As soon as Dea entered the room looking for Mr. Surya, she saw two rectangular praying mats had spreaded out there. Dea blinked her eyes as she caught a glass of white milk that had been half drunk on the nightstand. Dea knew Mr. Surya was hiding behind the alley and was secretly observing her. He presented a symbol of love for Dea. Then, she started to put on a set of prayer clothes before sitting neatly on a rectangular praying mat woven with the motif of the Grand Mosque, Masjidil Haram.
Mr. Surya paid attention to Dea who seemed to be waiting for him. He then approached the girl and gave her a simple heartwarming smile. This older man led her, becoming her Imam[1]. They prayed together.
When they finished, she gave his hand a kiss. Dea looked at Mr. Surya shyly while saying very quietly, "Mr. Surya, can you pass the milk, please?" Dea's eyes glanced at the half-filled glass on the nightstand.
Not knowing what really happened, the man who repeatedly exhaled with his mouth as if he was neutralizing himself. Just as the girl gulped down the milk slowly, Surya rubbed his chest repeatedly. Soothing down his rumbling heart.
Dea finished her milk and handed the empty glass back to Surya's hand. Surya looked down at it, asking, "May I make a request?"
"Yes," a short word that summed up the thunderous hearts of two people.
"Call me Surya. So I don't feel like an old man," hearing this, someone smiled.
"I'm sorry .. this is out of habit, so I'm too used to it," said Dea while folding and tidying the white clothes she used to pray earlier. Dea made a request too by moving her hand, signaling him to stand up. To get Surya's praying mat. She tidied and folded everything and then she went to the next room, putting it there.
Now, Surya waited for Dea to come back to the room where he was. He was so nervous but excited at the same time. He walked around the room, thinking about how to relieve his feelings. Atleast to hide it from her.
Dea came out of the other room. Surya watched her. His heart was beating fast. He could only do one action suggested by his best friend. 'Look into her eyes, find your courage. You choose her, as she is choosing you'.
It was true. That advice was so powerful. The girl in the lace dress was hugged tightly by her husband now. Dea and Surya embraced each other, melting their bodies into one. The air was getting warmer. Despite their age gap, he was finally able to claim himself as her soul mate. And now, he was very confident to say that 'tonight is their night'.
.
"Surya?"
"Hmm?"
"Aruna and I will be interning at your office. Wenceslas Group. Is that your doing?"
"Yeah,"
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I want to get to know my wife better. But still, about Lady Aruna's internship, let's hide this from Hendra. It will be a surprise for him."
"Oh okay. I'll tell Aruna,"
"Good, Hendra will definitely like it," someone volunteered his arm to be his wife's pillow.
"To be honest ... Actually I object to doing an internship at your place. Everyone will know that I am a frantic person, easily panicking in many situations. Ah, you know it, right?," Pouting, she didn't agree with what her husband was doing. "Mianhaeyo," she apologized after.
"Saranghae.." Surya's funny voice. He talked nonsense. This was the only word he remembered.
"Eh? That's the wrong answer ... Mianhaeyo means sorry," Dea corrected.
"Saranghamnida ..." Surya didn't care. He only knew this word. Which means I love you.
"Komawoyo ..." Dea blushed, thanking him.
"Saranghae ... Saranghamnida ..." Surya repeated. His accent was terrible, but his movements could make this girl soar. Surya hugged her and kissed her cheek repeatedly.
They joked around for quite a while.
At one point, the man explained his purpose regarding his wife's internship "You know? I don't want to repeat Hendra and Aruna's mistakes. They are caught in a lot of misunderstandings. Because of Mahendra's complicated circumstances and their difficult marriage background. They barely have a chance to get to know each other. I want to get to know you, really know you. I hope you, my wife Dea, is willing to get to know me too.." Surya said to his wife.
Dea nodded.
"Perception is like the taste of food on our tongue. Our tongues consider it delicious when we are accustomed to certain types of food that are much tastier than other types. Likewise, our brains receive goodness based on the habits built in us since childhood," Surya's monologue invites Dea's attention, "Like your sense of cleanliness, it will be different from mine. Also with our perception of 'good'. It could be 'good' for me, but it might not be for you. Your version and level may be different from mine. We have to make it harmonious. So we can get through everything together in a better way.."
Dea nodded, agreeing with Surya's statements. She then tried to build her courage to hug her husband's bare chest. It was a great night for them.
"Ready to try again?" Surya joked.
***
A boring weekend. Hendra's thoughts were left in his mansion with his angry wife. The gate of a luxurious house was opened widely, welcoming Hendra's arrival. The towering door with Javanese carvings has also been opened.
Yet, the door he wanted to enter was not opened. She refused to.That made him worried, extremely uneasy.
'Is this house still unnerved Aruna?'
This heart-wrenching question still tickled his chest. He passed through every door with an uncomfortable feeling. Recalling the memory of his wife in that house. A teasing thought on his mind, when will his wife come here and run along the halls again?
Hendra no longer has the power to force her. Every time he was tempted to do that, he remembered Aruna's writing in her little book. He realized that every human being has their own fear.
.
.
Just as he arrived and sat in the living room, his grandfather came in using his automatic wheelchair. The old man stared at him, making a hand gesture asking him to follow. The pair of grandfather and grandson entered a familiar room. More specifically, his grandfather's office. The first place where he had the courage to hold Aruna's hand, the place where his wife used to be. A girl whose status was now so vague.
"Finish your divorce, so that everything is clear before you take the next step," Wiryo said stiffly.
"Not finish but continue," Hendra sat on the sofa facing his grandfather. This blue eyed man was no longer as tense as he used to be when communicating with Wiryo. He could sit with her back against the sofa, even resting his feet on each other.
"Don't expect too much, you're still so naive. Throw away your torn clothes, which can't be worn, then buy new clothes," said Wiryo who seemed bluntly judging the girl who was troubling his grandson too much.
"My wife is not a clothe, I don't like to hear that. You just need a successor, right? I will make it happen for you," Hendra stood up and left his grandfather.
"Stop!" Wiryo asked.
"I'm here to eat, not to argue with you," Hendra began to be able to control his emotions. From learning how to respect women, he also learned the meaning of respecting elders. Although Wiryo was still his defining character. Stubborn.
.
.
Every disease was believed to have a cure. However, the qualities that made up character needed one to be self-aware. Hendra's axiom saved the relationship with his grandfather.
.
[1]Imam (in Arabic language means leader/ model) in a general sense, one who leads Muslim worshippers in prayer. In a global sense, imam is used to refer to the head of the Muslim community.