Hafizah Aulia. Guardian of the verses, beloved of Allah.
That was the meaning of her name. And it seemed as though the universe had entrusted that serenity to a girl who chose silence.
Her face was captivating, with a soothing aura. She did not talk much, yet her presence alone was enough to draw people's eyes. The female boarding-school students often whispered that her face was serene. Even the boarding-school students would lower their gazes when they crossed paths with her.
She had once been cheerful. Now, her smile was rarely seen. Not because she was arrogant. She was simply tired of holding so much pain inside.
Hafizah had been raised by foster parents since she was little. Their life was harmonious, until Aisyah, her younger sister, was born. From that moment on, the neighbors' whispers began to sound like thorns thrown into her yard.
"A bait child." Those two words became a wound she swallowed in silence.
Hafizah had just finished elementary school when Aisyah was born. At such a young age, she had already been able to make a major decision. "Dad, Mom... Hafizah wants to go to an Islamic boarding school."
Not because she was angry. Not because she was disappointed. She simply wanted to find peace, distance herself from the gossip, and draw closer to the Quran.
"Hafizah... you're distancing yourself because of what people say, aren't you?" her father asked, his voice trembling.
Hafizah slowly shook her head. "No, Dad. I just want to properly study the Quran. The boarding school has Quran recitation classes after the dawn prayer."
"But, son, you'll have to live independently there."
"It's okay, Mom. I lived in an orphanage before, too. I'm used to it." Her faint smile concealed her pain. Meanwhile, both her parents' hearts ached. They knew their love for Hafizah would not diminish simply because Aisyah had arrived.
In the end, heavyheartedly, her father and mother escorted Hafizah to the boarding school's gate. Not because they did not love her. Rather, it was because they loved her enough to let her go.
The boarding school welcomed her with its familiar atmosphere. Quran recitation drifted from the mosque's loudspeakers. The scent of wet earth lingered after the rain. Boarding-school students passed to and fro, carrying wudu buckets and stacks of religious texts.
At the gate, her father stroked Hafizah's head. "We're entrusting you here so you can study religion. Remember, son. This doesn't mean your father and mother don't want you anymore."
Her mother hugged her tightly, tears falling down her cheeks. "We'll pick you up once a month, okay? You'll come home with us. Right, Ustadzah?"
"That's right, ma'am. If no one comes to pick her up, the boarding school's bus will bring her home," the Ustadzah replied, her face serene.
Before leaving, Hafizah kissed Aisyah's cheek. "Aisyah, take care of Dad and Mom, okay?"
The two Ustadzahs who witnessed it also shed tears. Hafizah's story was truly unusual. At the age of nine, she had been adopted. And at that same age, she chose to leave in search of peace.
Five years passed. Now Hafizah was in her second year of Aliyah. Her words were gentle, and her manner firm when necessary. For the past two years, she had been trusted to serve on the boarding school's security team. Her duties included inspecting new students' belongings and helping in the communal kitchen owned by Kyai Rahmatullah during haflah celebrations.
Afternoons at the boarding school were always bustling. There was the sound of irons, students reviewing their memorization while hanging out laundry, and plumes of smoke rising from the kitchen stove. And amid all that activity, there was one name that made Hafizah's heart beat faster. Fathan. Kyai Rahmatullah's beloved grandson.