After a fifteen-minute ride, the motorcycle finally stopped in front of Mrs. Restu's house. In the front yard, people were busy setting up tarps and chairs for the visitors who would come to pay their respects. Ustaz Hamdan greeted everyone he passed, while the santri quickly joined in to help.
Many of the mourners were familiar with the pesantren family, especially this handsome and kind-hearted ustaz. Ustaz Hamdan reached the living room door and offered his salam, which was answered by several women inside.
He then asked about Laras's whereabouts. They invited him to wait inside. One of them hurried off to inform Laras.
Not long after, Laras appeared. Her face was deathly pale, and fresh tears still flowed from her swollen eyes. The clean-faced man only glanced at her briefly before lowering his gaze, careful to maintain proper etiquette. Yet deep in his heart, Ustaz Hamdan couldn't deny how moved he felt seeing Laras in such a fragile state.
"Assalamu'alaikum, Ustaz," Laras said softly as she sat across from him.
"Wa'alaikumsalam Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh, Laras. I want to express my deepest condolences. I also wanted to let you know that the entire process — from the body washing to the funeral — will be handled at the pesantren. I hope that's acceptable."
"Barakallah. Thank you so much for your help," Laras replied weakly, her voice still breaking with sobs.
Ustaz Hamdan took out a beautifully carved wooden box from his pocket. He had bought it in Turkey on the advice of a habib who appeared in his dream. The handsome man stood up and gently placed the box on the table in front of Laras.
"Laras, I hope you'll accept this gift. Use it to recite zikr at all times, except when you're in the bathroom. I use one too."
"Thank you, Ustaz. InsyaAllah, I will use it always," Laras said, holding the box. From the corner of her eye, she noticed the tasbih wrapped around Ustaz Hamdan's fingers.
"InsyaAllah, some of the sisters from the girls' dormitory will come to help with everything here. I'll take my leave now. Oh, and this is just a small contribution," the young ustaz said, placing a brown envelope beside the box.
Laras stood up and walked him to the front door. Just before stepping outside, Ustaz Hamdan spoke softly:
"Please read the message inside the envelope. I'll be waiting for your answer. My best prayers for you… Jamila."
Ustaz Hamdan walked across the yard toward his motorcycle, leaving Laras with a puzzled look. Two souls who had met in dreams were now walking their separate destinies, while a pair of large, round eyes watched them with barely contained jealousy.
"Jamila! My queen! No one has the right to claim you but me."
A voice carrying the rich scent of musk slipped into Laras's ears and nose. The woman suddenly panicked. She screamed and fainted. Ustaz Hamdan, who had turned to look back, rushed forward and caught her body just in time, using his turban as support.
Everyone nearby quickly gathered. The women helped carry Laras to the sofa in the living room so Ustaz Hamdan could attend to her.
"Please rub some aromatherapy oil under her nose," Ustaz Hamdan instructed one of the relatives sitting beside Laras.
The woman nodded and began applying it. A few moments later, Laras slowly regained consciousness. When she saw Ustaz Hamdan, her eyes widened in fear.
"Zahir? Don't bother me! Go away!"
"Laras, calm down! It's me — Hamdan Fadil, son of Kiai Jaffar. Look at this tasbih! Zahir would never carry one," Ustaz Hamdan said, trying to reassure her.
But Laras was still terrified and stared at him without blinking. Her gaze made Ustaz Hamdan momentarily awkward. He quickly composed himself and began reciting healing prayers.
"Laa haula wa laa quwwata illa billah. Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!"
Laras finally came back to her senses. Her eyes focused on the tasbih in Ustaz Hamdan's hand.
"Astaghfirullahal adzim! I'm sorry, Ustaz," she whispered, still staring at his fingers as they moved across the prayer beads.
"It's alright, Laras. Please rest now. Everything in the kitchen and elsewhere has been taken care of. Calm your mind. I'll take my leave. Assalamu'alaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh."
"Wa'alaikumsalam, Ustaz."
Laras stood up with the help of a relative, holding the wooden box and the brown envelope, and walked toward her bedroom.
