As time passed, everything about Zahwa had come within his grasp: the girl's lineage, and the identity of the person who would become her life partner. When resignation began to erode beneath feelings he could no longer keep buried, that was when his sanity began to crumble from the depths of his soul. It was not a desire to possess her, merely curiosity—until, in the end, he sent someone to keep watch over Zahwa at all times. That was what the young man had done.
"She'll be holding her marriage ceremony tomorrow," the spy reported.
"With that man named Raihan?"
"That's right, sir."
He nodded slowly and issued no further orders. His attitude puzzled the spy. Normally, when a man learned that the woman he loved was going to marry someone else, anger would erupt. Yet this young man merely fell silent. His gaze remained fixed on a portrait of Zahwa, who was busy arranging flowers before him.
"Do I need to do anything to her prospective husband?"
He shook his head. That was his only answer.
"What about my next assignment?"
"Keep watching her. From a distance."
The spy asked no more questions. He had served his master for a long time, and this sort of behavior was nothing new to him.
"All right, sir. If you'll excuse me."
"Wait. Are you hungry?"
Holding his stomach, he answered with an awkward chuckle, "Honestly, yeah."
"Get the ingredients ready. We'll cook together."
Ugh! He had assumed his master would serve a ready-made meal. Instead, they still had to prepare it themselves. When the spy remained frozen in place, he glanced at him. "Hey!"
"Ah, okay, sir," he replied quickly before hurrying to carry out the order.
The next day at the Islamic boarding school...
Dusk crept in. The male boarding-school students recited the words of God as they waited for Maghrib. Hafizah had just finished performing her ablutions. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she combed through her still half-wet hair.
"Sister Hafizah, the new female boarding-school student was crying in the courtyard of Kyai Rahmatullah's residence," a female boarding-school student said from the doorway.
"I just finished bathing. Could you ask Sister Nada for help first?"
"Sister Nada herself told me to report to you."
This was one of a security officer's responsibilities. It was not only about keeping the female boarding-school students' eyes from wandering when they crossed paths with the male boarding-school students, but also about soothing hearts that longed for home. Just like now.
Hafizah quickly tied her hair back and picked up the neatly folded jumbo bergo hijab from the bed. Thankfully, she was already dressed, so she could carry out her duty right away.
Nada looked distressed. Her emotions had reached their breaking point because the new female boarding-school student kept struggling and insisting that she be sent home. The two female religious teachers who had initially been handling her were unavailable, so the responsibility had been passed to the security officers.
"Hey, this is a public place. It's not just women who can see you—men can, too. If you want to cry, let's go back to the dorm. That way people won't stare at you," Hafizah pleaded gently. Kyai Rahmatullah's courtyard was indeed outside the girls' dorm. Every male boarding-school student heading to the mosque had to pass through there. The new student's crying had been drawing attention for some time.
Her features were lovely, but her eyes were firm. Many people might have expected Hafizah to snap at her. Yet even after her advice was rejected, she continued to speak gently.
"I understand that you miss home. I also understand that you're not used to living in a dorm. Everything here is regulated, and you have to be on time."
"My parents must have sent me here on purpose to get rid of me! Just because I'm a little naughty, they were willing to abandon me in this place full of rules!" she sobbed.
Hafizah clasped Hani's fingers. "Marwa, listen to me, okay?"
"Your parents would never get rid of you. Do you think you're the only one crying? Maybe they're crying at home, too, because they miss you. They thought long and hard before sending you here. They have high hopes for your future."
"By making me cook? I never even washed dishes at home."
Hafizah wiped Marwa's tears. "That's exactly why. You're lucky. But if you keep depending on everyone else, it'll come back to hurt you someday. Just like now. You're upset simply because you don't know how to cook yet. If you did, you wouldn't be this miserable, right?"
She was right. Marwa's greatest source of anxiety was the kitchen. And in her heart, she admitted that perhaps she would not have sunk this low if she knew how to cook.
"Instead of crying until you're exhausted, how about we make peace with the situation? There's nothing wrong with learning to cook. Besides, Sister Hafizah and Sister Nada will be there with you in the kitchen."
The trembling in Marwa's shoulders began to subside. "Marwan's scared that if the food turns out badly, she'll be punished."
"Who told you that?"
"The notice board says that anyone who doesn't follow the rules will be punished."
"So does knowing how to cook count as following the rules for you?"
Marwa nodded. Hafizah and Nada smiled as well. It turned out to be nothing more than a misunderstanding. The punishments were for worship and mandatory activities, not kitchen matters.
"Come on, let's go back to the dorm first. We'll explain all the rules to you later. You just misunderstood," Nada coaxed, her emotions having calmed when she saw Marwa's innocence.
And so the two security officers escorted Marwa into the girls' dormitory grounds.
After they left, Fathan smiled faintly. As it turned out, he had been at Kyai Rahmatullah's residence from the very beginning. He had witnessed the entire incident, listening to every soothing word Hafizah spoke.
"That four-door refrigerator of a girl. She's so sweet with girls, but when it comes to guys, she's unbelievably sharp-tongued," he muttered while playing with his phone.
"Ugh! Why is Grandpa taking so long? I came all the way to visit him, and he's not even here." Fathan had deliberately returned early to pay his respects. But Kyai Rahmatullah was in a meeting with the administrators. Ramadan was almost here, so naturally there was a lot to discuss.
Zahwa's name crossed his mind again, followed by an image of Hafizah. His head began to ache. To calm his heart, Fathan got up to perform his ablutions. Then he walked toward the mosque and joined the male boarding-school students in their prayer row.