The Pawned Marriage

The Gate of Happiness

POV Nafisa

Here I am, standing in the most expensive bridal clothing boutique in Indonesia.

Getting to the waiting list takes months. Not to Maryam Malik.

In just a matter of days, my future mother-in-law managed to make Bian the famous designer to make several dresses at once.

Especially that afternoon, Bian Boutique was deliberately closed so that I was free to try the beautiful dresses that have been made. There was only one female assistant of her trust and then she prepared everything, from wedding dresses to matching jewelry.

Maryam's mother said, “Honey, there are four dresses that have been designed by Mbak Bian and directly stitched. I take the size of your shirt the rest Brother Bian about himself. Then Mother also has prepared matching jewelry with each dress.”

My eyes and Aurelie were wide. Four Muslim wedding dresses complete with a robe and veil look luxurious in the model. Beside him was a shelf containing jewelry from rings, bracelets, to hood ornaments.

Each dress has a different theme. But everything is decorated with beautiful crystal sprinkles.

“His bridal dress is nicer than it used to be in Mama's closet..” Plain Cetus Aurelie. Her eyes still could not escape from those dresses.

I ruffled her hair and pulled my daughter to sit on her lap.

“Try, Non,” pinta Mbok Mi who came with Mbak Lastri.

Bian, the beautiful designer intervened directly to help me.

The first dress was white, intersecting A-line robe with a sprinkling of flower-patterned crystals.

“Beautiful and very suitable,” exclamation Mbok Mi and Lastri together.

While Aurelie was soaring with pleasure because she thought I was like a princess.

I saw my reflection in the glass. It never occurred to me that I should try on a wedding dress a second time.

Miss Maryam asked me, “You like it?”

“That's a pleasure, Mom. Maa shaa Allah is beautiful.”

“There are still three other options,” said Bian who then invited me to try the second dress.

This time it's nude brown. The material is an alloy of Italian brocade and French chiffon. Soft on the skin.

“Mama, really suitable! Aurelie likes!” He said while clapping.

The designer explained, “Bian makes the pieces simpler because the fabric already looks luxurious. Mmm .. Ma'am Nafisa, it's just us-we're aja, all girls. Can the veil be removed?”

I nodded and slowly removed the veil.

“Yeah, Ma'am. I asked, Is this a person or an angel? Real pretty. Aslik, very cantiiik,” praise Bian while shaking his head.

“Beauty, fine, pinter, and most importantly sholihah my mantuku's candidate.” Maryam looked at Nafisa with affection.

Aurelie hugged me with a big smile.

“Mama me ..”

Bian still shook his head in admiration.

“Yes, Non, pack shy. Red cheeks. Add ayu, je. Mr. Zayn is really interested in the lottery,” added Lastri, his eyes are sincere.

My face is getting red to hear what Madam Lastri said.

That was the day, preparing for my marriage for the second time.

Still can hardly believe that I'm getting married to Mr. Zayn Malik. My employer.

Like the story in the novels I read with the title ‘Married to Empikan’ or ‘My Maid is Beautiful Once.’ That kind.

After several tries I finally chose a nude wedding dress.

Because Miss Maryam insisted on having two parties, my future in-laws chose the white wedding dress that I tried first.

I'll wear a white dress for the wedding and one for the party.

“Bu, Mubazir dong the other two.”

Bian replied, “Don't worry, Ma'am. Two of these dresses I taro in medsos with alternative caption choice of wedding dress prospective wife Zayn Malik, immediately sold at a price of 300 percent.”

“Wis ora to think about. You just prepare yourself. Now we go to the spa. Mbok Mi and Lastri followed the treatment as well. Aurelie also want to go to the spa?”

“Yes!” Excite them in unison.

Miss Maryam has chosen a bridal package for me complete with outstretches and hundreds.

I cannot imagine how I will be able to serve Mr. Zayn while this heart has not been tethered. Not to mention if the shadow of sexual violence crosses.

I hope that if the time comes for Mr. Zayn to ask for his right, then I won't act like a madman.

***

PoV Nafisa's

“I received marriage and marriage Nafisa Salsabila with dowry money worth one hundred million rupiah, cash.”

“Sah!”

“Sah!”

I squeezed my finger when I saw Mr. Zayn, my husband finished making a sacred promise.

The usually sharp jet netra was now staring gently at me. Aurelie and Milo each hugged me from the side.

Steadily he stepped closer.

“Nafisa.” Hand stretched.

My heart is beating hard. Doubtful to welcome until I feel a soft touch on my arm.

“Nak, greet your husband,” whispered Miss Maryam.

“Stop!” Suddenly Milo was getting a nod between me and Mr. Zayn.

“Oom Promise will take care of Mama and will never make Mama cry?”

Everything in the room was broken. Moreover, I have always tried to hide the pain in the heart. Didn't expect Milo to know my sadness.

Mr. Zayn sat on both knees, leveling the height of the three-year-old boy who now has a waistline.

“Promise, Oom uh, Daddy will take care of Mama with all his heart. In shaa Allah.”

Milo looked at Mr. Zayn earnestly and then finally nodded.

“Mama, do I call Daddy now?” he asked in a whispering tone while raising his head towards me.

Everyone smiled at the behavior of my youngest child.

“Daddy or Papa?” I asked back.

“Daddy aja. Kan Milo already has Papa,” whispered again.

Mr. Zayn extended his hand back to me and we finally touched for the first time.

After that he placed his right hand on my forehead while reciting the prayer that was being chanted.

"Allahumma inni as'aluka min khoirihaa wa khoirimaa jabaltahaa 'alaih. Wa a'udzubika min syarrihaa wa syarrimaa jabaltaha 'alaih. O God, I ask You for His goodness and the good that You have set upon him. Aamiin.”

