In the yard, Maryam found Fathan. Her older brother was still wearing a mask. Instead of greeting him with a salim, Maryam teased him.
"This is what happens after meeting Bro Zaidan. You caught the mask-wearing habit too, huh?"
"Instead of giving me a salim, you're babbling," Fathan shot back.
Maryam immediately took Fathan's hand. "Welcome home, Mary's loudmouth big brother."
"You're the loudmouth!"
"You're the loudmouth, Bro! Where's the pineapple from Grandma Lila?"
"Give me a second," Fathan replied. His hands were still busy with the shopping bags. He had stopped by the bookstore first.
"Ugh, you're taking forever. I'll get it myself. Hurry inside. Ew, you smell like a dragon, Bro." That was Maryam. Her tongue was as sharp as a knife. Fathan only answered with a smile or a joke. He never got angry.
"Fine, get it yourself from the back."
But Maryam did not head toward the trunk. Her eyes instead caught sight of something in the front seat. A foreign object tucked beneath the seat.
Her brows drew together. Hesitantly, she picked it up. A lipstick. Maroon. Elegant.
Could this be a sign? Was her brother finally going to fulfill Grandpa's wish and get married soon?
This belonged to a woman. And Maryam was certain it wasn't hers. Nor was it Umma's.
"Umma!!! Bro just went out with a girrrl!!!" Her scream split the afternoon.
A woman? Fathan? It seemed impossible. All this time, Fathan had been extremely careful around the opposite sex.
Umma Liana immediately turned off the stove and hurried into the yard. Fathan followed close behind. He had to clear this up.
The maroon lipstick lay in Maryam's palm. Umma Liana never wore such a dark shade. At most, she wore light pink, and even then, only a thin layer. Maryam was the same.
"This isn't Umma's lipstick, right? I know it isn't!" She asked the question and answered it herself. That was Maryam. Nothing could cure her nosiness.
Umma Liana slowly shook her head.
Fathan finally arrived. "It probably belongs to the girl I helped earlier."
Maryam turned to him at once. "Oh, really? Who did you help?"
Calmly, Fathan told them what had happened, detailing every second of the incident. He did not want any misunderstanding.
"I took her to the motorcycle-taxi stand. That's all, Umma."
Umma Liana's expression softened. "Alhamdulillah. You became that girl's helper. Did you two get acquainted? If you did, return this lipstick to her. It looks expensive. Just look at the box—it's elegant."
"Let Maryam return it," Maryam pleaded. This was the first time her brother had ever dealt with a girl. Her curiosity had soared to the heavens.
But that hope was dashed. Fathan shook his head.
"No, Umma. After I took her to the motorcycle-taxi stand, we went our separate ways. We didn't have time to get acquainted."
"Smack!" Maryam slapped her own forehead.
"That's so boring, Bro! In a K-drama, after the hero rescues a girl, they always get acquainted. Exchange numbers. Keep texting..."
"And then enter hell together," Fathan cut in firmly.
Maryam immediately pouted. "It's just getting acquainted, Bro."
"Getting acquainted can lead to meeting up. Meeting up without direction can invite you onto a path Allah does not approve of. Zina of the eyes from looking at each other. Especially if it goes as far as touching someone who isn't a mahram. Haram!"
Maryam quickly hid behind Umma Liana's back, avoiding Fathan's sharp gaze. "Umma, his preacher mode is on," she whispered.
"No wonder he's still single. He's so strict."
Umma Liana only chuckled softly. "Well, you love teasing your brother."
"Bro, I was only kidding. Don't be mad at me."
"Fine, go take a shower. Just leave the lipstick in the car. Maybe you'll run into her on the road and can return it to its owner," Umma Liana said.
"Yes, Umma."
Maryam's chatter made Fathan sigh. He went inside to calm himself down.
The village where Grandma Lila lived consisted of five neighboring hamlets. They were close together, separated only by narrow alleys. Three mosques stood there: one in Grandma Lila's neighborhood, and the other two in the central and far-end hamlets.
Residents of the first and second hamlets usually prayed in congregation at the same mosque. When the Maghrib call to prayer echoed through the air, Zaidan walked side by side with Grandma Lila toward the mosque.
"Don't you get tired going back and forth to Grandma's place? You spend so much of your time on the road," Grandma Lila asked softly.
Zaidan had been staying here for nearly two weeks. Ever since his marriage proposal had been rejected, he had been seeking peace. This village offered him an antidote: clear mornings, tranquil dusks, silent nights. They all soothed the wound in his chest.
Although the Al-Fariz family's village was next to this one, Zaidan still had not crossed paths with them. Because of that, he felt fairly at peace here.
"It doesn't even take an hour, Grandma. That's nothing."
"But don't you get tired?"
Zaidan turned to her, his eyes melancholy. "You don't want to let me stay here anymore, Grandma? Just be honest. I really love the atmosphere here. When I'm at home, my thoughts keep returning to that rejected proposal. I feel sorry for Dad and Mom. They must be disappointed too."
Grandma Lila rubbed her grandson's arm. "Grandma's so happy you're staying here for a long time. I'm just afraid you'll feel like a burden."
"A burden? No way."
"Then that's wonderful if you're comfortable here." Grandma Lila's smile blossomed. Zaidan smiled along with her.
"Hey, Zaidan. It's time for the call to prayer. You do the call, okay?" Ustadz Wahid asked as he arrived.
Grandma Halimah pushed her grandson forward. "Yes, you do the call. Grandma misses hearing your voice calling the prayer."
And so Zaidan's voice rang out—clear and melodious, piercing the evening sky. The villagers knew the young man's beautiful voice by heart.