Assalamu'Alaikum Love

Distrusting

Aripine

Destinies.

One simple word that I've heard a lot but never really understood what it means. I know that in this world there is something called destiny. It's just that, sometimes I'm reluctant to take that and acknowledge it as fate. My mind is too simple to sequence an event and relate it to what is called destiny. In my simple brain is everything should have happened that way.

That was before a meeting made me believe in what is called destiny. One encounter that opens my eyes if destiny exists. A meeting that made me understand that God always had a way to teach His servants a lesson. One meeting that made me fall in love, and one meeting that ultimately broke my heart.

“Rif, this afternoon you are not going anywhere ‘kan?” ask papa then. Saturday afternoon at the end of January where the rain falls heavily without knowing the time.

“Night of the week, pa.” answered me who made papa raise an eyebrow while buttoning his shirt arm. I didn't know that papa could put a face like that on his son who was lazing in the afternoon.

“Indeed why Sunday night? Do you want to go on a date on Sunday night? Got a girlfriend just not you.”

“Kok jleb anyway pa,” single and do not have a potential girlfriend at the age of 27, and I do not know that papa even had the heart to use that excuse to make fun of his own son.

“Take papa to the house of Mr. Rashid yes, papa motor is in the workshop. Urgent.”

“Use Arif car only, leave alone.”

“When did you see papa driving the car, Rif? Mbok you if you find a reason that makes a little sense, lah.”

I couldn't help but get up from the sofa and grab the car keys that had just been lying like useless objects on the table next to me. Approaching the neat papa with his shirt and trousers without bothering to change the short cargo pants and polo shirts that I had worn since last afternoon.

“Do not want to change a little more decent clothes, son?” ask papa who again with a mocking tone when I was sitting sweet behind the wheel of the car.

“Who would like to meet with Mr. Rashid is papa, not me. Later Arif wait in the car only.” answered me dismissing while turning on the car engine and forwarding my car to ruamah Pak Rasyid. One of my office colleagues who has visited my house several times to talk about work.

“Yakin? Who knows, I'll see his daughter Rashid. Beautiful you know, Rif.”

Well, in addition to often teased me for not having a partner at the age of 27, papa also not infrequently introduce the daughter of his office friends. Even often papa made an alibi ‘meeting’ to introduce me to the daughter of his colleague. That's why I just laughed blandly when papa said ‘daughters of Mr. Rashid’.

“If you meet later Arif greet him, pa.”

“But if you think Faza is suitable for you, Rif. He's a well-mannered boy and he definitely falls into the criteria of the ideal partner for you. Want papa to introduce?”

“As if papa just know what my ideal partner criteria are like.” again I just laughed blandly before stepping on the brake pedal of my car right next to the gate of a simple house painted light blue. A simple house that looks ordinary but somehow can make me so interested. A comfortable home. My mind while following my father who entered the courtyard of Rashid's house with my eyes after I convinced my father that I was waiting in the car.

And one meeting is sometimes more than enough to impress me. I am not a typical guy who will be sparkling and easily impressed every time I meet a beautiful girl. Like when I met him. No, I mean when I see it.

A red-brick girl with a wide-gray headscarf who had just walked out of the courtyard of Mr. Rashid's house with a green umbrella in her right hand. A girl with a green paddle in the rain that began to fall at the end of January. One meeting, and I was completely blown away with just one meeting.

“Beauty once.” I muttered unconsciously. Followed the girl who was away and walked towards a mosque with my gaze. Is she the daughter of Mr. Rashid who had discussed earlier? If the girl is indeed a girl named Faza, daughter of Mr. Rashid, then for the first time I regretted my decision not to replace my short cargo pants with cloth pants and poloku shirts with shirts.

* * * * *

“Faza? Why are you suddenly asking Faza?” and again one meeting alone was enough to make me disturbed by his figure that I saw at a glance. Ah, I still call it a meeting even though we didn't actually meet.

“Marketing only,”

“If you ask about Faza just out of curiosity, then papa suggest you just find another woman, Rif. Women like Faza do not deserve you to be the object of curiosity.” There was no joke as usual that I heard from papa's answer. And that answer that actually makes my curiosity towards the girl named Faza the prettiest.

“It is not so, pa. Yesterday while Arif was waiting for papa in the car, there was a girl who came out of the house Mr. Rashid.”

“Brick red glamorous girl and grey hijab you mean?”

“Nah, yes.” But in fact my self-esteem and ego as a man could not be so easily lowered just to find out who the young girl I saw was so beautiful under the rain that began to fall that afternoon.

“Lha it's Faza. His daughter is Rashid.”

“Oh, he's working, pa?”

“Not yet, still semester five in semester six.”

Whahuh? And that means I'm fascinated by students who are far below me? That girl named Faza must be really special to the point of being able to make a grown man like me charm her.

“Mau papa introduce?”

“Includes can?” well, maybe I really started obsessing over that Faza girl until I wanted to lower my sky-high self-esteem to agree to papa's offer.

And I think the introduction you're talking about is that I met in person with a girl named Faza like most of the meetings I know about. I really did not expect that the meeting that you meant was the ta’aruf process where me and Faza exchanged data themselves for then I would do a nadzor after Faza agreed to ta’aruf offer that I submitted. A completely foreign term in my ears.

“Faza Aulia, 20 years old, Islamic management student and former student of Darunnajah boarding school in Blora.” Almost an hour more and I just keep looking at a sheet of A4 paper that I received from papa since a week ago but I ignored because I was too busy with my work in the office. There are no photos or anything that can make me make sure that the girl I saw the other day is indeed the girl named Faza who I will meet tomorrow day after tomorrow with om Lukman who became my guardian.

