"Jamila, even though I can no longer touch you, I will still wait for you."
A cold wind scented with musk brushed against Laras's ear, carrying the ethereal message. The young woman merely smiled and no longer felt the urge to search for him as she once had.
Her heart was now fully devoted to her husband and their real life. She would not waver again at Zahir's temptations of wealth and power. Their worlds were too different, and the happiness Laras sought existed only in the here and now. Feeling ignored, Zahir gave a bitter smile before vanishing into thin air.
Ya Allah, only to You do I ask for help, Laras whispered in her heart.
She had endured enough pain, fear, and anxiety from being entangled in that illusory other world. She saw only Raka as the best man for her and refused to let her heart falter again.
"My lovely, come here! The body of the man who drowned has been placed in the bier and is about to be taken to the mosque." Mrs. Restu sudden call from the living room pulled Laras out of her reverie. The beautiful woman quickly walked over to her mother-in-law.
They peeked from behind the curtain while keeping the front door closed to avoid curious neighbors. As expected, several women had entered the front yard of their rented house.
They called out Laras's name, but she remained silent, having no desire to gossip. From behind the curtain, Laras spotted Kiai Jaffar and her husband among the pallbearers.
Her clear eyes then landed on a strikingly familiar figure within the group. The man wore a koko shirt, sarong, and kopiah. Laras's eyes widened in shock as the figure stepped forward to lead the group in zikr and selawat.
"Did I see that right?" Laras muttered, rubbing her eyes with both hands.
"What did you say, sweetie?"
"Mom, look at the one leading the prayers."
Mrs. Restu observed the man carefully but saw nothing unusual.
"That's Ustaz Hamdan, the Kiai's son. Oh, right, you probably haven't met him yet. He must be home for the holidays."
"Where has he been all this time, Mom?"
"He's been teaching in Turkey."
Laras listened to her mother-in-law's explanation while her eyes followed Ustaz Hamdan's every movement. A small part of her wanted to call out to Zahir, just to confirm whether what she was seeing was truly the Kiai's son.
But she knew better. Calling that jinn would only invite trouble again. It was better to wait for her husband. Raka would explain everything in detail.
"Oh, sweetie. Aren't you going to the market?"
"There are still vegetables in the fridge that I haven't cooked yet, Mom."
"I want to make capcay. Do we have the ingredients?"
"I think so. Let me check. If not, I'll run to the shop later."
"Just cook with what we have, sweetie."
The two women walked together toward the back of the house. Laras opened the refrigerator and froze in surprise at how full it was with various ingredients.
She couldn't remember when she had last gone shopping. The last time she recalled buying only tempeh, tofu, and a few bundles of vegetables. Not this much.
"Jamila, I brought these for you, my love," Zahir whispered into her ear. But the whisper no longer reached her. Ever since Kiai Jaffar had given her the special protective prayer, Zahir's voice had grown faint.
"Sweetheart, it's completely stocked. I can make capcay then."
"Yes, Mom. We haven't cooked much these past few days, so we still have plenty of ingredients," Laras replied, assuming Raka had done the shopping.
She carried some vegetables while Bu Restu took chicken and eggs. Once in the kitchen, they began cooking together.
"I'll peel some mango and papaya for dessert, Mom."
"Sounds good, sweetie. Go ahead. I'll finish the capcay."
Laras returned to the fridge, took out three mangoes and a papaya, then peeled and cleaned them. After cutting the fruits into pieces, she arranged them neatly on a serving plate and covered it with a food dome.
She placed the plate on the dining table and returned to the kitchen to help her mother-in-law.
"Assalamu'alaikum!"
Raka's greeting and the sound of the front door opening echoed through the house. Laras parted the curtain of the middle room.
"Wa'alaikumussalam. You're home alone, honey?"
"Yeah, the Kiai went straight back. His son arrived earlier."
Raka headed to the bathroom and closed the door.
"Darling, can you get me some clothes? I'll shower now," he called while pouring water over himself.
"Hold on, I'll grab them," Laras replied, quickly running to the bedroom and returning with a fresh set of clothes.
She knocked on the bathroom door. Raka opened it slightly and took the clothes from her.
The door closed again. Soon after, the sound of Raka humming mingled with the splashing water. Laras smiled happily. It was a clear sign that her husband was in good spirits.
"Sweetheart, should I prepare another side dish?"
"No need, Mom. Raka came home alone. The Kiai went back with his son."
"See? Just like I told you. That was Ustaz Hamdan."
Laras only smiled and followed her mother-in-law into the kitchen to help prepare breakfast—a routine she had almost forgotten while she was lost in Zahir's temptations.
"Naudzubillah min dzalik!" Laras exclaimed, wiping her face with her hand.
"What's wrong, darling?" Raka asked, suddenly standing beside her and picking up a piece of papaya.
Laras turned, startled, and smiled sheepishly. She hadn't even noticed him approaching. Then something occurred to her.
"Oh, right. Darling, when did you buy all the ingredients in the fridge?"
"Didn't you do the shopping before we went to Mom's house two days ago?"
"I don't remember shopping at all."
Raka shook his head at his wife's confusion. Meanwhile, Laras racked her brain, trying to recall when she could have bought everything—especially the items that were only available at the supermarket.
There was only one name that came to mind for these strange occurrences, the jinn who had never truly left her side.
"Honey, was that the Kiai's son in the funeral procession earlier?"
"You saw him?"
"Yes, with Mom. She's the one who told me who he was."
"He caught up with us. The santri dropped him off right as the procession was about to leave."
Their conversation about the Kiai's son continued through breakfast. Raka spoke enthusiastically about his childhood friend. It turned out he and Ustaz Hamdan were born in the same month and year.
"You two must have been really close, huh?" Laras asked while wiping the dining table and stacking the dirty dishes.
"They were like twins, sweetheart," Mrs. Restu chimed in.
Laras nodded and headed to the kitchen to wash the dishes. When she returned to the dining area, Raka spoke again.
"Oh, by the way, Ustaz Hamdan will stop by later. He wants to meet you, darling. He couldn't make it to our wedding."
"Alhamdulillah, I'll finally get to meet the Kiai's son," Laras said warmly. Meeting him would also let her confirm what she had seen.
Not long after, a greeting and knock sounded at the front door. Raka stood up immediately—he knew it was his friend. He walked over and opened the door.
"Wa'alaikumussalam Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh. Alhamdulillah, I finally made it."
"Of course you did. I even brought a gift for you two."
"Thank you so much, Ustaz. Please come in!"
Ustaz Hamdan stepped inside and took a seat. A neatly wrapped gift in a large plastic bag was placed on the table. Raka quickly went to find Laras, who was preparing drinks for their guest in the middle room.
"It's fine, sweetie. Let Mom make the drinks. Come out quickly so you can meet the Kiai's son."
"Alright, Mom. I'll head over now."
The couple walked to the front room. When they arrived, Ustaz Hamdan was examining their wedding photo on the wall.
"Ustaz, this is my wife," Raka said, patting his taller friend's shoulder.
"Assalamu'alaikum," Laras greeted, pressing her palms together in front of her chest.
Ustaz Hamdan turned around. In that instant, both of them—who had never met before—froze in shock.
"You're Jamila?"
"Zahir?"
Raka stood stunned, watching the two of them greet each other with names that sounded all too familiar to him.