“Where’s Sis Alya, Arin?” asked Pak Solihin, who had just entered the house. He and his wife had just arrived home and found Arin there alone.
“Oh, that... Sis Alya went home earlier, Dad. She said she wanted to stay at her own place. She didn’t want to spend the night here.” Alya answered while engrossed in reading an online novel.
“Hey, that girl. She never listens!” Pak Solihin looked annoyed. The child just couldn’t be told what to do, or so he thought.
“Go after her, please!” Pak Solihin asked his wife to follow Alya. “Tell her to spend the night here instead. Alya’s heartbroken right now. I don’t want anything bad to happen later. Ugh, that’s scary,” he continued with a shudder, imagining Alya taking her own life, like the story he had once seen on the news about a young man who killed himself over heartbreak.
“Come on, Dad. Just let Alya stay at her own place if that’s what she wants. Maybe she needs some time alone. Don’t imagine the worst,” Bu Erna replied as she sat down on the sofa, letting the fatigue from the journey wash over her.
“Mom’s right, Dad. Just let Sis Alya be alone for a while. There’s no need to worry. Arin will head over there in a minute to keep her company.”
“Come on, hurry up! Go keep her company over there. Poor thing, your older sister,” said Pak Solihin, urging Arin to hurry over and accompany her because he felt sorry for her. He meant his cousin, of course.
“Hmmm.” Arin grumbled, then slipped her phone into the pocket of her abaya and hurried away.
“Sweetheart, that coffee looks like it’ll be good.” Pak Solihin glanced at his wife while raising and lowering his eyebrows.
Bu Erna glared at him. “Of course it’ll be good. It was made especially for you,” she said as she rose to her feet. Naturally it was good—especially since it had been made for him, as she meant.
Pak Solihin merely grinned at his slightly irritated wife. “You have to accept it, honey. Serving your husband brings great rewards.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah...” Bu Erna shot back, pursing her lips.
Pak Solihin burst out laughing. His wife’s irritation was more like entertainment to him.
Meanwhile, Arin had just arrived at Alya’s house, which stood directly across from her own.
The girl with the less-than-pointed nose quickly knocked on the door. “Sis Alya... it’s Arin.”
She knocked three times, but no answer came from inside. Arin pulled the door handle, but it was locked from within.
“Sis, you’re in there, right? Sis... Sis.” Arin knocked on the door again.
When there was still no answer, Arin walked around to the side of the house, where Alya’s bedroom was. Luckily, the window was open.
“Ah, no wonder you couldn’t hear me. Sis Alya, hey!” Arin tossed a small pebble at her cousin, picking it up from beside Alya’s little garden.
The woman whose marriage had fallen through was sitting in a chair with her face buried in the crook of her arms, using the table in front of her as a target.
Alya blinked. “Astaghfirullah,” she said, rubbing her chest.
“Ew, Sis Alya, you’re drooling,” teased Arin, who was still standing outside the window.
“Hey, I am not.” Alya quickly wiped both cheeks, which always had a naturally rosy glow. “What are you doing out there?”
“Waking you up, obviously. I knocked on the door over and over, but you didn’t hear me.”
Alya massaged her forehead. “Astaghfirullah... I’m sorry, Arin. I’m really exhausted. Hang on, I’ll open the door.”
She hurried to the front, intending to open the door for Arin.
“Exhausted, or heartbroken?” Arin teased as she walked into the front yard.
The roar of a car sounded in the yard of Pak Solihin’s house. At the time, the homeowner was happily watching TV and reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee beside him.
“Dad, whose car is that?” Bu Erna asked, lowering the TV volume.
Pak Solihin lowered the newspaper he was reading and looked toward the window. A white car was parked in his yard.
“Looks like we have a guest, honey.”
“Wait... looking closely, that seems to be Kang Hanan’s car.” Bu Erna narrowed her eyes. The more she looked, the more it seemed like Hanan’s car, as she put it.
“See? I told you.” Bu Erna slapped her own thigh when she saw Hanan get out of the car.
“What does that boy want now?” The middle-aged man, Alya’s uncle, clicked his tongue in annoyance.
What was he doing here again?
Curious, Pak Solihin hurried to the front door. He opened it before Hanan even had a chance to knock.