Ustaz Hamdan left the living room and headed to the terrace to find one of the female dormitory supervisors he had asked to prepare everything. He reminded her to keep a close eye on Laras in case of any supernatural disturbances.
"If anything happens, contact me immediately."
"Understood, Ustaz."
Finally feeling more at ease, Ustaz Hamdan walked to his motorcycle. Before mounting it, his sharp eyes caught a glimpse of a figure from the unseen realm.
"Assalamu'alaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh. Please stop disturbing her if you don't want trouble with me!"
"Wa'alaikumsalam. Laras is mine, and you… you insolent man who wants to steal my beloved," Zahir replied, his voice thick with the scent of musk.
"By using deceit? Wearing my face? Your tricks won't work this time. I won't stay silent if you bother Laras again."
"Haha! How confident you are!"
Zahir's voice vanished with the wind, leaving only the lingering sweet musk scent in Ustaz Hamdan's nose.
The handsome man recited zikr and salawat to calm himself. This was the first time he had encountered such a stubborn jinn like Zahir. He shook his head and quickly rode off toward the pesantren.
Throughout the journey, Ustaz Hamdan thought of ways to continue protecting Laras and Mrs. Restu. After all, they were the people dearest to his late friend Raka. He felt it was now his responsibility to take his friend's place and watch over them.
His phone vibrated inside his jacket. He pulled over briefly. An unknown number had sent him a message. It was from Laras.
[Assalamu'alaikum, Ustaz Hamdan. This is my number, Laras. I just received a call from my late husband's boss. They want to hold a memorial service and give a posthumous award. I want my husband's body to be buried as soon as possible, without any other events. Thank you in advance.]
[Wa'alaikumsalam Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh. Thank you for saving my number. Understood. I will arrange it according to your wishes. Please prepare yourself for the funeral. The sisters from the girls' dormitory will pick you up later. Thank you again.]
After replying, a gentle smile appeared on Ustaz Hamdan's lips — a reflection of the quiet happiness blooming in his heart.
For the first time, receiving a message from Laras brought him genuine joy. She was the woman who had appeared in his dreams for so long. Until yesterday, he had still been trying to understand the meaning behind those dreams.
In truth, his heart had already found certainty through the Istikharah he performed the night before the tragedy struck his friend. Ustaz Hamdan rode faster, eager to return to the pesantren.
---
Laras had just finished changing clothes when a relative told her that Ustaz Hamdan was waiting in the living room. She quickly walked out to meet him.
When she arrived, her gaze fixed on the ustaz, who was now dressed in traditional Arab attire. His eyes no longer looked calm like before — they seemed wild and intense.
"Assalamu'alaikum, Jamila. Let's go to the funeral," he said.
Laras sensed something off in the way he greeted her. Moreover, the strong scent of musk filled her nostrils. Though uneasy, she tried not to show her nervousness.
"Wa'alaikumsalam, Ustaz. Won't the sisters from the dormitory be picking me up?"
"I'm sorry, I didn't tell you earlier. I thought it would be safer if I picked you up myself," Ustaz Hamdan replied, staring at her intensely.
Laras grew even more suspicious. The real Ustaz Hamdan was always polite and respectful, just like his father. He usually only glanced at her briefly.
Then she remembered the message from Ustaz Hamdan. Her eyes darted to his fingers — there was no tasbih. Combined with the distinct musk scent, she was now certain: the man standing before her was Zahir.
"Assalamu'alaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh, Laras. Are you ready?" a woman's voice called from outside the door.
"Wa'alaikumsalam Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh. Alhamdulillah, are you from the girls' dormitory?"
"Yes. Ustaz Hamdan asked me to pick you up."
Laras's heart was now fully convinced that the person with her was Zahir, because the woman from the pesantren didn't seem to see the "ustaz" at all.
"I'm ready. Let's go."
Laras quickly walked out, ignoring Zahir. Of course, her behavior disappointed him. But he couldn't bring himself to harm his "future queen." Unexpectedly, the woman sent by Ustaz Hamdan could see the jinn's true form.