1.1 The Betrothal Plan
Rizky was an only child. His father, Ismail, and his mother, Annisa, were well-respected figures in their community. In one of Indonesia's many cultural traditions, parents are often referred to by the name of their firstborn child, with Pak or Bapak (a respectful term for men, similar to "Mister" or "Sir") and Bu or Ibu (meaning "Madam" or "Mrs.") for women.
However, in some regions, mothers may also be called Mak or Mamak, depending on family customs. Because of this, Ismail and Annisa were commonly known as Pak Rizky and Ibu Rizky among their neighbors. For clarity, their real names—Ismail and Annisa—will be used throughout this story.
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That morning, in their modest home, the rich aroma of black coffee brewed by Ibu Annisa filled the air. Pak Ismail sat on a wooden chair by the window, occasionally sipping his coffee while reading the newspaper. On the table, remnants of breakfast remained untouched, but his thoughts seemed to drift far away.
"Bu, I'm going to visit a friend for a while, okay?" Pak Ismail said casually, folding the newspaper on his lap.
From the kitchen, where she was tidying up the dishes, Ibu Annisa turned around with a raised eyebrow. "A friend? Which friend, Pak?" she asked suspiciously.
Pak Ismail smiled slightly. "You know, Nabila's father. He was my best friend back in the day."
Ibu Annisa's hand froze as she wiped a plate. Her eyes narrowed sharply. "Hmm… why do I feel like something is off?" she muttered, her tone full of suspicion. "Don't you dare lie to me, Pak." A wife's instincts are rarely wrong, you know!
Pak Ismail chuckled, but his gaze slightly avoided his wife's piercing eyes. "How do you always know what I'm thinking, Bu?"
Ibu Annisa placed the plate down a little louder than necessary and crossed her arms over her chest. "Of course I do. We've been together for years. I know you inside and out, Pak."
Pak Ismail scratched his head, though it wasn't actually itchy. "Well… I was thinking about arranging a match between Rizky and Nabila," he admitted softly.
Ibu Annisa's eyes widened. "Tsk, tsk, tsk… This is just like you, Pak. Always going off somewhere without discussing it with me first." She shot him a sharp look. "You do remember that Rizky isn't just your son, right? He's mine too!"
Pak Ismail fell silent for a moment, then gave a sheepish smile. "You're right, Bu. I got too excited and forgot to tell you first. I'm sorry."
Ibu Annisa let out a long sigh before turning away, her face clearly annoyed. "You're already making me upset this early in the morning, Pak!"
Seeing his wife sulking, Pak Ismail quickly stepped closer and wrapped an arm around her. "I'm really sorry, Bu," he whispered gently. "I never meant to ignore you. I honestly just forgot."
Ibu Annisa let out a soft sigh. "Hmph, you never change, Pak…"
Pak Ismail grinned mischievously. "Didn't you say you know me inside and out? But here you are, still getting upset. Doesn't that mean you don't fully understand me yet?"
Her Initial annoyance melted into embarrassment. "Ugh, stop it, Pak!" she huffed, her cheeks slightly flushed.
Pak Ismail leaned in teasingly. "Hmm… but deep down, you're happy, aren't you?"
Ibu Annisa threw him a shy glance before pretending to busy herself tidying up the table. "Alright, enough, enough! Just go already before it gets too late."
Chuckling, Pak Ismail grabbed the motorcycle keys hanging near the door. "Alright then, I'm off."
Just as he was about to step outside, Ibu Annisa walked over and gently held his hand. "Be careful on the road, Pak."
Pak Ismail smiled warmly, cupping his wife's hand and kissing it with affection. "I will, Bu. Assalamu'alaikum."
Assalamu'alaikum, meaning "May peace be upon you," is a traditional Islamic greeting, often exchanged between Muslims as a prayer for safety and blessings.
"Wa'alaikumsalam," she responded, returning the prayer with its customary reply, which means, "And may peace be upon you too."
1.2 Annisa's Restlessness
Ibu Annisa stood at the doorway, watching her husband's departure with mixed emotions. She knew that he only wanted the best for their son, but still—an arranged marriage was not something that could be decided by one party alone.
She let out a long sigh and stepped back into the house. Her mind began to fill with questions—what if Rizky refused? What if Nabila disagreed? Or, perhaps… what if they had already developed feelings for each other without even realizing it?
A small smile played on her lips. Maybe, this would be the beginning of a new chapter in their family's story.
In Rizky's family, decisions like this were usually discussed together. Even though Rizky came from a well-off family, he was raised with simplicity. His father never spoiled him with luxury, and his mother had always taught him that life's values were about more than just wealth.