Then Mr. Zayn, my husband, kissed. I felt these two hands kneaded gently. Grateful this veil managed to close the nervousness and doubt that still resides in my heart.

After that, he took me to sungkem to Maryam's mother.

My mother-in-law was moved when Zayn kissed her knee. Hugged his only son tightly.

When it was my turn, he cupped both his hands to my face.

“Thank you, thank you for giving a happy day to Mom.”

Then Mom hugged me tight too.

Honestly, this marriage is like a dream. Not because I craved it but because it was never sharpened in my head if it would finally be with Zayn Malik.

The man next to me stood tall and strong. His face is bright.

When I was in Yogya, I almost never saw him smile. But today Mr. Zayn laughed.

My hands are still held. Proud to introduce me to his close family.

Having all the complexities and problems that often go viral in the virtual world, I am grateful that Malik's extended family still accepts me with open arms.

From a distance I saw Mikail Malik sitting alone. His eyes are staring at me.

To him I nodded briefly. He also retaliated. Mr. Zayn noticed and immediately wrapped his hands around my waist.

“I love you, Nafisa.” So said. Her lips kissed my head.

I stared fixedly at the once unreachable handsome face. He looked back at me, the back of his hand touching the face that was still covered with a veil.

“Beauty you only have me. Never take off this veil other than for me.”

Then he hugged me. Some guests cheered and made me blush.

He whispered again, “I like to look at your shy eyes. Honey, I made you fall in love.”

***

POV Nafisa

The reception was held on the same day at a well-known hotel.

The concept of ‘Taman Bunga’ successfully translated in an amazing decoration. Not fancy or excessive, but beautiful and beautiful.

My kids look at it. Me included.

Mbok Mi whispered, “Then the same time as Madam Val, not until soon after Mother Sepuh intervened. May the lasting continue yes, Non.”

“Aamiin ..” Bisikku.

“Honey, we go upstairs for a break and get ready for the reception. Aurelie and Milo too, yuk.”

I'm nodding. Again he reached out to hold. Kutepis hesitated and as soon as he grabbed my hand, grasped it tightly.

Mother prepared a penthouse room for us.

Mr. Zayn took me to my room.

“I help you release the game and wear casual clothes first.”

My breath jerks.

“Why, shy, yes?”

He pulled and wrapped his hands around my waist. Want to not want my hand now stuck to his chest.

It seems like my net really shone with fear or doubt until finally Mr. Zayn kissed my forehead and said, “Yes you've cleaned up, I wait here.”

“Sorry, Sir. I ...”

”It’s okay. Why do you still call me Father?

“Oh yes, sorry. Habits. What do you want to call him?” I said with a garbled sentence between mind and mouth.

Zayn. Our faces are so close. My chest feels tight.

“Mas? I always wanted to be called Mas if I had a wife.”

“Ready, I call it, Mas from now on.”

“Still ‘saya’ now? Not yet wanted ‘aku’ .. hemm?”

His hands grew so tight that our bodies stuck together.

“I .. I uh, yes, Mas.”

Zayn smiled at the incredible nervousness. Slowly she opened my veil.

His eyes are breaking.

“Can I ask for first kiss?”

Knee limp. But now I am his. Everything in my body is my husband's right.

I calmed myself and nodded.

Gently, her lips pressed against my lips. At first it just stuck then he started cupping both his hands to my face.

This heartbeat's been fucked up. I have to hold his shoulder to stand. A gesture translated as surrender by my husband.

Her lips began to mat my lips. My eyes were closed, my mind and heart still could not enjoy.

My husband stopped when someone knocked on the door.

“Mama, this is Milo. What else?”

Half relieved, I unraveled our lips and hurriedly opened the door.

“Ya, Dear.”

“Tickness, same bobber insider Mama.”

Bungkuku directly ask for a sling.

“Milo here alone, I rest in the next room,” said Zayn. Before he came out he kissed my head.

I put Milo on the bed and the boy went straight.

***

PoV Zayn's

The clock indicates three-quarter o'clock. Adzan's voice echoed from the hape. I just finished taking ablution when I heard someone knocking on the door.

“Mas, this is Nafisa. Prayer with yuk.”

I opened the door and there was my Nafisa. With hair dyed to the top that actually accentuates her beauty. This Netra will not escape from him.

“Mas,” call him in a timid tone.

“Oh yes. The first time we prayed, yes.”

He's nodding. We prayed with all the families present at the marriage contract, so only this time we will perform compulsory worship together.

“Nafisa in, yes,” he said again. He headed to the suitcase, picked it up and spread it facing the qibla.

“Yuk, Mas.”

I saw he was wearing mukena.

The first time I became a prayer priest for my wife. No tears should flow and rush me.

After we finished praying and Nafisa kissed the back of my hand.

“So I've had hot water and ordered pastries. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

Stunned, that's how I heard my wife's question. During her marriage to Valerie, she never took care of me like Nafisa just did.

I also consider it normal. There's an army of assistants working on it.

But when Nafisa just put the prayer mat or offer a drink, this heart soars.

“Mas..”.

“Eh yes, Mas want coffee. Roll ...”

“Two, do not use milk, continue to use vanilla powder, right? Nafisa tau, really. I also have vawa vanilla powder from home,” he said as he rushed out to prepare a drink for me.

Kusul him. I saw in her room Aurelie and Milo were sleeping well.

Nafisa's been busy concocting coffee and I hugged her from behind. Kuciumi his neck and cheeks.

I know I shouldn't be acting this fast against a woman with trauma. That was Doctor Yuni's message, but what power, Nafisa is like a magnet to me.

My wife did not refuse, but did not respond warmly to my kiss or touch.

Surprisingly, I don't mind. I'll wait for him to be ready to accept me.

The End of PoV

***