Chapter 9 — The Man with the Silver Watch
493 Words
The news about her scholarship application spread faster than she expected.
Teachers congratulated her before results even came out. Neighbors smiled proudly whenever they passed her grandparents’ house. Some villagers began saying she might become “the first girl from the village to study in the city properly.”
For a while, the attention felt warm.
Hopeful.
Then another kind of attention arrived.
It began during a wedding ceremony in a neighboring village.
Her grandmother insisted she attend because the bride was a distant relative. So that afternoon, she dressed simply in a pale blue kebaya while her grandmother carefully pinned back her long dark hair.
“You’re becoming too beautiful,” the old woman murmured quietly.
The girl laughed softly.
But her grandmother did not.
The wedding was crowded and noisy beneath large white tents. Children ran between tables while women carried trays of food through the humid afternoon heat. Music echoed across the village road.
At first, everything felt ordinary.
Until she noticed a man watching her.
Older.
Far older than Rizal.
Perhaps in his thirties.
Well-dressed in dark clothes with a silver watch gleaming against his wrist.
Unlike the village boys who usually looked away nervously, this man stared openly without embarrassment.
The attention made her uneasy immediately.
She moved closer beside her grandmother.
“Who is that?” she whispered quietly.
Her grandmother followed her gaze.
And instantly stiffened.
“That’s Haji Karim.”
Even hearing the name changed the atmosphere slightly.
People in the district knew him well.
He owned fishing businesses, transportation lorries, several pieces of land near the town, and had connections with local officials. Some admired him.
Others feared him quietly.
“What does he want?” she asked.
Her grandmother avoided answering.
Throughout the ceremony, she continued feeling his eyes following her across the crowd.
Once, while serving drinks to older guests, she accidentally passed close beside him.
“Haven’t seen you before,” he said smoothly.
She lowered her gaze politely.
“I live near Sungai Merah.”
“Ah.”
His eyes studied her slowly.
“The granddaughter.”
Something about the way he said it made coldness creep beneath her skin.
She excused herself quickly afterward and remained beside her grandmother for the rest of the evening.
But before leaving, Haji Karim approached her grandfather directly.
The girl watched from a distance as the older men shook hands.
Her grandfather’s expression changed subtly during the conversation.
Not happy.
Not relaxed.
Worried.
On the journey home, the night air felt unusually heavy.
Motorcycle lights flickered across dark village roads while crickets screamed from the fields.
Finally, her grandmother spoke quietly behind her grandfather on the motorcycle.
“You should not have brought her.”
No one answered.
The girl tightened her grip around her grandmother’s waist.
A strange feeling settled deep inside her chest.
Not fear exactly.
Not yet.
But instinct.
The kind warning that arrives before disaster fully shows its face.
- Writer