But would Rizky accept this arrangement?
1.3 Nabila
On the other side of the city, Nabila was busy training a group of dancers in her university's auditorium. As a dance instructor and an outstanding student, she was known as the campus flower—not just for her beauty, but also for her intelligence and cheerful personality.
However, behind her bright smile, Nabila had one weakness.
Whenever she was around someone she secretly liked, she would suddenly become shy and awkward.
"Alright, let's try it again from the beginning," she said, clapping her hands as a cue for the music to start.
The dancers moved gracefully, following the rhythm of Ranup Lampuan, a traditional Acehnese dance that carried deep cultural and symbolic meaning. More than just a performance, Ranup Lampuan was a gesture of respect and hospitality, reflecting the warm and noble spirit of the Acehnese people. The dance symbolized sincerity, welcome, and the beauty of tradition—each movement carefully crafted to express grace and reverence.
Yet, as the music played and the dancers moved in harmony, Nabila's mind drifted elsewhere. She had no idea that far away, a decision had been made—one that would change her life forever.
1.4 The Marriage Arrangement
A serious conversation was taking place in Nabila's home.
"Yes, yes, what's wrong with arranging a marriage between our children? Isn't that right, Pak Ismail?" said Pak Anwar with a broad smile.
"Absolutely, Pak Anwar. They seem like a good match," Pak Ismail responded enthusiastically.
However, on the other side of the room, Ibu Nuraini's expression was less than approving. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and faint creases appeared on her forehead—a clear sign that she did not entirely agree.
"But they don't even know each other yet, Pak. Shouldn't we introduce them first before discussing something as serious as this?" she said, her tone restrained.
Pak Anwar chuckled. "Ah, no need for that, Bu. Love will grow naturally over time. Isn't that right, Pak Ismail?"
Pak Ismail laughed along. "That's right, Pak Anwar. Our own experience proves that, doesn't it?"
At that, Pak Anwar and Pak Ismail exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. The room filled with their cheerful energy. But in the corner, Ibu Nuraini shifted uncomfortably. She turned her face slightly away, trying to hide the storm of emotions swirling inside her.
There was a mix of emotions on Ibu Nuraini's face—frustration, sadness, and a faint trace of happiness as memories of her own arranged marriage surfaced. Yet, deep down, she believed that children today should have the freedom to choose their own partners.
Pak Ismail glanced at Ibu Nuraini, trying to gauge her reaction. He raised his eyebrows slightly, signaling Pak Anwar.
Noticing the cue, Pak Anwar turned to his wife, a small amused smile forming on his lips. He found her sulking expression both endearing and predictable.
"So, what do you think, Pak Anwar?" Pak Ismail asked, steering the conversation back on track. "Shall we plan the walimah for next month?"
In Islamic tradition, walimah refers to the wedding banquet—a feast held to celebrate the marriage and announce it publicly. More than just a gathering, it is considered an act of Sunnah, symbolizing joy and gratitude while inviting blessings upon the couple.
"No need to wait that long, Pak Ismail. It's not good to leave my daughter in uncertainty for too long. How about next week instead?" Pak Anwar suggested eagerly.
Pak Ismail nodded slowly. "Hmm… that's actually a good idea. I also believe that the sooner, the better."
"Pak…!" Ibu Nuraini suddenly interjected, her voice firm. "Our daughter is still in college. Do you really expect her to abandon her studies just to get married?"
Pak Anwar let out a light sigh, trying to reassure his wife. "Oh, that's an easy matter, Bu. Nabila can continue her studies after marriage. What's important is making it official first. It's better to prevent any unwanted situations, don't you think?"
Pak Ismail chimed in. "That's right, Bu. I'm worried too. Rizky is still young—what if he stirs up trouble and embarrasses the family?"
Pak Anwar smiled in relief. "Next Sunday, the 15th, is an auspicious day. Let's hold the walimah then."
Pak Ismail nodded in agreement. "Alright then. I'll inform Rizky so he can start preparing everything."
He then stood up, straightening his clothes. "Well then, I'll take my leave now, Pak Anwar, Ibu Nuraini."
"Wa'alaikumsalam," Pak Anwar replied while shaking Pak Ismail's hand firmly.
"Wa'alaikumsalam," echoed Ibu Nuraini, though her tone still carried a trace of reluctance.
As Pak Ismail stepped outside, Pak Anwar stole a glance at his wife. He could only offer a small, hopeful smile, trusting that time would eventually soften her hesitation.
Yet, deep within Ibu Nuraini's heart, an unspoken question lingered—how would their children react when they heard about this decision?