Virgin Widow
Epscreen.13

Thankfully, Zaid did not faint, but his body was difficult to move. I held his arm and helped lean into the guest chair. A few minutes we were silent, while our bodies were very close. Zaid took my hand and kissed her. My blood rippled, my heart pounding, anxiety and confusion with Zaid's attitude made my face go numb.

“Thank you, Sah,” Zaid breaks the silence. I still can't believe Zaid touched me back. Anger instantly changes the fear of loss. Is this called love?

The touch at the wrong time, when he was weak just dared to touch me. All the mixed feelings in my head made me almost forget that Zaid needed treatment and had to be taken to the hospital immediately.

I left Zaid who was still weak, rushing to ask the next-door neighbor for help, because I would not be able to lift his body alone. Luckily we were surrounded by very good neighbors, helping each other in distress, and even giving each other in kindness.

Siti Rahma Hospital became the main destination, because the distance of our house located at By Pass Km 3 Padang is closer to there. Zaid was taken straight to the IGD room, some nurses tried to calm me down.

Zaid was worried, but I found it harder to control the feeling and rumbling in my chest after Zaid kissed my hand. Lest that's Zaid's last impression of me.

“Mother wait outside yes. Husband Mom will be fine, doctor will try his best.” The nurse I was with kept trying to strengthen with a smile before closing the IGD room door.

The white paint on the door blocked the eye so I couldn't look at Zaid from the outside.

“Yes Allah, what more ordeal is this? Strengthen and strengthen me, Yes Rabb.”

I began to fear the loss of Zaid, tears began to trickle down to the creek. I don't want a divorce from Zaid, my mind whimpers. I am in love with Zaid.

My mother and father-in-law came in when I was still sobbing and could not control my emotions, my crying became more and more when Mom immediately embraced my trembling body.

“Sabar, Hafsah, everything we leave to God.” Mother's embrace is getting tighter, there is calmness that radiates to the heart. He looked calmer, his lips unceasingly pinking in front of the tightly shut IGD door.

Some time I was still in the arms of my mother-in-law until finally things improved and my anxiety released with tears. Several times he rubbed his face while looking into the room from an invisible glass door. We can only surrender and leave everything to the Owner of Life.

The IGD door opened, the doctor who treated Zaid with a nurse came out and went straight to see us.

“Aalhamdulillah's. Mr. Zaid is okay, but it does have to go through special care.” The nurse requested that we complete the administration and sign the care file.

Before Zaid was moved to the special room, confusion re-emerged. Why did Zaid have to be treated specifically, what exactly is Zaid sick? The doctor did not tell us the diagnosis of Zaid's illness.

After all the treatment files were completed, Zaid was transferred to the isolation room, while we were not allowed to meet Zaid before being given permission by the doctor who treated him.

“Bu, Uda Zaid actually why?” I looked into my eyes, looking for an answer there. Too bad there was no answer at all, several times a feeble bundle in anxiety I found.

“Well, you better go home first.” Father approached us with a face that was no less anxious.

“Let Father and Mother here first, after all we are still not allowed to enter. So according to you it is better to go home first to rest. I'm afraid that Sah staying here is not good for your health.”

Duars. What else is this? Not good for my health? I'm strong, sir, nothing to worry about.

God, during our three-month marriage, my father-in-law had never been home. My mother visited only once in a short time. We were just communicating over the phone, so they didn't know the real circumstances. And I also don't want to tell you the truth that's going on, because I still hope Zaid changes over time.

I'm willing to go home because I don't want to make them suspicious, if I stay here because they look very worried about my situation.

“Bu, Sir, Valid. Assalammualaikum.” I kissed my in-laws' hands, before leaving the hospital with their thoughts and hopes.

Going home doesn't make me any better. I felt lonely, there was less, suddenly I missed Zaid. I slowly opened the guest room hoping that there was something that could treat this taste against Zaid.

Room with a size of 3x4 meters that I have never entered because Zaid always locks it from the inside, even if Zaid is not in the key house he always carries. There's nothing strange in that room, nothing to suspect. Everything is neat and even well organized.

I open the wardrobe hoping something can make this miss disappear. Just a few pieces of clothes with colors that are not much different. Zaid did not want to collect clothes, because he once said, everything we have will be snorted.

Maybe he keeps something in a closet drawer or under a pillow? I checked everything but still I did not find any longing and suspicious healers all this time to Zaid. Finally my eyes were fixed on the unfolded prayer mat and the Koran that was still open, perhaps Zaid did not sleep this morning after dawn.

I sat down on that prayer mat. O Allah, I began to fall in love with Your servant, but why is this feeling present at such an inopportune moment. Tears dripped down the still-open Quran of Zaid, I slowly closed the mushaf and I stuck it in the chest.

I do not know how long I slept on the prayer mat while holding the Qur'an Zaid. I put it on a corner table that looks like it was used as a work desk by Zaid. Lots of papers scattered that may not have been tidied up. It turned out that Zaid was good at making calligraphy, all the sheets had been painted with very beautiful works. Under the last page was a photo that stunned me.

The photo of the child being carried and bleeding, the most surprising is Zaid who carried the child. But it seems not in Padang or in Indonesia.

Where was Zaid in this photo? Whose child is in his arms? What is Zaid hiding from me? Why didn't Zaid tell me? I am confused by what I see. Who is Zaid really? Oh my God, this is too complicated for me.

I remember before Zaid fell this morning, there was an envelope that fell with him. I hurried out of Zaid's room and tried to find the envelope around the guest chair. I'm sure the envelope is still there.

Sure enough, the envelope was lying on the carpet. My breathing is irregular, my heart is racing. What's in this envelope?

I open slowly while arranging a heart that is not desirable. It turned out to be the photos that made me even more clueless, two women in army uniforms flanking a weak man with their heads bowed, it seemed like the man was dragged forcibly.

The man's face was not so clear. The next leaf, a photo of a veiled woman taking care of a wounded man. It turns out that the man in the photo is Zaid, but who is that woman? My head was throbbing, my chest was rumbling, there was jealousy seeing the veiled woman pictured with Zaid.

Could it be that woman who imprisoned Zaid's heart? So Zaid won't touch me at all. Tears spilled again, it turns out Zaid has someone who locks his heart and mind. The padlock in Zaid's heart could not be opened even with a sacred wedding key. My soul whimpers, the new love I think is torn to shreds by the photo. I hate Zaid.

Curiosity beats pain and soreness in the chest. The next photo was of some children holding catapults and stones, they were standing next to Zaid with faces full of smiles, it seemed like they had just done something that made them very happy. This photo gives me goosebumps. Little children, catapults, stones, and the Palestinian flag.

Oh God, who is Zaid really?

On the last photo sheet tucked in a pink envelope, in the upper right corner inscribed Love Letter To Hafsah. I took a deep breath trying to neutralize the unwelcome feeling.

The envelope had not been opened, because there was a chat from my mother-in-law who told me to go to the hospital immediately.