“Dad, Mom, I’m sorry if I’ve always been a burden to you. Thank you for raising me like your own child and never treating me differently from Mila, your biological daughter.”
A gentle hand stroked Mayra’s head.
“It was only right for us to treat you that way, dear. I hope you don’t change. Keep being the Mayra you’ve always been—the kind, polite daughter of ours. Just because you’ve learned the truth, don’t start treating us like strangers.”
Mila was still shaking her head in disbelief. What she was hearing and seeing felt like a dream. The big sister who had always made her jealous turned out not to be related to her by blood at all. No wonder their mother treated them differently. Mila tended to be spoiled, while Mayra was always expected to be independent.
“As for the young man who wants to have a ta’aruf with you, I’ll approve of whoever he is. If Ustadz Fahmi thinks he’s a good person, then he must have proven his character.”
“Thank you, Dad. Thank you for everything. I don’t know how I could ever repay you and Mom.”
“Don’t say things like that, dear. I’ll be angry if you act that way. Just behave as you always have.”
“Yeah, May, don’t think of us as strangers. We’re still your parents, and Mila is your little sister. Tomorrow, let Ustadz Fahmi know. We’ll wait for the young man to come with his family.”
Mayra looked up, and her mother gently wiped her cheek.
“My little girl has grown up, hasn’t she? Someone has a crush on her now.”
This was the first time Santi had ever acted so close to Mayra. Maybe she realized that Mayra would soon be starting a family of her own.
A flush spread across Mayra’s cheeks, still wet with tears.
“Mom, Dad, you’re not joking, are you? I’m not being pranked, am I?” Mila asked, looking from one of them to the other.
“No, Mil. Mayra is indeed our adopted daughter, but we love her just as much as we love you.”
“May,” Mila called, making Mayra turn toward her. “Pinch me so I’ll know this isn’t all a dream. Ow! Why’d you pinch me so hard, Mom?”
Mila rubbed her cheek, which stung slightly from her mother’s pinch. Her lips puckered, making Santi want to pinch her again.
“You’re the one who asked. Mayra wouldn’t have wanted to pinch you, so I did it for her.”
Mila puckered her lips even more.
“May, who wants to have a ta’aruf with you? Do I know him?”
Mayra shook her head, making the three people around her frown in confusion.
“I don’t know who he is, but he’s the son of one of Ustadz Fahmi’s friends.”
“Oh, so it’s like buying a cat in a bag.”
“It’s not quite like that, Mil. I trust Ustadz Fahmi’s choice. God willing, he’s a good young man. Just pray that we’re meant for each other.”
“Aw, I hope he lives up to your expectations, May. Dad, Mom, even if May is getting married, don’t make me hurry up and follow her, okay? I still want to have fun. I don’t want to deal with marriage yet. I haven’t had enough fun.”
“If there’s a good young man who wants you to be his partner, then I’ll be all for it, Mil.”
“Daaad,” Mila whined, making everyone laugh.
The man who intended to have a ta’aruf with Mayra had contacted Ustadz Fahmi to say that he would come that afternoon to meet her. Mayra’s heart was in turmoil. She was actually a little hesitant, but she couldn’t bring herself to refuse. In the end, the girl steeled herself to meet a man whose name she didn’t even know yet. Maybe Mayra knew him too, considering he supposedly often watched her on campus.
“Assalamualaikum, Ustadz.”
“Waalaikumsalam, May. Come in,” Ustadz Fahmi instructed.
Mayra smiled with her gaze lowered. She greeted Ustadz Fahmi and kissed his hand. Then Mayra sat facing him without looking away from the carpet spread beneath them. The maroon hijab she wore enhanced the beauty of her radiant face. Not a trace of sadness showed on her features, even though she now knew the truth—that she was only an adopted daughter.