The Best Choice

Brother!

...“Get your angel before God closes the door.”...

^^^Asma Nadia, Hijab Traveler — Love Sparks In Korea.^^^

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Aslan receives a bouquet of wedding flowers from Samira at the end of their meeting. One or two sentences Samira said softly, embarrassedly, in the bow of her head as they first met beside Harviza who patiently accompanied the pain of two hearts parting at the intersection.

Aslan smiled and nodded without saying a word, not looking for words to say or a promise to meet again or a wedding invitation that Samira had to come later. He did not want to hurt Harviza who was already in the chest to accept his honesty. Everything was clear enough for him, Samira's prayers would flow continuously for him.

Aslan said goodbye with a nod of his head along with Samantha. Whether Robby went where, Aslan did not think. Until the show was over, it was already an hour late. Robby's not coming. Stupid time with his men who turned out to have to relax at the tire patchworker with his wife who had faded the charm of his make up.

Aslan stared at the beauty of Samira one last time from afar. Then looked down at the bouquet of white roses in bloom. He realized it wasn't easy to hold him back, he was injured. But it is far better for him who is hurt than for parents who have given life values longer.

"Make you, Sam." Aslan.

Samantha widened her eyes, she accepted it hesitatingly as she clenched it. Smell the scent of the former bride and groom with fun.

"May we spread marriage. Even if when does not know, the important intention first."

And if one day it happens, Aslan believes, it happens when he really releases Samira sincerely.

Aslan gets into his car, he drives Samantha to Mustofa's house to pick up her belongings before dashing out onto the highway. Forgetting the route she had always liked before the figure she wanted in filling her dreams incarnated into memories. He should let go.

The man had raised the flag of defeat and his days had turned grey. But love was around him, the news spread to his parents even Ahmad's grandfather. They accompanied Aslan as if the man was dying.

***

Samira twirled the ring that had not even been even a day pinned Harviza on her. For half a tiring day they had just been able to rest. Completely rest after a day they serve invited guests to chat and meet.

Harviza knocked on the door from outside after conversing with Mustofa for a while.

Harviza pushed the door. Samira lowered her head. He was not used to the presence of men in his life even though he was Harviza. College days separate him, Samira has no idea what trip Harviza took.

The awkwardness was evident from the way they were together in the room. But Harviza who could succumb to the circumstances pulled Samira's work chair and occupied it.

"How are you doing now?" ask Harviza.

"What is it, brother?" Samira looked at his hand while occasionally glancing at Harviza.

"You're the same me, Samira. How are we gonna do this now? Want to sleep apart? Sleep on the wedding bed, or tell me what you want." Harviza let her make a sound. Samira's decision he can accept. Like Samira's refusal earlier when she wanted to help her remove her bridal hijab.

Samira squeezes the tip of her hijab. It is difficult to decide something when the sense of geroginya must go hand in hand with responsibility.

"Can. Frankly, it's so much better than I seem to force you to love me."

"I'm again sister's business!" sahut Samira's. "Wait, be patient." she asked me gently.

"Keep, don't you ask me when I started loving you, Sam?"

"started?" Samira grunts. "Silver obviously loved me a long time ago, maybe." She ventured to look at her husband who was still sitting in his chair comfortably.

Harviza wears long black pajamas pants and home shirts. Fresh after the shower. Samira believes, many who like Harviza because of the good looks and piety that in the yearning for girls handsome husband addicts and experts heaven.

Harviza was sure Samira's gaze was a curious look. He yawned, drowsy, his whole body ached. His eyes were staring at his wedding bed. It feels like imagining being able to lay down there is so good.

His body moved, Harviza stretched his body. Tower one meter in front of Samira.

"Can you sleep?"

Samira immediately prepared the pillow that Harviza used, then because there is only one new bed cover that is the same color as the sheets he prayed tomorrow when he opened the wedding gifts given by friends in his village and other invited guests, there is a new blanket so there is no need to wrestle with Harviza even though tonight he was forced to share a blanket.

Harviza had laid down her body, she had long been waiting for the right time to share a story about her heart. But before he told me, he had already put a roll beside him as if it were his holy limit.

"Sleep, Samira. It's ten o'clock, wait for what you are. Want tahajud?"

"Wait for my sister to sleep first." replied Samira.

Harviza grimaced, she would never sleep first on their first night. She wants to admire the beauty of her bride freely under the sleeping lights which makes her more intimate enjoy it.

"I've loved you ever since I found out, you're the one who loves to cry, I like to say I'm ignorant and like to tell me to stay away from you quietly often write all my behavior in your little purple diary."

Samira. SMP, he remembered, remember once the things that happened when all the turmoil of his teenage years began to grow and only in the little purple diary book he told me about the figure of Harviza in the little diary that disappeared somewhere.

Samira lost power, not daring to stare at Harviza the slightest item. He crept under the bed cover slowly like a caterpillar wanting to hide.

"Night sister." Samira. Want to not want Harviza chuckled amusedly.

"Don't forget, we'll see Samira again at dawn."

"Yes." Yeah."

"Don't forget the shampoo."

"SISTER!"

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