The early morning wind knocked on the window. The rhythm is like the beat of my heart that’s experiencing unusual feelings. The woman lying on her side, facing me in this bed, made my head full of thought, who is she?
The bright light from the moon hit his face. He muttered, perhaps feeling glare. I closed the curtains. Slow down, tight, until he can continue his sleep.
I looked up at his face, I edged closer to make it clearer. She’s my wife. Her name is Alia. Almost every night, after we agreed to sleep, I looked at it this way. We’ve only been married three days, so I’m still tacky sometimes with a woman lying with me.
Every night, after he finishes serving, he’ll ask, me or him to sleep first, or we should sleep together. I was a moment proud, there was a woman, who even for the business of closing my eyes, had to ask my opinion first.
Not to mention when I go home and go to work. He always dropped off or waited at the door, kissed my hand and brought my briefcase. Whereas when we were dating, every time he shopped I brought his bags and shopping bags now it’s changed. I’m her husband. He respects me. And again, I feel great.
I used to think I was the strongest of Alia. Turns out he’s no less powerful. Get up first and go to bed later. Early in the morning already wash clothes, prepare breakfast, and shopping to the market. In fact, when I woke up, she was already dressed up beautifully. But all I know is that every time I’m going to date she used to take hours to dress up. Imagined, women turned out to be stronger after marriage.
A month after marriage. I’m not working today. I’m sick with the common cold, but Alia says the flu is the source of all sorts of more severe diseases. He doesn’t want me to be sicker. So I asked for a work permit.
Today comes the old date. Alia only provides vegetable soup and white rice on the table. Because I’m sick, Alia doesn’t eat her soup. He only eats rice, soup for me. While feeding, he asked me to promise that later that payday I should buy him his favorite roast chicken. Of course he’s joking. But I secretly agreed. Roast chicken or whatever, I intend to buy him a heart to make him happy. Because, Alia’s face is getting prettier when she is happy.
At night I advise you not to sleep in bed first. He could have contracted it. Obviously, I can’t afford it if this strong woman of mine gets sick too. But, sweetly, he says, I’m the vitamin, so being around me won’t cause any disease. After all, he said, he had to make sure I slept and get well tomorrow. Duhai, I want to hug Alia right then and there. But the flu makes me sleepy.
I’m getting better the next day. I went back to work, the other night I looked back at Alia’s face next to me. Her face is a little more tapered but still pretty. The moonlight that swept through her face, made me finally find the answer to my question about who this woman is.
Alia, she’s my wife. More than that, he was someone who respected me and sincerely served me. He’s someone who has trusted me more than I do. She believed that being willing to marry me meant she had given up her body, her life, even her happiness to me, her husband.
Again I feel proud. Grateful. More and more, I’m excited. I’m going to make her happy, protect her, prove that believing in me doesn’t hurt.