Chapter 15 — The Engagement Date
624 Words
The next blow came three days later.
Alya was helping her grandmother sort rice grains on the front porch when she heard raised voices inside the house.
Not angry.
Serious.
Adult voices.
The kind that always made children feel unwelcome.
Her grandmother froze too.
They exchanged a glance.
Slowly, Alya stood and moved closer to the open window.
Inside sat her grandfather.
Across from him sat the village imam and two elderly men she recognized immediately.
Respected men.
Men people listened to.
Men who helped arrange marriages.
Her stomach dropped.
“…a good match,” one of them was saying.
“Haji Karim is willing to wait until she finishes school.”
The imam nodded thoughtfully.
“That is reasonable.”
Alya gripped the windowsill harder.
Wait.
Not cancel.
Not refuse.
Wait.
As though her marriage had already been approved.
Only the timing remained undecided.
That evening, after the visitors left, she finally confronted her grandfather.
“Did you agree?”
The old man looked exhausted.
Older than she had ever seen him.
“No.”
“Then why are they discussing wedding dates?”
Her voice cracked despite her efforts.
Her grandfather removed his glasses slowly.
“Because they believe it is the best future available.”
The answer felt like betrayal.
Alya stared at him.
“What about my scholarship?”
“It is still there.”
“Then why is everyone acting like my life belongs to him?”
The question hung heavily between them.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then her grandfather whispered something that hurt even more.
“Because opportunities like scholarship disappear.”
Alya’s chest tightened.
“And marriage doesn’t?”
The old man looked away.
That silence answered everything.
⸻
That night, she sat outside alone beneath the mango tree near the river.
The scholarship letter rested in her lap.
Moonlight illuminated the folded paper.
Padang.
The city represented by a few sheets of paper.
Her future reduced to ink.
A future everyone seemed eager to trade away.
Footsteps approached behind her.
This time, it wasn’t Rizal.
It was her grandmother.
The old woman lowered herself carefully onto the wooden bench beside her.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then suddenly her grandmother reached for Alya’s hand.
“When I was fourteen, my father chose my husband.”
Alya turned toward her in surprise.
Her grandmother rarely spoke about herself.
“I met your grandfather for the first time on my wedding day.”
The confession stunned her.
“Were you happy?”
The old woman smiled sadly.
“No.”
Alya blinked.
The answer had come too quickly.
Too honestly.
Her grandmother looked toward the river.
“I was terrified.”
Silence settled between them.
“But your grandfather was kind.”
A pause.
“And kindness saved me.”
Alya swallowed hard.
“But what if kindness isn’t enough?”
Her grandmother’s eyes filled with something old.
Something painful.
“Then the marriage becomes a prison.”
The words lingered in the night air.
Alya stared at her grandmother.
For the first time, she realized the older woman understood far more than she ever revealed.
Perhaps she always had.
Perhaps she simply carried her own scars too quietly.
After a long moment, her grandmother squeezed her hand.
“If your heart tells you to fight for your education…”
She hesitated.
“…then don’t let anyone convince you that your dreams are selfish.”
Alya felt tears rise instantly.
Because it was the first time.
The very first time.
Someone in her family had openly stood on her side.
And in that moment, she realized something else.
If the day came when she had to choose between obedience and freedom…
she would not be completely alone.
- Writer
