Ramadhan Imamku (Accomplishing the Love of Allah)

Trying In Taste

The sky seemed to understand what Khansa was feeling at this moment, the clouds clustered together to form thick black clumps. Herding the entire pain to melt, making it a rainy event. The rain that would quietly spill all its water onto the earth. Shedding all his burdens and pains just like that in order to become free, loose.

“If you want to put it out in a cry, just overflow Khansa, let's just say that I and Fitria are not here,” The voice of the man who had been his best friend since childhood now disperse his daydreams about rain.

Khansa who just an hour ago awakened, The soul who had just tried to fuse with the cold wind that brought the rain, was again scattered by a statement.

"Why love always ends up hurting me Azka, Hilal impregnates Yuta and marries him, then leaves me. And now, I've lost my son, and now I'm losing my husband. Only you never hurt me Azka, only friendship never hurt her best friend."

"Muhosha ...." Azka's voice now sounded raucous.

"Sa, it's not good to talk like that," Fitria who had been silent earlier, had to take part in the conversation. Fitria this time already felt if the friend began to rake out of his path.

"Is this a reward for me for always defying Abah and Umi first huh?" khansa again.

"Khansa, if your sister Aisha is heard of the words that you have uttered like this. I'm sure he'll be very sad. Please, don't say words like the desperate Khansa. I've felt it before, and I'm sorry. You still have us, we'll always support you with Ramadan, no matter what." Fitria stared fixedly at Khansa's eyes which seemed to have been seen a radiance of despair.

The tears were now spilled, Khansa covering her face using both of her palms. It is clear if Azka wants to touch the tiny hand that is in need of power. However, Azka's brain was still thinking straight. He undoes his intention, only a glance and a bejibun sirat questions visible from the eyes of Fitria who looked at him.

"I hate farewells" Khansa can only monologue in the heart.

"Whatever happens, let there be no thought of parting Khansa. Even if I loved you from childhood, I was the one who would be most sad and disappointed if you got divorced with Ramadan." Azka's hands clenched behind her body, enduring all the pain. Lying requires a lot of energy.

Fitria moved from her seat, approaching Khansa who was still bowed languidly in tune with her withered heart.

"Khansa, it's Friday. Soon Azka must be Friday. Well, what if we go home to you, we keep cooking chicken opor that was once special you masakin for Ramadan?"

"Why suddenly go to cook? You want to eat chicken opor? Or maybe you're the same as Hafiz?" asked Azka who was not inexhaustible with the idea of Fitria which he thought was more towards nyeleneh.

"Begin, begin, already rich netizens aja your thoughts Azka," Fitria looks annoyed with Azka's unfounded thinking.

"Akh-yeah Fitria, this morning brother Ramadhan had a chance to talk. If he's the same food that the hospital gives him, that's it. There was no energy, and I also agreed to cook at home and bring it here" Khansa said with sparkling eyes.

"Khansa, but you're still lemes. You just fainted earlier," a worried stroke also emanated from Azka's face.

"What Azka is, I am strong. Please, take me with Fitria to the supermarket for a while well, make a shopping. All you Friday prayers in the cottage or in the mosque, 'kan deket. Well, yeah, yeah?"

Azka's eyes glanced towards Fitria. However, the same seduction also rose from the woman. Azka couldn't do much. He chose to take Khansa and Fitria shopping, then continued his Friday prayers at the mosque.

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