“Oh, so this is her house?” Maudy rolled down the car window and looked around the woman’s yard.
She stared sharply at the modest house. Who would have thought Hanan had been tempted by a poor woman? Maudy thought bitterly.
The house measured roughly six by ten meters and stood in the middle of a small yard crowded with potted plants and freshly washed clothes hanging out to dry. Its walls were painted white, and the corrugated metal roof looked old. There was no grand fence or car parked in the yard—only a motorcycle.
Maudy snorted softly, half-mocking.
“This is her house?” she repeated, looking at Hanan.
The man merely nodded, then unfastened his seat belt and got out of the car.
Maudy got out too. She stood there for quite some time, her gaze sweeping across the entire yard, from the flip-flops on the porch to the faint sound of chickens coming from behind the house.
She snorted again. “So Honey’s taste can sink this low. How dare some lower-class woman try to steal my husband? You want to compete with me? Tsk!”
The beautiful woman studied the small open window of the house in front of her. She couldn’t help wondering what that slut had that could make Hanan interested in her.
“Babe, come on,” Hanan called. He was already three steps ahead of Maudy.
“Okay. Let me see … what’s so special about this lowlife woman.” Maudy tossed her long, flowing hair and strode forward arrogantly.
Hanan knocked on the door and called out a greeting. A reply came from inside.
“Waalaikumussalam. Who is it?”
“It’s me.”
“Just a second, Honey,” she replied before hurrying over.
She was clearly very familiar with Hanan’s voice. Maudy grumbled inwardly, irritated.
A few seconds later, the door opened. “Oh, Honey. Come in,” she said, lowering her head, though Maudy could see the faint smile on the woman’s lips.
Maudy also noticed the woman’s flushed cheeks. She must be thrilled that my husband came. What a slut! How dare a woman like this become a mistress! she cursed inwardly.
Maudy continued studying the woman—more specifically, her appearance. Far beyond what Maudy had expected, the woman looked like a devout Muslim woman in a long dress and long hijab. But why would a woman like this become a mistress? Was she really Hanan’s woman? Or … was she his mother? Maudy had to make sure.
“Okay, are you really Hanan’s fiancée?” she asked curtly.
“Yes, Sis.” The woman nodded. “Please come in, Sis. Honey.”
Hanan nodded and stepped inside, followed by Maudy.
“Go ahead, please. Have a seat, Honey, Sis.” She gestured for Hanan and Maudy to sit.
“Just a moment. I’ll get you some tea,” she continued.
“No need!” Maudy snapped. She stared straight into the eyes of the woman still standing in front of her. “Sit down! Do you know who I am?”
The woman slowly shook her head, then glanced at Hanan for a moment. He remained silent, only lowering his head.
“What’s your name?” Maudy asked again.
“Alya, Sis.”
“Do you know who I am?” she repeated, this time with heavy emphasis.
“You’re Hanan’s older sister, right?”
“What? His sister?” Maudy laughed. “I’m his wife!”
Alya’s eyes widened. She was shocked—completely shocked.
How could Hanan have a wife? When had he gotten married? Hadn’t the man proposed to her just a week ago? Then why was there suddenly a woman introducing herself as Hanan’s wife? Had the man in front of her betrayed her? So he hadn’t come here today to discuss their wedding, but to end their relationship? Alya’s mind raced with questions.
“Why are you quiet?” Maudy scoffed. “So even a woman in a long hijab can become a mistress. How cheap! Hey, slut. Since when have you known my husband?”
“Babe, you promised you’d behave yourself.” Hanan gently patted Maudy’s thigh as she sat beside him.
“Oh, please. Why should I behave myself around a slut like this?! Hey, you! Why are you just standing there, mistress?” Maudy glared at her.
Alya’s hands clenched the long end of her hijab, which fell all the way to her knees. Her chest heaved, and she still couldn’t understand what was happening.
How was this possible? Why was she suddenly being called a mistress? After being insulted like this, Alya was furious and humiliated.
