“In a month, come back to propose to me, Mas. I don’t want to marry that dark Joko,” Sari said playfully. There was a smile on her lips.
“I promise. We will get married soon. When that month comes back as a full moon, then I will propose to you. I will take you to live in the city. Just like you’ve dreamed since elementary school. Now I have to go back and prepare.”
The young couple left the mosque’s terrace. Their hands waved goodbye. Above them, the moonlight became brighter. The lush trees on either side of the road cast dark shadows. Fireflies fluttered around the rural landscape. Crickets sang joyfully, echoing the hearts of the two lovers. The old mosque witnessed the love story of these young humans in its silence.
***
The lively voices of children studying in the mosque didn’t distract the girl from her thoughts. She used to study in that mosque too. Back then, it was Fajar who taught her to recite the Quran. Her childhood friend grew into a devout young man under the guidance of his father, who was the mosque’s imam. Despite being only two years older, his religious knowledge far surpassed hers. Their nightly meetings tied her heart, leading to a longing whenever Fajar couldn’t teach. It turned out that Fajar felt the same way, and they eventually confessed their love.
The moon was almost perfectly round. Puspitasari became more anxious because her lover hadn’t arrived yet, even though tomorrow was the full moon, the promised day of their engagement. Her chest was filled with anxious feelings, a result of her intense anticipation for her lover’s arrival.
Wrapped in her prayer garment, the village girl sat huddled on the mosque’s terrace, where they often met. The gentle breeze carried her heart’s turmoil. The distant roar of the waves from the southern coast, several kilometers away, added to her restlessness. She feared that Fajar wouldn’t come to propose, and then her father would marry her off to Joko, the man she didn’t love. But her anxiety turned to happiness when a motorcycle roared and stopped in the mosque’s courtyard. She quickly rose to meet her hopeful future husband. After paying the motorcycle taxi driver, Fajar hurried to the mosque. He told Sari that he hadn’t prayed Maghrib yet. Sari noticed a hint of sadness on her lover’s face, but she concluded that it was due to fatigue from the long journey and his rush to pray. Puspitasari calmed herself down.
After praying, Fajar immediately met his beloved.
The village girl’s shoulders shook as she held back her tears listening to the story of her beloved, whom she loved dearly. The gloomy expression she briefly saw earlier was not due to tiredness from the long journey but was the sadness born from the disaster he experienced at his workplace. A massive fire had ravaged the leather factory where Fajar worked a few days ago, destroying almost all the buildings. The factory couldn’t operate anymore. The factory owner was stressed. Thousands of workers lost their jobs. And so did Fajar, the young man from the village, who not only lost his job but also his love.
“Maybe we’re just not meant to be, Sar,” Fajar said softly. “Marry Joko. Maybe your father is right; he’s a capable man who can provide, unlike me.”
“I don’t want to. Let’s just elope, Mas. Marry me somewhere my money-minded father wouldn’t know. I’m ready to go anywhere with you,” Sari said, her eyes brimming with tears. Her voice trembled.