“If one of you doesn't fit, don't go on. No coercion from papa or Pak Rashid.”

But my concern was raised that afternoon, Saturday afternoon in mid-March when me and Lukman came to the family residence of Mr. Rashid. My worries melted and turned to happiness when a man my age walked out of the house with a young girl.

The girl with the gray thumbs and pink hijab I saw the other day. Girl with a green paddle in the rain in January. The girl was indeed the one who had fascinated me unconsciously. But why is his face so sad? Is there anything wrong with visiting me and Lukman so much that the girl looks so sad that she keeps holding her brother's hand throughout our meeting this afternoon?

Again I was too fascinated by Faza and too happy with Mr. Rashid's acceptance of me that I neglected to notice the look on Faza's face that afternoon. I was too happy because my brother, - my call to Mr. Rashid - agreed to my wedding plans with Faza. Ah, let me now still have a little doubt, I believe that as time goes by I will be sure of this girl. But what made me angry at myself was that I neglected to think about Faza's feelings and just kept acting like the girl wouldn't refuse a proposal from a guy like me. My ego and arrogance as a man made me miss the feeling of Faza and not realize that the girl was hurt.

I was too busy with the flowers of love that started to grow in my heart because of Faza that I could not even understand the girl's feelings properly. And as I began to understand Faza's feelings, I realized that I had fallen so deeply in love with the girl.

I admit that I've fallen in love with a young girl who looks so special. I had fallen in love so deeply and in a very natural way even though at first I had doubts about the girl. And when I realized it, I realized two things at once. First because I realized that I loved Faza and I wanted to have him, and secondly I realized that my existence had hurt the girl.

Faza loves another man. That's what I was able to catch from the girl's confession to a man standing in front of her that night. A man I knew, a man I admired, and a man I unconsciously hated because I assumed he had taken my future wife.

“I liked Mr. Gibran even since I first saw the father four years ago in Blora. I already liked the young man I lent an umbrella to four years ago at Cepu station. I like foreign men that even I myself do not know what his name is...” And Faza said it accompanied by a cry that made my chest tight. It hurts so much when I have to see the girl I love crying like that in front of me because of her confession to a man.

“May God always bestow happiness on you and your future husband, my beloved.”

My lover.

Never have I heard of a man saying such a thing to a girl so sincerely, so heartbreaking. The man said it. She recognized my future wife as her lover even after she left my future wife who was still crying so bitterly in the campus parking lot.

She passed before I could tell her that what she was doing had hurt my girl. Ah, who really hurt Faza here? Didn't I hurt the girl first?

So heavy.

It felt like I was being treated to the same fruit when I decided to cancel my wedding plans with Faza. I don't want to let go of the girl and want to keep marrying her, but I don't want to keep hurting her like this either. Unfortunately, I found no other way for me to stop harming Faza other than by letting go.

So heavy.

Once again I saw a tear drop from the corner of Faza's eye as I said I couldn't continue with our wedding plans. Heart's broken. First because I had to let go of my pearl and because I saw my girl crying because of my decision.

“I just want to make you happy, my pearl.”

So hurt.

Obviously it's not the first time I've been heartbroken, but somehow it feels like it's the one that hurts my heart the most so it feels like my heart is going to go numb after this. But isn't this better than torturing Faza by making him my wife and letting him sit in the closet with me while the girl imagines another man to be her husband?

“Faza is getting married, Rif. With his lecturer at campus.”

How I really didn't want the news until my ears. I want Faza to be happy with the man, but I'm not ready to hear the news about their marriage either.

‘If God has made a bet, nothing can separate but death. No matter how hard you try, no matter how much you love and love him, even as sure as you are to him, if God has not betrothed, there is nothing you can do. Resign, Allah will heal your broken heart.’

Not matched.

In fact, even though my heart was broken because of my marriage with Faza, all I could do was move on. Keep muttering that all this happened because Faza and I are not a match. Although it was very heavy when I stepped my foot down from the car and walked towards a house that I had visited several times. Only, this time the atmosphere of the house was different from before. Decorations that have not been dismantled even though it is night enough to make me understand if their wedding is going on smoothly.

“However, congratulations for your wedding.”

If only the one sitting next to the girl was me, what would our first night be like? If only the one sitting beside Faza was not that man, would that girl also be as happy as she was right now?

Ah, again God is making me understand and understand if there are things that I really have to let go even though I actually want to work. Like I let go of Faza even though I actually wanted to grab him. God is teaching me to let go, make my heart sincere and make me breastplate.

“So everything I've been through all this time is in vain?”

There was nothing in vain from my meeting with Faza even though we ended up not getting married. Again God is showing me that if I want to get a girl who is awake like Faza, then I also have to be a decent man to accompany her.

And right now, the most suitable man to accompany a Faza Aulia is indeed only Gibran Wibisana. A man I met three years ago and a man who made me understand that I was nothing compared to him.

Maybe my courage to propose to Faza was greater than that guy's. It's just, I can even feel how much a Gibran Wibisana loves his wife. Then, how could I possibly defeat that man's love for Faza if the feelings he felt had grown over the years? How could I possibly enter through the sidelines of two people who love each other so sincerely?

“May you always be in the protection of Allah, my pearl.”

My pearl.

Let me still regard Faza as my pearl until I find another pearl to replace him. The pearls I will keep forever.

* * * * * Done * * * * *