In the three months she had known Hanan, Alya had never known that he had a wife. Did that mean she had been deceived? She had no idea.
“Hey, slut! Answer me!” Maudy’s shout made Alya blink. “Since when have you known my husband?” she demanded again.
“For three months, Sis.” Alya lowered her head. She didn’t know whether shame, disappointment, betrayal, or anger dominated her feelings at that moment.
“What? Three months ago? Great! You’d only known each other that briefly, and you were already planning to get married. Tell me, how did you two meet?”
“Babe, that’s enough. We should go home.” Hanan felt the situation would only get worse if it continued. Whatever happened, they needed to discuss it with cool heads.
“Shut up, Honey!” Maudy shouted furiously.
“That’s enough, babe! I’ll explain everything at home. Come on, let’s go.” Hanan stood and took his wife’s hand. “Alya, I’m sorry for everything that happened. I’ll explain it later.”
“Sit down, Honey. Let me do the talking.” Alya lifted her face and looked at Hanan coldly.
The man sat down again, looking uneasy, his worried gaze fixed on her.
“Fine, then hurry up and tell me!” Maudy pressed impatiently, folding her arms across her chest.
And so the story unfolded. It began with Hanan sending Alya a message through the blue app with the letter f on it. It wasn’t flirting, but a question.
Then came question after question about the religious ruling on having children, what happened if someone refused to have children, and many other things.
Why had he asked Alya? Because Alya was a religious activist. She often wrote religious and motivational messages on her social media.
Alya answered every question patiently and in detail. She was always excited whenever she received a message from Hanan. Of course, Alya thought Hanan was a good man who was in the process of becoming more religious.
Until, without realizing it, feelings began to grow between them. For some reason, they both felt they were compatible.
One day, Hanan invited Alya to meet him. Naturally, they wouldn’t be alone, because Alya refused to be alone with a man who wasn’t her mahram.
So Alya invited her cousin. They met at a café in Bandung.
When they saw each other in person for the first time, they were both shocked. Why? Because it turned out Hanan and Alya had attended the same middle school years ago.
And yes, they had once been in love with each other. It could be said that Alya had been Hanan’s childhood crush.
After that meeting, they began communicating frequently through WhatsApp. They no longer discussed Islamic religious studies, but more personal matters instead. Until finally, Hanan proposed to Alya a week ago.
And then this disaster happened.
“But I swear, I never intended to take him away from you, Sis. I didn’t know Honey already had a wife,” Alya said, bringing her long explanation to an end.
“Excuses! You intended to become his second wife, didn’t you? Just admit it!” Maudy’s voice rose into a shrill shriek.
“Babe, please be patient. We can talk this out, can’t we?”
“Oh, please. You’re happy, aren’t you, Honey? You found your ex and planned to make her my second wife! I refuse!”
Hanan rubbed his forehead, looking completely frustrated.
“Sis, if I’d known from the beginning that Honey already had a wife, I would never have gotten involved with him. And you, Honey—why didn’t you tell me you already had a family?” Alya looked at Hanan, demanding an explanation.
“Oh, so now you’re blaming my husband?” Maudy grew even more agitated.
“Babe, calm down first. We can talk about this slowly, okay?”
“Shut up, Honey!”
“I’m not blaming anyone, Sis. This is all my fault for not finding out sooner. I’m truly sorry,” Alya said humbly.
Maudy clicked her tongue in annoyance. She wanted nothing more than to yank off the woman’s hijab and pull her hair. But seeing Alya’s gentle manner of speaking, Maudy felt embarrassed by her own impulse. No matter what, she couldn’t appear too arrogant if she wanted to preserve her image in her husband’s eyes.
Am I really going to lose to Alya? That was the thought running through Maudy’s mind.
Suddenly, Maudy came up with a crazy idea. Alya had destroyed her relationship with her husband, no matter what her excuse was. A mistress was still a mistress. She needed to be taught a lesson.
“You’re a religious preacher, right? Then I have a question for you. What’s the ruling on polygamy?” Maudy asked, glaring at Alya and refusing to meet her eyes.