The Malang Widow
My success
So long Deri disappeared without news and traces, Uwais began to stop asking for his presence. Maybe he was tired as he grew older.
Entering the 3rd grade Elementary School, he has completed the memorization of the Qur'an up to 30 juz. Following his brother Umar who is still on the way 29 juz and I am very sure will soon follow in the footsteps of his brother.
The melodious voice of the brother in chanting the holy verse makes people often made goosebumps if he is appointed to fill the scripture reading at an official event.
The trace of Deri that he planted taught him to always pray in the mosque he always did with his sister. They were both very familiar and always went to the mosque together. In fact, not infrequently they alternately chant Adhan and Iqomah with a voice that makes the listener goosebumps for sure. They are both very famous in my village with their sweet voice when teaching.
There are some of my neighbors who are amazed at my persistence in providing education to my children. But not infrequently there are also envious to see my success. Defaming myself who is only limited to disguise myself to cover myself who always date other men.
"When are you ready to accept my proposal?". Ask a doctor my partner works at one of the hospitals in my town to beg me. She's a one-child widower who's much younger than me.
A year ago he knew me. To this day, he continues to strive to be my life partner. But somehow my heart has not been dazed to re-knit love with men since my relationship with Deri ran aground. No more passion for me to think about men.
"I'm sorry... You better find another woman... I'm not ready to get married again...". I replied in a slow tone and felt a little unwell.
"When do you want to open your heart to men? I know many people are approaching you... You still can't forget your ex-husband? Or do you have a choice between the people who approach you?". Ask her who seemed to want her feelings so badly anchored to me.
"Not that... I still want to focus on taking care of my kids first...". I answered casually.
"There's really no obstacle for you to take care of your children if you remarry, right?"
"Emmmmm.... Sorry, I have not wanted to share my affection for my three children with men... I beg you to understand...". I tried to subtly refuse.
"Well if you can't open your heart to me... Hope you get the best...". He tried to be heartened.
"Aami... Thank you for understanding, hopefully you can get the best...". Reply with my sweet smile which he immediately replied with a smile no less sweet anyway.
He soon left my clinic. Although he was disappointed in me, he tried to show me his good attitude.
In addition to him, several other men also had it. Trying to get close to me meant to ask me. Not infrequently there are also some ignorant men who just want to try to approach me in a bad way. Either just as a joke, or indeed intend to be rude to me.
My laughter was filled with chatter from a man who tried to seduce me into becoming my husband. Until I get tired of responding to those who sometimes fight indistinctly.
The number of men who come near me is what makes a handful of my neighbors spread slander is not good to me. But this has no effect on me. Since the beginning I became, my teeth have been thick will sneer them.
Even if I never dated a guy not my mahram out there. If anyone sees me, they will come to my clinic where there will be some of my employees who will also supervise the presence of the man who came to see me.
On another land that I bought a year ago, now stands a building where I serve all health needs. Be it outpatient treatment, or hospitalization.
Many people outside were amazed at my actions. My name is famous fragrant in the universe of my regional health workers. Even once upon a time I was called on one of the shows on a private television station to tell my story as the owner of that free hospital.
It's not something that I'm easy to do. Several times I was hit by reprimands from colleagues who felt aggrieved due to the free service I provided. Many health service providers who turned to my hospital to be able to enjoy free facilities of course. But this I can overcome, because there are still many other people who defend me for the effort I do.
***
That night when I just made sure my three children were sleeping in his room right now, there was a phone number that wasn't in my contact. For a moment I looked at the screen of my phone was about to lift but there was a doubt appearing, worried it was from the man who tried to tease me.
For a few minutes I kept my watch ringing incessantly. I tried to accept it, worried that it was from the person who needed me.
"Hallo...?". I said greeting the phone with a slightly troubled heart.
"Hallo mistress Beautiful flowers... Do you remember my voice??". Degs... My heart immediately beat and my hands began to tremble. I still remember and know the voice of the man who was my husband a few years ago. Well, he's none other than Bagas. My first husband used to be handsome but the war was rough.
"You?? What do you need to call me at night?". I asked with suspicious feelings.
"There's nothing... Just want to ask you how you are...". Answer it casually.
"I'm sorry, if there's no urgent need, you better not call me... We are not mahrams, it is not good to speak without a clear purpose and purpose...". My words try to give him understanding.
"Oh... Now you feel the end... Hehe...". His feet were mocked with a small laugh.
"I'm serious. Appreciate women a little...!". I said with a crisp start.
"alright... Alright.... I understand the beautiful Mother Flower... A beautiful woman and a devout Muslim... Hemmm but baby.... The poor widow.... Ahaha!". The words that immediately ended our conversation.
"Huf...". I took a deep breath and put my salary on the bed.
My heart kept wondering why she could suddenly contact me with such obscure sentences. Even though I haven't communicated with him in years since my divorce.
Like this about the appearance of Bagas' face while still being the husband of Bunga who has not migrated to explore religion.
