind curse. Others believed a heart attack must have claimed the newlywed's life. As far as the villagers knew, those two things were often what caused people to die suddenly.
Rumiyati sat listlessly, sobbing beside Subandi's body—her husband's. They had only been married forty days. The neighbors gazed at the woman with pity, but also with curiosity.
Welcome to the widowhood zone. Whatever she did from now on would always become fodder for gossip. What was right would be called wrong, and what was wrong would be judged even more harshly.
Rumiyati's life had always been perfect. At least, that was what many people in Telomoyo believed. She had inherited vast rice fields, rubber plantations, and a cattle farm from her father. She was beautiful, tall and slender with lovely curves, soft-spoken—and then she married Subandi, the village's idolized young man.
Subandi was the son of Telomoyo's village head, who also owned a rice mill. Handsome, strong, and from a respected family, even if he had only graduated from high school. Plenty of girls set their sights on him and tried to turn on their charm. But that man's heart belonged to Rumiyati alone.
They had been close since childhood. Each other's first love, their feelings had never faded with time. They had only continued to grow, becoming deeper and more complete. Other men and women came near, but they could not shake their determination to keep moving forward until their marriage contract ceremony.
Rumiyati's father was known as the richest man in Telomoyo. Sadly, he died three months before his only daughter's wedding. Subandi then helped the girl manage all her businesses.
That was also what convinced Rumiyati to bring their wedding forward. Subandi's business acumen, good looks, loyalty, and, of course, the sincere love he gave her were beyond question.
Subandi was the village heartthrob, paired with Rumiyati, the village's most beautiful flower. Truly, they were a perfect couple, as if they were a flawless destiny ordained by the Great God. Everyone would surely agree.
The wedding celebration lasted three days and three nights. Every night, various entertainments were performed until just before dawn. There was shadow-puppet theater, Javanese folk theater, campursari, ronggeng dance, and even dangdut. Neither of them came from an ordinary family. It would have been embarrassing to hold an ordinary wedding celebration.
All the villagers welcomed the celebration feast joyfully. Besides getting free entertainment, they could also enjoy all kinds of food that was served throughout the day. A wedding celebration fit for Telomoyo's sultan!
Rumiyati's married life with her husband was wonderful too. They always looked affectionate, just like newlyweds. There had never been the slightest trace of irritation, gloom, or sourness on either of their faces. Happiness always shone from them, making many people envious of the perfection of their love and life. Handsome and beautiful, wealthy, harmonious, happy.
Fate could never be predicted, and misfortune could never be foreseen. That perfection had now turned into a calamity. Subandi had died suddenly.
Sulastri, Rumiyati's mother, stayed beside her only child, who was still dazed. All the funeral arrangements had been entrusted to Subandi's parents.