The days passed with her beloved. Their happiness continued to grow, blossoming like a bud when her beloved finally intended to propose to her.
“Zaidan is a good young man. Handsome, and good in his faith, too,” Mrs. Salma said when Zahwa rejected another man’s proposal—the man she had never even known before.
“Mom, Mas Reihan is good, too. He always pays attention to me.”
“But, honey...”
“Mom, I just don’t want to marry a man I don’t know.”
“But he wants to propose right away. He doesn’t just want to date you,” Mr. Ahmad, her father, added.
A proposal. A wedding. Those two words had been tormenting Zahwa for years. She had been in love with a young man for years, a man she believed understood her better than anyone. His name was Reihan. The only son of a prominent family, he had become the CEO of a digital company whose name was beginning to make waves while still young.
In the beginning, everything was sweet. Reihan’s love and attention never stopped. And it wasn’t just Reihan—his parents welcomed Zahwa with open arms, too. Though Zahwa was merely a flower-shop employee from a modest family, Reihan’s family never looked down on her.
Humaira Zahwa. That was her name. A girl with long, beautifully cascading hair. Tall and graceful, she radiated charm. No wonder Reihan had fallen so deeply for her. But little by little, Zahwa began to realize the truth.
He said he would do anything for Zahwa. That included paying for her youngest sibling’s education.
Yes, thanks to Reihan’s help, the burden on Mr. Ahmad and Mrs. Salma’s shoulders felt lighter. They only managed their own small palm-oil plantation. It wasn’t large, but it was enough to live on. Reihan’s presence was like rain in the dry season.
But that rain turned out to bring a storm.
That evening, Reihan’s family came to visit. On the porch of the modest house, a promise was sealed. The rumors about Zahwa rejecting the earlier proposal disappeared, replaced by new whispers: Zahwa was going to be courted by an extremely wealthy man. That was village life. Every event became a story repeated from mouth to mouth.
“The wedding will, God willing, be held this year. We’re still discussing the date,” a representative from Reihan’s family said that night.
Zahwa went back to her days as a flower-shop employee. A diamond ring now rested on her ring finger.
“Baby, I bought you a dress. Wear it to work, okay? It suits you so perfectly, surrounded by flowers every day. You look like an angel in a garden.” Reihan held out a beautiful, delicate flower-patterned dress.
“Thanks.” Zahwa gave Reihan a quick kiss on the cheek. But something felt off in her heart.
This wasn’t the first time. Reihan loved pampering her. Expensive watches, designer bags, boutique clothes, even shoes—everything came from Reihan. Zahwa was feminine by nature. She loved dressing up and smelling good. And her wallet was never empty, either. Reihan always kept it filled.
She had once brought this up when her parents pressured her to get married and regretted her rejection of the earlier proposal. Upset at feeling as though she was being blamed, Zahwa finally told them about Reihan’s kindness. This had happened long before Reihan came to propose and take responsibility for her sibling’s schooling.
What Zahwa didn’t know was that all that “kindness” came with a price. Reihan was beginning to control her—what clothes she was allowed to wear, and whom she was allowed to befriend. Little by little.
That afternoon, Reihan had an important meeting. Zahwa went home alone by bus. It had been a long time since she had taken public transportation. Before that, she had stopped by the supermarket. She had a lot of groceries.
It was exactly rush hour. The bus was packed. Fortunately, Zahwa found a seat. She played on her phone with the bitten-apple logo while waiting for her stop.